Chapter Two - Vows and Veils
836 Words
The reception roared like a masquerade of vultures. Crystal chandeliers blazed above, their light shattering against glasses of champagne and diamond necklaces.
Every guest smiled, but Alessia could feel their gazes pierce through the veil, sharp and suffocating, as though each one knew she didn’t belong.
The orchestra swelled, drowning her thoughts, yet her pulse was louder still.
Killian De Santis stood beside her, an unmoving sentinel in a black suit, his gray eyes glinting like storm clouds. When he leaned down, Alessia flinched but his hand merely brushed hers in a gesture that looked tender to the crowd.
In truth, his grip tightened, a subtle warning: stay still. He hadn’t asked who she was. He hadn’t questioned the switch. But the cold calculation in his eyes told her the truth he knew. “Smile,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. She did, though her stomach twisted.
Dante D’Arcy beamed from the head table, his cigar smoke curling into the air as he toasted the union with a booming laugh. To the guests, it was a night of triumph. To Alessia, it was the tightening of a noose.
Each toast, each cheer, pressed down until she could hardly breathe beneath the veil. She thought of Celeste, where had she gone? Why had she abandoned her? And what did she mean by don’t trust me?
At last, the orchestra faded, and the butler announced the bride and groom’s departure. A ripple of polite applause followed as Killian took her hand and led her away, up the marble staircase that climbed toward the De Santis private quarters.
The further they walked, the quieter the mansion became. Laughter and clinking glasses dissolved into silence. The air grew colder. Alessia’s slippers clicked faintly against the polished floor as she followed Killian, her heart racing.He opened the door to his chambers and gestured for her to enter.
The room was vast velvet drapes, carved furniture, the faint glow of candles flickering along the walls. A fire smoldered in the hearth, but the air still felt frigid.
Killian stepped inside, closing the door behind them.“Take off the veil,” he said.
Her breath caught. Slowly, she lifted the fabric away from her face.For a moment, his gaze locked on her gray meeting gold-brown and she saw something shift in his expression. Not surprising. Not affection. Recognition.
“You’re not Celeste,” he said flatly.Her lips parted, the truth clawing up her throat, but before she could speak, a sound shattered the silence.
A thud. Heavy. Muffled. Coming from the adjoining room.
Killian moved first. He crossed the chamber in long strides and pushed open the door. Seconds later, Alessia followed on trembling legs.
The sight froze her blood.On the floor lay Celeste. Her once-perfect gown was torn, her veil soaked crimson. Blood pooled around her pale hands, her body twisted unnaturally.
And beside her, Killian knelt his shirt stained dark at the shoulder, blood seeping through as though he himself had been cut.
Alessia’s scream ripped through the air, raw and jagged.
Footsteps thundered down the hall. Guards burst into the room, guns half-drawn, eyes widening at the sight.
“My God,” one muttered.Alessia staggered backward, shaking her head.
“No, no I didn’t.” Dante stormed in, cigar still smoldering between his fingers, his face twisting into fury. His gaze locked on Alessia, then on the corpse of his eldest daughter.
“You little viper,” he hissed.Her breath broke.
“It wasn’t me!”
“She couldn’t stand it,” Dante barked to the guards. “Jealous of her own sister. Wanted the groom for herself. Look at her hands!”
Alessia looked down, blood smeared on her fingertips where she had touched Celeste’s veil. Her heart stopped.
“It’s not mine!” she cried. “I swear, I didn’t!”
The guards’ eyes hardened. One reached for her arm.
Another muttered, “She lost control. Murdered her own blood.”
“No!” Alessia fought, desperation clawing at her chest. “I’m not Celeste, I’m Alessia! Don’t you see? I’m not!”
A heavy slap silenced her. Her father’s hand cracked across her face, the sting searing.“You are Celeste tonight,” Dante growled. “And you will die as Celeste if you defy me again.”
Her knees buckled. Tears blurred her vision. She turned to Killian, the only one who hadn’t spoken, her voice breaking. “Please know I didn’t do this. You know, ”
Killian rose slowly, his injured shoulder seeping blood, his gray eyes unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was ice.
“Take her away.” The guards seized her, dragging her back into the main chamber. Alessia thrashed against their grips, her cries echoing through the mansion.
Celeste’s lifeless face was the last thing she saw before the door slammed shut. And in that moment, Alessia understood.
She was not just a bride. She was a scapegoat. And no one, not even her groom, would save her.
- Writer
