That’s why I never searched her name. Why I avoided exhibitions she might attend. Why I made sure our worlds never overlapped again.
The attraction is even more brutal now.
And guilt—rotten, persistent guilt—claws at me. I ruined her once. And fate—or karma—has brought her back, wrapped in silk and diamond rings.
I don’t believe in destiny. But I believe in consequences.
And I can feel one coming, with Sienna’s perfume on its breath.
The wedding is set for ten days.
I need to prepare.
Not for matrimony. Not for family politics. But for the war she has brought to my doorstep.
Chapter 10 – Sienna
It’s my wedding morning.
I sit before a gilded mirror as the stylist pins pearls into my red hair, each one placed with precision, each one a quiet reminder of control. My gown hangs from the carved wardrobe behind me: minimalist silk, open back, structured bodice. Exquisite, unromantic, like every part of this plan.
I won’t give Sebastian softness. I will not step into this marriage pretending to be anything other than the woman I’ve become. My revenge demands clarity. Presence. And today marks the first real step.
“You look positively radiant.” The stylist steps back, eyes wide. “It’s time to put the dress on, Sienna.”
I nod calmly. My fingers grip the chair as she lifts the gown, letting the silk glide over my skin. Cool, smooth, precise, it settles into place like armor, a second skin designed to protect and disarm.
I catch my reflection in the mirror. Every line of my posture, every tilt of my head, every measured breath is intentional. This isn’t the girl Sebastian once thought he could break. I’m different. I’ll wreck him before he has the chance to jump off the ship.
The stylist swallows, clearly impressed. “You look…breathtaking.”
I allow the smallest, controlled smile. “Thank you.”
I lift my chin, take a slow, intentional breath. Today I walk into a marriage, yes, but also into the reckoning he never saw coming. Today, I’m visible. I’m untouchable.
A knock interrupts my thoughts. The stylist opens the door, and my father steps in, chest swelling with misty pride. I nod politely, allowing myself a fraction of warmth—not becausehe deserves it, but because he’s a means to an end. I will not let resentment cloud strategy.
He sold me off to the Rusnaks without asking me, without considering if I wanted this. The only reason I still speak to him is because it favors me.
“Time to go,” he says, his voice steady. “Everyone is already waiting at the church.”
The stylist helps me slip into my shoes, the silk of the gown whispering against my legs. I rise carefully, feeling the weight of every pearl in my hair, every fold of silk around my body.
I take my father’s arm, walking with calculated grace. Each step measured, deliberate. I follow him out of the room, leaving the quiet of my preparation behind. Outside, the world waits.
We walk silently down the stairs and pause at the entrance of the chapel. Soft music drifts through the air, delicate but commanding. My father looks at me.
“Ready?”
I nod.
The guards outside throw the doors open, and we step inside. Every pair of eyes turns to me. Chandeliers bathe the chapel in soft, golden light. White flowers line the aisles, their scent drifting lightly through the air. Wealth, ceremony, expectation—it presses down, thick and undeniable.
But I see only one man.
Sebastian stands at the altar, emotion clenched tight beneath the flawless control of his expression. His suit is black, perfectly tailored, and his hair is slightly tousled, as though he’s run a hand through it too many times, battling the storm inside him. His gaze locks on mine.
For a heartbeat, the world stops. The music, the murmurs, the shifting of feet—it all falls away. He looks at menot with the hunger of the past, nor the guilt I half-expected. He looks at me with recognition.
