Chapter 1 Ashes of a Wedding

The scent of roses hung heavy in the Alaric estate's ballroom, layered thick with the perfume of false smiles and fragile promises. Chandeliers glittered above, casting crystalline shadows over the ivory floors, as if trying to mimic the stars on a night that should have been magical. Seraphina Alaric stood at the heart of it all, her wedding dress a delicate cascade of pearls and chiffon. Each stitch had been hand-sewn by Milan's finest. Her shoes were imported from Paris, and her bouquet - a mix of white orchids and violet calla lilies - symbolized innocence and loyalty.

Irony, it seemed, had a flair for the dramatic. She stood poised yet uneasy, eyes sweeping across the marble ballroom for a glimpse of her fiancé. Her father, Edwin Alaric, CEO of the Alaric Consortium, paced near the ceremonial arch. Her mother, Helena, fanned herself with a pearl-encrusted fan while whispering into the ears of socialites, painting smiles to hide her simmering anxiety. Her younger cousin Liliana offered a half-hearted grin from the refreshment table, her gown a bit too tight, her lipstick a bit too bold. But there was no sign of Adrian Daemon - the groom. "Where is he?" Seraphina asked her maid of honor, Ivy, whose complexion had lost its usual warmth. "He... he stepped out," Ivy said. "About an hour ago. Said he had to make a phone call." Seraphina's brows furrowed. An hour? She checked the time again - he was now fifteen minutes late. Her fingers clutched the bouquet more tightly. "He probably just got cold feet," Ivy added with a nervous laugh. "It happens, right?" Seraphina tried to smile. "Right." The orchestra swelled with the soft harmonies of Vivaldi, the tempo quickening like the thud of her pulse. Her heels clicked against marble as she moved to the nearest balcony. The evening air was warm, rich with the scent of orange blossoms. Fireflies danced beyond the garden hedges. It should have been a perfect night. Instead, it felt like a storm about to break. Suddenly, a loud gasp erupted from inside the ballroom, followed by murmurs. She turned back. Henrik Daemon, Adrian's cousin, had burst through the ballroom's main entrance. His tie hung crooked, face flushed with sweat and panic. A phone clutched in his trembling hand glowed with an open image. The whispers stopped as he spoke, and his voice sliced through the air like a blade. "They're gone," he said. "Adrian and Liliana... They eloped. They've left the country." The room erupted. Gasps. Cries. Chairs screeched back. Helena Alaric fainted into a waiting settee, her fan fluttering from her hand like a dying bird. Edwin Alaric turned into stone, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck bulged. Seraphina felt the floor vanish beneath her. "No... That can't be true," she whispered. Henrik stepped forward, offering the phone. On the screen was a selfie of Adrian and Liliana at a private airport, fingers intertwined, smiling like victorious thieves. The caption read: "A new beginning. Sorry, not sorry." Her heart didn't just break. It collapsed into ash. The man she had spent five years loving, the man who'd asked her to build a future together, had betrayed her in the worst way imaginable - with the girl she had grown up beside, her cousin. But the disaster wasn't over. Henrik swallowed hard and leaned toward Edwin Alaric. "He didn't just take Liliana," he said. "He took the Daemon-Alaric contracts... the shared accounts. Everything set for the merger. Gone." Gone. Just like that. This wasn't only a personal betrayal. It was corporate espionage. Seraphina's lips parted, but no words emerged. Then came the second blow. A security guard approached. "Miss Alaric," he said, his voice tight. "There's been an incident involving your brother." Her blood froze. "Sebastian?" "Yes. His car... it crashed en route to the estate. He died on impact." The air left her lungs. Her older brother. The one constant in her life. Her protector. Her best friend. Dead? She dropped her bouquet. Silence descended upon her, swallowing her in a vacuum of disbelief. Her knees buckled, and for a moment, she thought she might scream, but instead, a terrifying stillness settled over her. She stood. Straightened her spine. Lifted her chin. The whispers intensified. "First jilted... now this?" "Poor girl..." "She must've known. She's not innocent." And then came the most crushing voice of all - her father's. "You've humiliated this family," Edwin said coldly. "This is your doing." She turned to him, face pale as marble. "What?" "You brought him in. You vouched for him. You insisted on the merger. You fell for him," he spat. "Now our legacy lies in ruins." Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had been betrayed. By Adrian. By Liliana. By her own blood. And now? Now they blamed her. Two Weeks Later They buried Sebastian on a grey, overcast day, the rain falling like tears from the sky. No reporters were allowed. No guests. Only family - and even that felt hollow. Her mother stood three feet away but didn't offer a single word. Her father gave a curt nod, then disappeared into a waiting car. Seraphina remained long after everyone left, standing beside the headstone, umbrella forgotten at her side. "I should've seen it," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Seb." Wind tugged at her veil as she knelt to touch the wet earth. Then, from within her coat, she pulled out a small journal - Sebastian's. She had found it tucked away in a safe in his apartment, the pages filled with meticulous handwriting, diagrams, lists of names... and secrets. Names of people inside the Alaric and Daemon empires who had conspired. Including Liliana. Including Adrian. And one name that shocked her most of all - Edwin Alaric. Her father. Her own father had been aware of the scheme to betray her. He hadn't stopped it. He had enabled it. And for what? Control? Reputation? She clutched the journal to her chest. They thought they had buried her. They were wrong. She wasn't gone. She was being reborn. Seven Years Later – Venice The Palazzo Domenico glowed with candlelight, shadows dancing across gold-framed mirrors and velvet-draped walls. The masquerade gala was the event of the year - a parade of wealth and ego hidden behind jeweled masks. Among the elite, a woman entered like smoke. Her gown was midnight-black silk, slit high on the thigh and cut low at the back. Her mask was gold filigree with phoenix feathers that curved like flames over her temples. She was tall, elegant, unapologetically commanding. No one recognized her. And that was exactly the point. Seraphina Alaric - now known to the world as Vera Dae, founder and CEO of the global conglomerate Dae Group - had returned. Behind the mask was no longer the broken heiress. This woman had carved her empire from nothing, built her fortune through ruthless strategy and veiled partnerships. Over the years, she had bought failing companies, turned them profitable, and quietly dismantled Adrian Daemon's assets one by one. But she never showed her face. Until now. She walked through the ballroom like a queen surveying her conquered kingdom. Glasses clinked. Laughter rose. A symphony played beneath the grand dome ceiling. Then - he appeared. Adrian Daemon. He hadn't aged well. Still handsome, but the glint in his eye had dulled. His movements lacked the grace they once had. He wore arrogance like a cloak - but it was threadbare. And beside him - Liliana. Her hair dyed, her figure different, but still clinging to the man she had stolen. Seraphina's lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. She approached the bar and nodded to the bartender. "Vera Dae. Vodka. Straight." The name rippled through nearby ears like a secret suddenly made real. Adrian turned - saw her. His eyes widened. He blinked once. Twice. Then his mouth opened. "Ser-?" "No," she interrupted, her voice smooth, cold, refined. "It's Vera. Vera Dae." And with that, she toasted the past. And prepared to burn it all down. End of Chapter One