6

Serena Vale point of View;

The diamond on my finger weighed more than it should have.

it was too tight, too cold. A constant reminder of the performance I couldn't escape.

The applause from the night before still echoed in my head, hollow and mocking. I hadn't slept. Not really. I'd stared at the ceiling most of the night, trying to quiet the thoughts that clawed at me.

The proposal had been perfect on the surface. Flashing lights, champagne toasts, murmurs of "Finally" and "Damien's changed." But underneath it all, I felt like I was standing in Quicksand, smiling while I sank.

And Damien.

He hasn't said another word to me after the photos. He slipped away into the shadows like he always did, leaving me alone in a sea of people pretending to care.

Now, the sun was up, the staff was buzzing and the estate felt different.

Colder.

Like something important had shifted and everyone could feel it.

I was still in bed when the knock came.

Three soft raps.

I didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway.

"Good morning, future sister-in-law"

Emilia Alaric swept into the room like she owned it.

And maybe she did. she's always seemed more comfortable in this mansion than Damien himself. Silver blonde hair pulled into a sleek braid, wearing an oversized cashmere sweater and leggings, she looked too casual to be dangerous.

which was exactly what made her lethal.

"you're not even dressed," she said glancing around. " And we've got wedding decisions to make."

I sat slowly. "you're joking."

she grinned. " oh sweetie. Damien proposed in front of the press. The world's already expecting a date, a designer, and a three-tiered cake."

I rubbed my temple, " I haven't even agreed to marry him "

"Did you say no?"

I didn't answer.

"Exactly." she clapped her hand once. "Now come on. we've got dresses to pick, locations to shortlist and PR damage to manage."

I gave her a look. " you're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

Emilia tilted her head, her smile cooling. "I enjoy being in control of chaos. And right now, you're a hurricane in a wedding gown."

I signed and slid out of bed. There was no point arguing. The train had already left the station. my name was already trending on social media. The ring was on my finger.

Whether I liked it or not- I was the bride to be of Damien Alaric.

By the time we got to the east wing, three wedding planners were already waiting in the sunroom. All women. All dressed in shades of beige and black. clipboards, Fabric swatches, and tablets in hands.

They looked at me like I was their next project.

I hated it.

"Serena Vale," one of them said, standing. "We're honored to help design your dream day."

it's not my dream.

But I smiled anyways. "Thank you."

They launched into options before I could sit. Locations. Color palette. Floral arrangements. I heard words like " Winter estate, Vintage noir, and Paparazzi-free ceremony."

Emilia leaned over and whispered "You should go with a deep red bouquet. it'll pop against your skin."

I glanced at her. "And what's in it for you?"

she smiled, unfazed. " I like weddings. Especially when they end in bloodshed."

I didn't know if she was Joking.

Half an hour later, I was surrounded by fabric swatches and barely restrained panic.

Everyone kept saying Fairytale, But nothing about this felt magical.

it felt like a war strategy.

I barely had a say. Everytime I opened my mouth, someone countered with a "But Damien would prefer.." of "the family expects.." or "this is what looks best in the photos."

I wasn't Serena Vale anymore.

I was the bride. A headline. A walking diamond.

But then, in the middle of all the chaos, I stood up.

"No pink," I said firmly, setting down a sample.

"No lace. No cathedral veil."

The room went quite.

Even Emilia raised an eyebrow.

I folded my arms. "if I'm going to be forced into this circus, I at least get to decide what I wear."

The lead planner cleared her throat. "of course. we're here to bring your vision to life."

I leaned in slightly, voice low. "You're here to make sure Damien doesn't lose Face. Don't confuse the two."

Emilia let out a low whistle. " Look at you. already sounding like one of us."

I ignored her.

Because the truth was- If I was going to survive this, I needed to stop playing the victim and start playing the game.

The planners took the hint and left soon after, murmuring about scheduling another session to finalize details.

Emilia stayed behind.

she watched me from across the sunroom, arms folded, eyes unreadable. The sharp afternoon light framed her like a painting- Perfect, cold, and too polished to be real.

"You handled that better than I expected," she finally said.

I sat down on the arm of the velvet chair, still feeling the static hum of adrenaline in my limbs.

"it's not exactly how I imagined my wedding."

Emilia smirked. "That's the thing about imaging, it rarely survives the Alaric touch."

i tilted my head. "Do you even believe in marriage?"

"Not in the fairytale kind," she said. " But alliances? leverage? oh, I believed in those."

I stared at her for a moment. "What Damien getting out of this? Really."

Her gaze flickered, just for a second.

"Control," She said simply. " Perception. A bride makes him look Grounded. settled. Especially one like you."

"Like me?"

"You're not a socialite, or a cartel daughter, or one of those silent heiresses who smile and nod and vanish. you challenge him. That scares people." She grinned. "Which is why it works."

it wasn't a compliment. it was a strategy.

"Does your father know the truth?" i asked. "That this engagement is fake?"

Emilia's smile faded, just slightly. "My father knows what he needs to know. And right now, he thinks Damien is finally falling in line. That he's stopped rebelling. That he's becoming him."

That made my stomach twist.

"Is that what Damien wants?" I asked. "To become like your father?"

Her silence was answer enough.

I stood and walked to the windows, staring out at the endless grounds- the trimmed hedges, th rose garden, the marble statues too pristine to be innocent.

"You're all playing a game," I said quietly. " And I'm just the pawn that keeps the king distracted."

"You're not a pawn," Emilia said behind me.

"you're a weapon.".

I turned slowly.

"Excuse Me?"

she stepped forward. "Damien doesn't let anyone close. Not unless he can use them. But you- you've already gotten under his skin. you're not afraid of him. you're not impressed by him. That makes you dangerous."

I didn't know whether to thank her or slap her.

"so what now?" I asked. " you dress me up, paint a smile on my face, and parade me like I'm some trophy? until when? until he gets bored?"

Emilia studied me for a moment. "Until you stop pretending you hate it here."

My jaw tensed. " I don't belong here."

"No," she agreed. "But neither does Damien..That's what makes this so fun."

Later that evening, I stood in front of the mirror in my room, still wearing the black satin robe they'd laid out for me. My hair was pinned up from the earlier fitting, soft curls cascading Down one shoulder.

The ring gleamed on my finger like a brand.

I touched it lightly, wondering - not for the first time- how a girl like me had ended up in a place like this. surrounded by power, secrets, and a man who saw me as both threat and tool.

Damien hadn't spoken to me since the proposal.

Not a text. Not a knock at the door. Not even a sideways glance when we passed each other in the hallway.

which was fine. I preferred silence to manipulation.

But silence didn't erase the tension in the air the crackle of something building.

I didn't know what his plans was. or how long this arrangement would last. But I did know this; I wasn't going to be another forgotten victim in the Alaric history book.

This house, this legacy had already stolen enough from me.