Chapter 3 The wedding

Mia's pov

The wedding dress was all white silk and shit, like I was some virgin maiden instead of a killer coming in wraps like a flipping Christmas gift. Martha had picked it out personally, which meant it was probably cursed or hexed or designed specifically to make me look as uncomfortable as possible.

"You look beautiful," Clara said from the doorway, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Jonathan won't even recognize you."

Won't recognize you, of course he wouldn't, because Sophia was dead and buried under surgical maiden.

"That's the point, isn't it?" I adjusted the veil in the mirror, studying the stranger staring back at me.

"Do you need something, Clara? Or did you just come to watch me suffer?" I smirked.

"Can't a sister wish the bride well on her special day?" She walked into the room, without permission wearing that infuriatingly innocent smile. At twenty-one, Clara had perfected the art of looking harmless while holding knives and bombs behind her back.

"You're not my sister." I kept my tone friendly and pleasant. "You're the daughter of the woman who made my childhood a living hell, let's not pretend we're family."

Her smile didn't fade, as a matter of fact, it widened. "Still so bitter about Mom marrying Dad, it's been twelve years, Mia."

As if grief had an expiry date. As if could actually forgive my father for replacing my dying mother before her body was cold, then spent the next decade letting his new family treat me like a maid.

"What do you want, Clara?" I asked with a more serious expression.

"I want to give you some advice, sister to sister." She sat on the edge of my bed, smoothing her bridesmaid dress. "Don't expect Jonathan to fall in love with you."

"I don't expect anything from Jonathan except exactly what this marriage is-a business arrangement." I shot back.

"Good, because he's not the romantic type. From what I've heard, he's cold, ruthless, and doesn't waste time on sentimentality." Clara sounded utterly interested in him, especially the way her face lit up when she spoke. "He'll use you the same way Dad is using you. The only difference is Jonathan won't pretend to care."

"Noted," I said, expecting her to spew more nonsense. "Anything else?"

"Just one more thing." She stood, moving closer. "Collins was here earlier, he left something for you, an envelope. Martha took it."

"Why would Martha-" she was gone before I could complete my statement leaving me alone with my wedding dress and a whole new set of questions I couldn't answer.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. "Miss De Luca? The car is ready." The voice came from outside.

Already? I glanced at the clock, it was ten minutes before I was supposed to leave for the church.

"I'll be right there," I called out, my voice even more steady than I was.

I took one last look at the mirror, My new face staring back at me, beautiful in a way Sophia had never been, screaming De Luca money and power.

Jonathan wouldn't recognize me, he'd look at my face and all he'd see is a stranger, a business arrangement.

He wouldn't see the woman he'd used to love and care for, the same woman whose heart he had shattered without remorse. Maybe that was for the best, perhaps it was easier to kill a man who didn't remember loving you.

The car ride to the church was very silent except for Elena's occasional adjustments to my veil and Martha's constant chuckle at my misery. They sat beside me like guards, making sure their investment didn't run before the transaction was complete.

"Remember," Elena said as we finally pulled up to the church, "you are representing this family today, so smile and do whatever it takes to look charming and make Jonathan believe this marriage is everything he wants."

Everything he wants, what a joke. As if they had any idea what Jonathan even wanted.

"And tonight," Martha added, not sparing me a minute of rest. "you'll begin gathering the information we need. His computer passwords, his security arrangements, his schedule. Collins will contact you tomorrow with specific instructions."

The church doors stood tall at our front, massive with old wood and very intimidating. I could see the guests taking their seats, half of them were criminals, while the other half of them were corporate elite, all of them present to witness the arranged marriage.

"Show time," Martha said cheerfully, like we were about to watch a comedy show in a cinema.

The doors opened, soft music played and suddenly I was walking down an aisle toward Jonathan Mysterio-the man I'd loved, the man who'd shattered my heart and the man I was now supposed to destroy.

He stood at the altar wearing a designer suit, knowing him, it was probably one of one specifically crafted for him. He looked exactly as I remembered, but some things about him were a little different. Especially the soft look in his eyes, it was completely gone, replaced by a very cold and stoic one.

His face was very neutral and passive, almost like he was bored as he watched me approach with eyes that looked like it was scanning a land or a car that he was about to acquire.

our eyes met but there was nothing, not even an hint of recognition or even realization that I was someone he once knew, not just knew but loved.

Good, this is good. I told myself, it'd be easier this way.

I reached the altar and the music stopped.

Jonathan reached for my hand, and there was no familiarity, it was like touching a stranger. Up close, I could see the coldness in his eyes, this wasn't the man who'd laughed with me over terrible movies and expensive wine. This was someone else entirely, someone hardened by will and ambition.

"Do you, Mia De Luca, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

No, I do not, i absolutely don't fucking take this man to be my lawfully wedded husband

"I do," I heard the words stumble out before I could stop them.

"And do you, Jonathan Mysterio, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

He didn't hesitate, not even a pause or a barely visible flicker of doubt.

"I do."He said, his expression remaining neutral, perfectly devoid of anything with the slightest resemblance to emotion.

The priest smiled like he'd just witnessed something beautiful instead of something absolutely weird and awkward, if those words could actually qualify what was going on.

"You may kiss the bride."

Jonathan's hands reached for my face in a very mechanical manner. His kiss was stiff and brief and absolutely nothing like the kisses we'd shared when I was Sophia. It lasted what, maybe two seconds, short enough to make it clear this meant nothing to him

When he pulled back, his expression was still absolutely neutral cold.

"Done," he said quietly, like we'd just completed a transaction instead of a wedding.

We turned to face the crowd, as applaud erupted through the air, different breed of people, clapping towards my doom with smiles on their faces.

Jonathan's hand was slightly placed on my waist as he guided me back down the aisle. We didn't speak, didn't even look at each other. We just walked in silence while cameras flashed and people smiled and pretended this was something other than a perfectly orchestrated lie.

And somewhere in the crowd, I knew that Collins was watching, Martha was smiling in mischief and my father was calculating his next move.

All of them waiting to see how long it would take before I gained Jonathan's trust and ended his life for good.

What a drag.