The ivory silk gown whispered as Evelyn moved down the hall, the lace train gliding over the polished marble floors. Her fingers, adorned with soft French-tipped nails, clutched a small bouquet of peonies—her mother's choice, not hers. Her heart pounded not with excitement, but with an unease she couldn't name. Something felt wrong. Off.
This feeling has settled in the pit of her stomach ever since she woke up this morning, and it had not left. Not even whole her bridesmaids joked and played around her. She just felt aloof of it all.
"Daniel hasn't been seen since the rehearsal," whispered a bridesmaid behind her.
"I saw Liliana heading toward the groom's suite," another said.
Evelyn stopped. Her breath hitched.
Liliana?
No. She shook her head, trying to calm the churn in her stomach. Her sister wouldn't… not today.
But Evelyn's feet began moving faster, her heels clacking now, echoing like gunfire through the halls of the grand estate. Her father's estate—soon to be a gift to Daniel, the son-in-law who never earned it.
She passed by the floral archway where guests were settling, unaware that the bride was about to disappear. She turned a corner, nearly bumping into a server holding champagne.
The door to the groom's suite was slightly ajar.
That same sick, heavy feeling clenched her gut again. Her hands were trembling now, and she wasn't sure if it was fear or something worse—instinct.
She placed a palm on the door and pushed it open.
The sight on the other side burned itself into her mind like a brand.
Liliana. Daniel. Half-naked. Twisted in silk sheets, her sister's bridal shower lingerie discarded on the floor like tissue paper. Daniel's tie hung around his neck, unknotted, his shirt open. Their bodies were tangled, the kind of entanglement that came from years of secret betrayals.
Liliana let out a shriek. Daniel froze, wide-eyed, mid-motion.
For a second, Evelyn didn't move. Didn't breathe. Her heart stilled, time suspended.
Then the peonies slipped from her hand, scattering petals across the Persian rug like drops of blood.
"You bastard," she whispered, her voice low, trembling. "You disgusting bastard."
"Evelyn—" Daniel sat up, fumbling to cover himself, guilt carved across his face.
"You were supposed to be marrying me in ten minutes!" she screamed, voice cracking. "Ten minutes, Daniel!"
Liliana smirked. "Well, better you find out before the vows than after, right?"
That did it.
Evelyn charged.
She grabbed a champagne bottle from a nearby table and flung it across the room. It shattered above Daniel's head, showering glass over the bed.
He ducked, cussing. "Fuck—"
"You think this is a game?" she shouted, her voice echoing down the halls. "You think you can betray me, humiliate me, and still play the groom?"
Security and staff began to gather outside the door.
Liliana, still wrapped in the sheet like a Roman goddess, stood up. "You've always been dramatic, Evie. No wonder Daddy wanted me in charge instead."
Evelyn lunged for her.
Liliana stumbled back, slipping on the silk throw, nearly falling. Evelyn caught her wrist mid-air, yanking her close.
"You've been sleeping with him this whole time, haven't you?"
Liliana's smirk faltered. "So what if I have? He chose me."
Evelyn's hand cracked across her sister's face.
Gasps exploded from the door as bridesmaids and family members arrived.
"Evelyn, enough!" her father barked, stepping into the room.
She turned to him, hair falling loose from the elegant chignon. Her mascara ran in black streaks down her cheeks. "You knew, didn't you?"
Silence.
"You knew," she repeated, her voice hollow now. "You let this happen. You let me walk down the aisle to a man screwing my sister because you wanted me out of the way."
Her father didn't deny it.
Daniel moved behind him, now clothed but disheveled, trying to play victim. "This isn't what you think—"
"Don't," she growled, eyes blazing. "Don't say another word."
Her mother appeared in the doorway, lips pressed together tightly. She looked at Evelyn, not with sympathy, but with mild embarrassment. As if Evelyn was the problem. As if she was ruining the day.
And that's when Evelyn knew.
She was alone.
But she refused to be the victim.
She straightened, breathing hard, chest rising and falling like a warrior before battle.
Daniel lunged for her, grabbing her arm. "Stop!"
She turned on him, yanking herself free. "Touch me again and I swear, Daniel, I'll break your fucking wrist."
Security moved in. Her father raised his hand, signaling them to hold.
Evelyn stepped out of the room and onto the staircase landing that overlooked the reception hall below. The guests had heard enough. They were already watching.
"I won't be silenced. Not now, not ever again."
She tore off her veil and flung it from the banister, the fabric floating like a white flag descending into chaos.
"And you—" she said, turning to her father, "you just made the worst mistake of your life."
Then she turned on her heel and walked away. Past the gawking guests, past the shame, past the ruins of everything she'd planned.
Down the stairs. Out the gilded doors.
Into the storm outside.
Rain was falling in sheets, soaking her dress instantly, washing away the remnants of innocence, of dreams, of lies. Thunder cracked overhead. Evelyn looked up, lightning reflected in her eyes.
She didn't cry.
Not anymore.
She kept walking—soaked, barefoot, the hem of her gown dragging through mud. Each step shed the past like skin.
---
The sound of her heels on the marble floor was muffled by the ringing in Evelyn's ears. Her chest burned. The image of Daniel's naked body pressed against Liliana's was seared into her brain like a brand. Her sister's smug smirk. Daniel's half-hearted attempt to reach for her. Her veil trailing behind her like some cruel joke.
She didn't cry. Not immediately.
Evelyn's feet carried her through the gilded halls of the Carter estate on instinct. Past the portraits, the white rose arrangements, the carefully curated facade of perfection built brick by brick by a family obsessed with image. Her lungs felt tight. Her body weightless, like she wasn't even walking—just floating through a dream rapidly tipping into a nightmare.