Chapter 3

My heart seized, and I instinctively grabbed his sleeve. "What are you doing?"

Kael ignored my panic. He lowered the window and signaled for the wedding planner, demanding the bride's exclusive makeup artist come to the lead car.

"Redo her hair," Kael instructed the stylist. "Take your time. Make sure it's perfect."

He then twisted around to address the back seat, where my sister sat draped in my pristine white gown.

"Elowen, sweetheart," he coaxed, his tone dripping with a noble indulgence. "Your sister's hair got messed up, and it'll look terrible in the photos. Today is your most important day. We need to make sure everyone is perfectly happy."

He sounded so considerate, practically weaponizing his faux-devotion.

Liora didn't say a word. She nodded gracefully, but the gaze she shot me through the rearview mirror was laced with a smug, anticipated victory.

The stylist's hands worked meticulously through my hair, dragging the minutes out. With the lead car parked, the entire high-end motorcade was paralyzed in the estate's driveway.

The frantic wedding planner eventually tapped on the glass. "Mr. Rainer, if we don't leave now, the entire itinerary will be compromised. It's bad luck to miss the schedule!"

Aunts and uncles began to swarm the vehicle, peering through the tinted glass.

"What's wrong? Is Liora feeling sick?"

"Maybe she should just get out and take another car. She's holding up the whole procession!"

Out on the street, blocked traffic began to honk, a chorus of impatient blares layering over the murmurs of our guests.

My cheeks burned with acute humiliation. I gripped the bridesmaid gown so hard my knuckles turned white. My chest felt like it was trapped in a vice, each breath drawing a sharp, stabbing pain.

To me, this timeline—this wedding—was sacred. But to Kael, my perfect wedding was worth less than a few stray hairs on Liora's head.

My mother, Mara, marched out of the house, her face pinched in fury. She opened her mouth to scold whoever was causing the delay, but the moment she saw it was me in the passenger seat, she bit her tongue.

Remembering the secret pact she made to appease Liora, she awkwardly backed away, muttering, "Just... hurry it up."

Thirty minutes later, the motorcade finally lurched into motion.

Instead of driving, Kael had relinquished the wheel to a chauffeur and joined his 'bride' in the plush rear cabin.

Through the rearview mirror, I watched Liora openly rest her head on Kael's shoulder. Shrouded in my identity, she was free to flaunt her physical intimacy with my fiancé.

Suddenly, a warm finger slid over the center console, playfully tracing the sensitive palm of my hand that rested by my side.

I flinched and turned around.

Kael was looking right at me, flashing a devastatingly charming, conspiratorial smile.

My stomach roiled as a sickening realization washed over me. This subtle, practiced intimacy... had they played these secret little games right in front of me all along? Was that why he was so incredibly smooth at it?

We soon arrived at the Grand Horizon Ballroom.

Kael stepped out first, holding Liora's heavy silk train as he helped her from the car. The hired videographer glued himself to their side, capturing every staged moment of their 'sweet romance.'

The wedding planner corralled the bridal party onto the manicured lawn. "Time for the group portraits!" she announced. "Family of the couple, please gather around."

Kael and Liora took the center frame. My parents flanked Liora, while Kael's parents stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him. In the shuffle, I was bumped and nudged until I was relegated to the absolute outermost edge of the formation.

"One, two, three, cheese!" the photographer cheered.

Everyone smiled for the lens. But in the next fraction of a second, an earsplitting BOOM detonated behind us.

A massive wall of colored pyrotechnic smoke and concussive confetti cannons erupted. The explosive roar swallowed me whole.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my eardrums ringing violently as vertigo pitched the ground sideways beneath my heels. When I forced my eyes open, the cheering crowd swayed like ghosts in the smoke, and my knees nearly buckled.

The deafening blast didn't sound like a celebration to me. It sounded exactly like the violent summer thunderstorm from when I was seven years old.

Liora had deliberately broken my favorite toy, and when I had screamed at her, my parents had dragged me down the hall. They punished me for not 'yielding' to my sister by locking me in the dim ground-floor spare bedroom.

"Let's see how stubborn you are in the dark," my father had sneered.

"You may share her face, but you lack every ounce of her charm," my mother had added before turning the deadbolt.

Thunder had rattled the walls of that dim ground-floor spare bedroom. In that suffocating, pitch-black space, I had scratched frantically at the wood until my fingernails splintered and bled.

Ever since that night, I suffered from severe PTSD regarding sudden, explosive noises, often experiencing temporary deafness and panic attacks.

Because of this, I had sat down with Kael. I had looked him in the eyes and made it a strict contractual point to cancel the confetti cannons.

Yet, here they were.

Through the ringing in my ears, Kael materialized beside me, leaning in close so the others couldn't hear.

"How was it? Beautiful, right?" he whispered, his tone thick with self-satisfaction. "I risked Elowen throwing a massive fit to sneak these back in just for you. You better thank me later."

He had brought back my worst nightmare just because he knew Liora loved grand spectacles.

I dug my nails so deeply into my palms they almost broke skin. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, letting the metallic taste of blood keep me from passing out.

"I love it," I choked out, the words tasting like ash.

A few yards away, the photographer cast the raw image onto a preview monitor.

I looked at the giant screen. I was entirely cut out of the portrait, save for half an arm draped in dusty-rose chiffon awkwardly lingering at the edge.

A bitter, broken smile touched my lips.

It was fitting. I was never truly meant to exist in this picture at all.