Chapter 4 - The Crisis

Elena POV

“Victoria!”

It is my mother's voice. I recognized it immediately. It is high and sharp and desperate. It cuts through the air like a knife. I flinch. My hands start trembling.

"Victoria! Victoria, where are you?!"

I hear footsteps pounding on the marble floors. Doors slamming. I hear voices shouting. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

I move toward the door. The chaos is overwhelming. Servants are running in every direction. Wedding planners are shouting into phones. Florists are dropping bouquets. The whole manor has turned into a madhouse.

And at the center of it all is my mother.

She is standing in the foyer, her face pale, her hands shaking. She looks like a woman who has just realized her entire world is crumbling. Her perfect, controlled exterior has cracked. I can see the panic in her eyes.

"Elena!" She spots me. She pushes through the crowd toward me. Her hand shoots out and grabs my arm. Her nails dig into my skin. "Where is she? Where is Victoria?"

I stare at her. "I do not know. I thought she was in her room."

"She is gone. Her room is empty. Her bed is empty. Her clothes are just there." My mother's voice is rising. Her grip on my arm is bruising. "She has run away. On her wedding day. She has ruined everything."

I feel the floor drop out from under me. Victoria ran away. My perfect sister, the daughter everyone loves, the daughter who was supposed to save the family, she ran away.

"Are you sure?" I ask. "Maybe she went for a walk…"

"Her dress is still hanging on the door. Her shoes are still on the floor. But she is gone. Vanished. Disappeared." My mother releases my arm. She presses her hands to her face. She is shaking. "What am I going to do? The guests are arriving. The press is everywhere. How am I going to explain this?"

I stand there. I do not know what to say. I do not know what to do. I am not part of this world. I am not part of their plans. I am just the spare. The one who lives in the shadows. The one no one notices.

But now everyone is noticing me. Everyone is looking at me. The staff. The planners. The stylists. They are all staring at me like I have the answer. Like I can fix this.

I want to tell them I cannot. I want to tell them I am just Elena. I am just an unwanted daughter. I am just the one who cleans up the messes.

But I do not. I just stand there. Waiting. Watching.

My mother drops her hands from her face. She looks at me. Her eyes are wild. Desperate. I have never seen her like this. She is always so controlled. So composed. But right now, she is falling apart.

"Elena," she says. Her voice is sharp. Commanding. "You are going to take her place."

I blink. "What?"

"I said you are going to take her place. You are going to walk down that aisle. You are going to marry Daniel Valmont. You are going to save this family."

I stare at her. I cannot believe what I am hearing. This is insane. This is the most insane thing she has ever said to me.

"Mother, I cannot…."

"You can. You will. You do not have a choice." She steps closer to me. Her voice is low. Urgent. "Do you understand what is at stake? Laurent Jewels. Our reputation. Our legacy. If this wedding is canceled, the press will destroy us. The board will panic. We could lose everything."

"And you want me to fix it."

"I want you to do what you always do. Be useful."

I feel something crack inside me. Something I did not know was still intact. I have spent my entire life being invisible. Being ignored. Being unwanted. But this is different. This is not just being pushed aside. This is being shoved into the spotlight as a replacement. A placeholder. A stand-in for the daughter they actually love.

"I do not even know Daniel," I say. "I have never even had a real conversation with him. How can I marry him?"

"It does not matter. He will not care. He is a Valmont. He understands duty. He understands obligation. He will do what needs to be done."

"And what about Victoria? What happens when she comes back?"

My mother's face tightens. "When Victoria returns, this marriage will be annulled. She will take her place and you will step aside. You will go back to your quarters. You will be invisible again. Just like you always have been."

I hear the words. I feel them sink into my chest like stones. She does not want me to be happy. She does not want me to succeed. She wants me to be useful and then invisible again.

"Mother…"

"Do not argue with me!" She grabs my arm again. Her grip is punishing. "This is not a request. This is not a negotiation. You are going to do this. You are going to walk down that aisle. You are going to say your vows. You are going to save this family. Do you understand me?"

I look at her face. There is no love there. No warmth. Just cold, hard calculation. I am not her daughter. I am a tool. A placeholder. Someone to be used and discarded when I am no longer useful.

"Yes, Mother," I say. My voice is flat and empty.

She releases my arm. She smooths down my dress. The gesture is almost kind. Almost maternal. But I know it is not. She is making sure I am presentable. She is making sure I do not embarrass her.

"Good," she says. "Now go to the salon. The stylists are waiting. They will make the necessary adjustments. The ceremony is in two hours. Do not be late."

I nod. I cannot speak. My throat is too tight.

I turn around. I walk back toward the salon. My legs are shaking. My hands are trembling. I feel like I am floating outside my body, watching myself from a distance. This is not real. This cannot be real.

I walk into the salon. The stylists are already waiting. They swarm around me like vultures. They pin and tuck and adjust. They talk to me like I am a mannequin. Like I am not even there.

"Hold still."

"Lift your arms."

"Turn around."

I do everything they say. I do not argue. I do not protest. I just stand there and let them work.

The dress is too tight. Victoria is taller than me. The hem drags on the floor. The seams strain at my hips. They pin and tuck and adjust. They do not ask me how I feel. They do not ask me if I am okay.

I look at myself in the mirror. I do not recognize the woman staring back at me. She is wearing a dress that does not belong to her. A veil that was meant for someone else. She looks like a fraud.

Because she is.

I am a fraud. I have always been a fraud. I pretend that I am fine. I pretend that their rejection does not hurt. I pretend that I do not care that they love Victoria more. But I do care. I have always cared. I just do not know how to stop.

The door opens. I look up. My father walks in. Julian Laurent. The CEO of Laurent Jewels. The man who has never once looked at me like I was his daughter.

He is wearing a black suit. His face is cold. Unreadable. He looks at me. For a moment, he does not say anything. He just stares.

"Elena," he says finally. "Your mother has told me what is happening."

I nod. I cannot speak.

He walks closer. He looks at the dress. He looks at my face. His expression is unreadable.

"This is a difficult situation," he says. "I am sure you understand the importance of this wedding. The Valmont family is powerful. Laurent Jewels needs this alliance. Without it, we could face serious financial consequences."

"Father…."

"Do not interrupt me." His voice is cold. Sharp. "You are not a child. You are a grown woman. You understand duty. You understand the obligation. You will do what needs to be done."

I stare at him. He is not asking me. He is telling me. He is not treating me like a daughter. He is treating me like an employee. A subordinate. Someone who exists to serve the family's needs.

"Yes, Father," I say. My voice is hollow.

He nods once. "Good. Do not embarrass us. Do not make this harder than it needs to be. Say your vows. Smile for the cameras. Save the family. That is all we are asking."

He turns and walks out of the salon. The door closes behind him. I am alone again.

I look at myself in the mirror. The woman staring back at me is crying. Silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She looks broken. She looks lost. She looks like she has given up.

I want to tell her it is okay. I want to tell her that this is not the end. But I cannot. Because I do not believe it.

I am the spare. I have always been the spare. And I will always be the spare.

I close my eyes. I take a breath. I push the tears back down. I will not cry. I refuse to cry.

I have a wedding to attend.

And I am the bride.