Blood Relations

I stand facing the mirror, fidgeting with the delicate pearls and lace on my dress. Yep, tonight is the big night. My mom is tying the knot with Konstantin, her knight in shining carbon emissions reduction armour. They had crossed paths at some fancy environmental conference in Luxembourg last year. Konstantin, the hotshot Romanian businessman who basically footed the massive bill for the entire conference, had apparently swept her off her feet. Turns out he wasn't just any businessman – he’s Konstantin Vasiliev, heir to the Vasiliev empire. Forty years old, fit, handsome, and all that jazz. Basically, an upgrade from the usual crowd in our laid-back California town.

Like mom, he’s incredibly passionate about the environment, as evidenced by his family's dedicated pursuit of pioneering green technologies. The Vasiliev clan’s multinational conglomerate, Evergreen Legacy Consortium, is at the forefront of eco-innovation. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that Konstantin is pretty easy on the eyes, and a literal billionaire.

Handsome, charming, wealthy and a tree hugging eco-warrior - he’s basically her dream guy.

So, fairy tale love story, huh? Well, forgive me if I’m not sipping the Kool-Aid just yet. Ever heard of "happily ever after"? Yeah, it's a load of crap.

I gaze at my reflection, fighting back tears. Turning eighteen is supposed to be a big deal, but this wedding is turning out to be the mother of all buzzkills. I'd grown up without a dad, a cop who died before I was even born. So, yeah, I'd always dreamed of a father figure. But now that the opportunity’s knocking, I’m suddenly less enthusiastic. Not that Konstantin’s a bad guy – he seems fine. It's just that I can't shake off the feeling that this "happily ever after" might be more like "sayonara, freedom."

See, Mom has plans, big ones. She's got this booming business, shipping eco-friendly meal kits all over the US. And now, she's all set to conquer Europe. With Konstantin. Next year. No biggie, right? I'd be shipping off to college anyway. Still, I can’t help feeling like I’m about to lose her. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves, but I still feel like a storm's brewing in my gut.

Speaking of storms, there's one new family member on the Vasiliev side I'm particularly dreading meeting tonight: Konstantin's charming little brother, Aleksandr. You know, the thirty five year old “tech tycoon billionaire playboy" as the tabloids put it? "The King of Europe"? Yeah, that guy. I've seen the headlines – arrogant, distant, and basically an all-around pain in the ass. I can't say I'm super thrilled about meeting him, but guess what? Life's a bitch, and I've got a front-row seat tonight.

Luckily, I probably won’t have to spend too much time with my mom’s new family tonight. They had insisted, for some bizarre reason, on an evening wedding, starting at 8pm after sundown. I guess it must be some weird Romanian tradition, or a superstition, or a rich people thing, or whatever. It works in my favour though - if things get too awkward, I’ll just say I’m tired and excuse myself.

I brush a strand of my long, honey blonde hair behind my ear and study my reflection in the mirror. My emerald green eyes seem to flicker with anxiety, and my heart-shaped face is lightly tanned from a summer spent surfing at the Big Sur with my friends.

I give my rose gold necklace – a token from my mom – a tweak and gulp some air, taking a slow deep breath. It's a piece that has been with me since childhood, a reminder of my mom's strength and love. She had given it to me when I was a child, a symbol of her determination and the hope she held during her battle with breast cancer eight years ago. The delicate rose gold chain and pendant had always felt like a protective talisman, a connection to her during the most trying times. She’s been in remission for years now, but it still gives me goosebumps to think of how close I came to losing her back then.

Why am I thinking of all this morbid stuff at a time like this? I need to snap out of it.

Time to put on my "Arianna, the lovely stepdaughter-to-be" face. Smile, nod, repeat.

I finally make my way down the fancy staircase. Starlight streams in through the large windows, casting a cold silver glow over everything. Outside, it's like some swanky vineyard meets beach town dream. Rows of vines stretch forever, and the whole place smells like grapes on steroids. Basically, it's a Pinterest wedding fever dream.

A warm night breeze floats in from outside, carrying the briny smell of salt from the nearby California coastline. The mournful cries of seagulls can be heard in the distance, and for a moment, I wish I could just grow a pair of wings and fly off into the sky free as a bird, avoiding this stressful situation altogether. Cliche, I know… but true. I’d rather be a stinky, beady-eyed screeching sky-rat than myself at this very moment.

Outdoors, white chairs are neatly lined up, and the guests are starting to trickle in. Mom's doing her hostess thing – radiant, holding flowers, you know the drill. I spot her, looking stunning in white, even though she's convinced she's too old for it. And let's be real, she's hot – golden blonde hair, green eyes, the works. She's practically a walking "how to age gracefully" manual. People mistake us for sisters sometimes. Her beauty has always been striking, but lately, I've noticed a change. She's still breathtaking, but there's a fragility to her that wasn't there before. She's skinnier than usual, too skinny. She lost a lot of weight for the wedding, more than she should have. Mom had run herself ragged juggling her growing meal prep business with all the wedding preparations, and I’m relieved the whole wedding ordeal is almost at an end so she can take a break.

But tonight's not just about her. It's about us, our tiny duo turning into a trio. I choke back the weird mix of emotions – excitement, nostalgia, and something like... I don't know... panic?

"Hey, honey," she says, pulling me in for a hug that's equal parts comforting and suffocating. "Ready for this?"

I grin like I'm not about to crawl out of my skin. "Oh, absolutely. Can't wait to meet the royal family."

She chuckles, and I see the "mom knows best" gleam in her eyes. "Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about. Just be yourself."

Yeah, sure, mom. Because that's super easy when you're about to meet a family of fancy pants billionaires.

So, here we are, about to witness the merger of mom and her new Romanian beau. The ceremony area's all decked out, like a garden from a Hollywood romance. I spot Konstantin's mom, Anya Vasiliev, who's part socialite, part business tycoon, and ridiculously beautiful. According to mom, Anya is somewhere in her sixties, but she looks like she could be in her fifties or even her late forties. Good genes run in the family, apparently. Mom's told me so much about Anya that I feel like I’ve already met her, but this is my first full Vasiliev encounter.

Taking a deep breath, I march forward and take my place at the side of the altar, hoping to conquer the awkwardness that's my birthright.

The ceremony's all set up, masses of fragrant night-blooming flowers, arches, a multitude of white candles, the works. I take my spot and then notice someone striding out from the crowd. Mystery man alert. My heart skips a beat – and not in a good way.

Okay, okay, maybe it's in a good way.

Yeah, I'm talking about the guy walking my way. Perfectly messy dark hair, eyes like icy shards, and a swagger that says he owns the damn place. He's like the lovechild of a GQ model and a James Bond villain.

And he's headed straight for me.