Page 103

The dress is next.
It’s laid out across the bed like something sacred. Ivory silk. Minimalist. No lace. No frills. Just clean, expensive lines. The fabric whispers against my skin as she helps me into it. Not a word spoken. Just zippers drawn and shoulders adjusted. The woman hands me my shoes without a word, and I step into them.
When I step outside, the sun is setting. The garden smells of roses. A breeze flutters through the lace canopy set up at the far end. Chairs are arranged in perfect rows, and a small archway is wrapped in white lilies.
Cristóbal waits at the altar in a gray suit, his smile making my skin crawl. An officiant stands beside him. They hand me a bouquet, and I begin walking toward my nightmare.
“Do you, Xiomara Delgado, take Cristóbal Ruiz to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My throat is dry. The words lodge there, like a heavy stone.
I do not, and I never will.I scream on the inside.
But outwardly, I nod.
“I do.”
A ring slides onto my finger. Thick, gaudy, and heavy. Cristóbal kisses me, but I don’t kiss back. His lips feel like cold, dead fish, and I know instinctively that he would taste like rot.
His men applaud, and I smile. Not because I want to, but because I have to.
We head to the sitting room after the ceremony, and I am shown to a velvet chair and handed my phone.
Cristóbal stands nearby, arms folded, his eyes slitted with smug satisfaction. He’s promised me ten minutes of time with Maksim if I do this right.
When I power on the phone, notifications explode across the screen—texts, missed calls, voicemails. All of them screaming the same thing: they’re looking for me.
Cristóbal gestures toward the device. “Call them. Be the perfect daughter. Have them sleep tonight thinking you’re safe in your new home.”
I feel my throat tighten, and forcefully swallow back the bile burning up my chest. My fingers are trembling as I press in the number.
Every ring feels like it’s peeling a layer off my skin.
38
“¡Mija? Dios mío,is it really you? Where are you? Where is Maksim? Are you both safe? What happened? Why has your phone been switched off?”
My mother’s voice spills through the phone like a storm. Relief, panic, grief all tangled together.
My throat tightens. But I hold the line steady.
“I’m sorry I made you worry,” I say softly. “I didn’t mean to. But I’m okay, truly. Maksim is safe too.”
There’s a shuffle. A deeper voice takes over.
“Where are you?” my father demands. He sounds weaker than I’ve ever heard him. But the fury is there. And the pain.
“Who took you? Are you alright? Say a word—just one—let me know where you are and I’ll send every man I have.”
I breathe in slowly, and count to three.
“Papa. I’m not being held,” I lie. “I… disappeared because Cristóbal and I wanted to spend some time alone. To solidify things between us before we told you, and then go public with our relationship.”
“What do you mean, ‘solidify things’?” he growls. “Mara. Tell me this is a joke.”
I close my eyes. Let the next lie fall like stone.
“Cristóbal and I are married. We had a private ceremony.”