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She’s walking beside her father,Ethan Evans.He looks as stoic as ever, his broad frame and hard expression giving nothing away. I’ve worked with him long enough to know he’s already counted this deal as a win, the daughter he’s paraded down the aisle just another piece in his endless game.
But her? She’s something else entirely.
Her face is obscured by the veil, but I can see the way her shoulders are slumped, the way she clutches the bouquet like it’s her lifeline. The dress—God, the dress—it’s everything I imagined and nothing I wanted. She looks like a goddess, ethereal and untouchable, and it hits me harder than it should.
I hate this.
I hate what I’m doing to her, the position I’ve put her in. She doesn’t deserve this—any of it. She doesn’t even know the full truth yet, and when she does…
My chest tightens, but I force the thought away.
I have no choice.
Her steps falter slightly, and for a moment, I think she’s going to turn and run. My pulse spikes as her father’s arm wraps around hers, steadying her.
When they reach the altar, Ethan places her hand in mine. Her touch is light, hesitant, and I feel her flinch at the contact.
“Take care of her,” Ethan says quietly, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.
I glance at him, my jaw tightening. There’s no warmth in his words, no genuine concern. Just a reminder of the deal we struck.
“I will,” I reply, my voice steady, though the weight of the promise settles heavily on my chest.
The minister begins to speak, his voice echoing through the church as he reads out the vows. The words blur together, but I force myself to focus, to play my part.
When the time comes, I say the words. “I do.” The sound of my own voice feels foreign, hollow.
Then the minister turns to her, repeating the question.
There’s a long pause, and I can feel the tension in the room rise. She doesn’t speak right away, and I wonder if she’s going to refuse. Part of me hopes she does, even as I know the consequences would be disastrous.
Finally, her voice comes, soft and trembling. “I do.”
The minister smiles, pronouncing us husband and wife, but I barely hear him. My focus is entirely on her. I step closer, reaching for her veil. My hands tremble slightly as I lift it, the soft fabric sliding back to reveal her face.
Her green eyes meet mine, wide with shock and something else—betrayal.
Her lips tremble, and the color drains from her face so quickly it’s as though someone pulled the life out of her. She sways on her feet, her fingers loosening their hold on the bouquet until it slips from her hands and lands softly on the marble floor.
“Lila?” I step closer, reaching for her, my heart pounding as I watch her stumble.
And then she collapses.
Her knees buckle, her body crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut. Instinct takes over, and I lunge forward, catching her in my arms just before she hits the ground.
The room erupts into gasps and murmurs, the guests shifting and craning their necks to see what’s happening.
I ignore them.
All I can focus on is her—her pale face, the way her lashes flutter against her cheeks, her shallow breaths as she lies limp in my arms.
“Lila,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Kiska, wake up.”
Her father is by my side in an instant, his face twisted in a mixture of concern and frustration. “What the hell happened?”
“She fainted,” I say flatly, my voice sharp as I glare at him. “She’s overwhelmed.”
Ethan’s lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue. “Take her somewhere private. She doesn’t need an audience for this.”