Chapter 7 The Ring, the Lie, and the Shot

Three days.

That's all it took to bury every dream Seraphina once held in her fragile heart.

Three days to kill the version of her who believed love was something pure.

She stood in front of the cracked mirror in her bedroom, staring at her reflection. A black gown clung to her frame - elegant, understated, and nothing like the red mid-thigh monstrosity Nate had sent. He had even paired it with a gaudy diamond necklace and matching earrings, like putting chains on a pet and calling it love.

But she refused, "No chains today." She had thought.

The soft rustle behind her broke her thoughts. Her mother - Megan - stood silently in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed and exhausted, face tear-streaked.

"You don't have to do this," Megan whispered. "Baby, please... don't go. I beg you."

Seraphina finally turned from the mirror. For the first time in days, she smiled - but it wasn't warm. It was the kind of smile a person wears when the war is already lost and they're walking into surrender with their head high.

"I want to," she said softly, "I have to. I already promised."

Her mother's brows furrowed. "You can't mean that."

Seraphina stepped forward, took Megan's hand, and squeezed it gently.

"Have a little more faith in your daughter," she said.

That was when Megan broke. Her arms wrapped tightly around Seraphina, sobs racking through her chest.

"You're all I have left," she wept. "You're my only child, my whole world, Sera... I can't lose you to that man. He doesn't love you. He doesn't deserve you. His hands are stained!"

Seraphina stroked her mother's hair and whispered, "I'll come back. I promise."

A silence passed. Then Megan pulled away slowly, wiping her tears. "Have you seen your father?"

Seraphina's eyes darkened. "No. And I don't think I can. He's... angry. Disappointed. And if I see him, I might change my mind. I can't afford that."

Megan exhaled shakily. "You're so much stronger than you think."

"Crying won't change anything," Seraphina said, her voice flat now. "It never does."

Suddenly, a knock burst through the tension.

The door flung open, and in walked a lanky, cocky man in a fitted blazer and red-tinted sunglasses. He looked too casual for someone escorting a girl to her forced engagement.

His smug grin faltered the moment he saw her gown.

"Yo," he said. "What the hell is that?"

Seraphina ignored him.

The man frowned and walked further in. "You didn't wear what the boss sent."

She still said nothing, instead turning back to her mother. "Let's go."

He grit his teeth and yanked her arm. "I said, what the hell are you wearing?!"

Megan snapped, "Don't touch her like that, you thug!"

He spun to her, flashing a silver pistol from under his coat. "You want me to shut your mouth for good?"

Seraphina stepped between them quickly, heart thundering. "It's fine. Let's just go."

They drove through the city in silence, the tension thick and unbreakable. When they arrived, Seraphina stepped out and craned her neck to look up.

Rooftop of the Mirage Hotel.

19 stories high.

Windy. Cold. A place designed to feel like a fairytale proposal - if you ignored the dread.

The moment the elevator doors opened to the rooftop, Seraphina was met with a sickening display. A dinner table draped in black satin, decorated with black roses, glittering champagne glasses, and candelabras. Fairy lights strung across the rooftop beams flickered like artificial stars.

She gritted her teeth.

"If only the feelings were real... this could've been beautiful."

The man escorting her stayed silent.

"Where is he?" she asked.

He didn't reply.

"I'm going to be his fiancée," she said coldly. "The least you can do is answer."

He snorted. "He'll show up when he wants. You don't command him. You endure him."

She was led to the table.

Megan stood behind her, placing a shaky hand on her daughter's shoulder. Seraphina covered it with her own hand, eyes soft for a fleeting moment.

And then-

Nate appeared.

Wine-red dress shirt, sleeves rolled halfway. Black slacks. Slicked hair. A bouquet of black roses in hand and a cocky smile that faltered the moment he saw her.

"What the hell are you wearing?" he asked sharply.

"A dress," she replied.

"I can see that," he snapped. "I meant why aren't you wearing what I sent you?"

Seraphina folded her arms. "What? Was it too poor for a nobleman like you?"

He rolled his eyes and sat down across from her. "You look like you're heading to a funeral."

She shrugged. "Aren't I?"

Megan's lips tightened. She turned and left them alone.

Nate reached for the wine. "Can we just have a good evening?"

"You best up my parents three days ago, Nate."

He sighed dramatically. "And I also saved them, didn't I? Glass half full. Their debt is cleared."

Seraphina leaned back in her chair. "Let's get this over with. I don't like being outside at this hour."

"Always so eager." He snapped his fingers.

A string quartet stepped from the shadows and began playing "Clair de Lune."

The air shimmered with orchestral notes as waiters brought out plates of fancy hors d'oeuvres. Nate lifted his wineglass, clinked it gently, and smiled.

"You know," he said smoothly, "I could've just ordered you to marry me. No ring. No dinner. No music. But I wanted to give you that fairytale you always dreamed of."

Seraphina scoffed. "I'd rather get it from a demon than a cheater."

He smirked. "Good thing you're getting both."

Then he stood.

Slid his hand into his pocket.

And lowered himself onto one knee.

"Seraphina Vale, will you be my wife?"

Her breath caught.

For a second, everything fell away - the music, the cold wind, even the fear. Just him. Her. And the ghost of what could've been.

If he hadn't lied.

If he hadn't beaten her parents.

If he wasn't part of a world soaked in blood.

Tears stung her eyes.

Still, she lifted her hand.

"...Yes," she whispered.

He slid the ring onto her finger, triumphant.

And then-

A gunshot split the sky.

The music cut out.

Everyone froze.

The wineglass in Nate's hand shattered.

Megan screamed.

Seraphina's heart stopped.

A second shot rang out - closer this time.

And from behind the rooftop door emerged a figure in black.

Tall.

Calm.

Face half-shadowed.

A voice as smooth as velvet and twice as lethal echoed:

"Forgive the interruption... but this wedding is canceled."