Chapter 4 SHATTERED WEDDING (1)

Three months.

That's how long it's been since I was expected to die.

That's how long it's been since Damien saved me from the fire since I was transformed, reformulated, and no longer the damaged lady my stepmother and stepsister had struggled to kill.

Now, I stand before the mirror, no longer Aria Donovan, the unimportant girl of a deceased mother.

I am something else entirely.

The glow of the vanity lights drops shadows over my face, exposing the smartness of my features. My former dull eyes now carry something incomprehensible, something Damien nurtured in my power. All thanks to him.

The silk of my gown whiffs over my skin as I turn slightly, its impact grounding me. The gown boldly embraces my curves with ivory satin, while soft lace outlines my collarbones and the sleeves float like drizzle.

The bodice hugs my waist and flows into a train that pools at my feet like moonlight.

A wedding gown.

Mine to be precise.

I press my fingers against the marble surface of the vanity, enjoying its calmness, anchoring myself to the realism of what I'm about to do. The woman in the mirror is new-graceful, poised, a picture of confusion cloaked in beauty.

I close my eyes, and the memory strikes like a sword.

The fire. The gas hurting my lungs. The voices faded as my consciousness slid off. Then, firm arms, lifting me, carrying me through the flames. A deep voice, one that had never sounded far, now serious and commanding. And suddenly, blackness.

When I woke, I was in Damien's home. He had rescued me. He had offered me shelter.

He had transformed me. He saw the way I was damaged and dealt with as if my presence was an inconvenience, and for some reason, that made him act. He refined me, tore off the weak scraps of who I used to be, and in their place, something unbreakable was built.

And now, I am returning the favour. Saving him from marrying a devil in disguise and getting my revenge. Even though he feels reluctant about this.

Today is Viviene's wedding day.

Today is expected to be the day she weds Damien.

A knock at the door draws me out of my thoughts.

I inhale deeply, easing invisible wrinkles from my robe. My pulse is calm and my courage firm.

"Come in," I say, my tone calm.

The door opens, and Damien steps inside.

For a minute, he's mute.

His views travel over me gently, tracing every detail of my gown. The way it hugs my body. The contrast of ivory against my black hair, which is swept up in a sophisticated style, delicate strands outlining my face.

His lips part as if finding words he resolves against speaking.

Then, eventually, a simple remark:

"You look..." He holds himself. His jaw stiffens. He lets out through his nose, unreadable as ever.

Pretty. I know that's what he wanted to say. But Damien doesn't offer compliments easily.

Instead, his gaze hardens. "You're going through with this."

I meet his stare, determined. "Yes."

His palms slide into the pockets of his tailored black suit. The texture spreads across his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to hint at the rich skin beneath. He looks like power, like control, the one man who has unintentionally given me the weapons to take back what was snatched from me.

"I told you before, Aria," his tone is low and calculated. "I don't think we should push through with this plan."

"We agreed on this already," I oppose, walking closer. "This is revenge."

His face remains stoic, but I don't miss the slight tick in his jaw.

"I need this, Damien." My expression softens, but the steel beneath it stands. "This is the only way I know how to ruin them."

A muscle in his cheek tightens.

For a moment, he speaks nothing.

Then-

"What if you're making a mistake marrying me."

I sway my head lightly, examining him. "Then let me make it. This is the only revenge I know of."

His gaze gleams and something incomprehensible plays through his face.

I take one final step, closing the distance between us. "You saved me before," I mutter, my tone barely above a sigh. "Save me again. And I'm saving you too in return."

His sigh snags, so soft I almost miss it.

I don't break eye contact with him.

Moments pass. The air between us swells, charged with something I can't identify.

Then-

He breathes, running a hand through his hair.

"Damn it."

Hesitation, frustration, and something else-something about resigned gleams across his face.

I realize I've won.

"Fine," he replies, the phrase strapped with something intense.

A triumphant smile curves my lips.

I stride back, turning toward the mirror one last time, drinking at the sight of myself, a woman who is about to seize everything from those who tried to end her.

Damien examines me. I feel his gaze, heavy on me.

"Shall we?" His tone is gentle and composed.

I turn to see his palm held out.

I place mine in his, our fingers brushing, his warmth oozing into my skin.

A shiver goes down my spine.

We walk toward the door, step by step, deliberate march toward the ruin of the people who tried to bury me.

The driver is already waiting outside. The black limousine glows in the car park.

We enter and the door clicks shut; I breathe softly, a smirk forming on my lips.

Viviene is unaware of what's coming.

Damien sits next to me, silent, tapping his fingers on his knee.

I peek at him, my voice calm but firm.

"Viviene has no idea what's coming for her."

And as the car pulls off, a storm of revenge brews.

And I am at its centre.