The organ music swelled through the cathedral-style chapel of the Grand Raven Hotel.
Every single row of pews was packed with high-society figures, media reporters, and extended relatives.
Flashbulbs went off in steady bursts along the sides of the carpeted aisle.
I kept my spine straight, holding the bouquet of white lilies near my waist.
Luckily, Kristen and I were similar in height and build.
All I had to do was copy her signature poise: chin slightly lifted, shoulders back, gliding forward with deliberate steps.
One foot in front of the other, I told myself.
Just get to the front.
The white veil covered my head entirely.
From the outside, no one could see my face.
From the inside, the world was just a blur of soft light and faint silhouettes.
I could hear everything, though.
The whispering.
The rustle of expensive fabric as people leaned closer.
The occasional camera shutter.
Somewhere in the crowd, someone whispered something about how beautiful the bride looked.
I almost laughed.
If they only knew.
I caught sight of my stepmother sitting in the very front pew on the left, her hands folded over her designer purse.
My father sat beside her, staring straight ahead with his usual blank expression.
A hysterical burst of laughter tried to claw its way up my throat.
I pressed my lips together and swallowed it down.
Not yet.
Don’t ruin it before you cross the finish line.
I reached the bottom of the altar steps.
The priest raised his hands, signaling for the congregation to be seated.
The murmurs died down, leaving only the faint hum of the air conditioning.
I stepped up onto the platform and turned to face the groom.
Through the white mesh of my veil, I could only make out a tall, broad-shouldered figure in a tailored suit.
He stood perfectly still, waiting for me.
For one strange second, I studied him through the veil.
He was taller than I remembered Holland being.
That thought barely registered before I dismissed it.
Maybe it was the angle.
Maybe the altar platform made him appear taller.
Maybe my nerves were simply making everything seem different.
His shoulders were broad beneath the dark fabric of his suit.
His posture was unnaturally straight, almost rigid.
One hand rested at his side while the other remained hidden from my view.
I couldn’t see his face clearly enough to make out his features.
That was fine.
I didn’t need to see his face.
I already knew who he was supposed to be.
Holland Burke.
Raven City’s beloved second son.
The perfect Burke everyone wished would inherit the family.
Charming, polished, handsome, and, most importantly, the man I was about to steal from my sister.
My future husband.
My victory prize.
The priest opened his book and cleared his throat.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest began, his voice echoing through the sound system.
“We are gathered here today in Raven City to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” My heart hammered in my chest.
This was it.
I had imagined this moment so many times since the idea formed in my head that I had practically memorized every second of it.
The veil.
The vows.
The scandal.
By the time everyone realized what I had done, it would already be too late.
“Do you, Miss Knox,” the priest asked, looking at me, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?” “I do,” I said, disguising my voice into a soft, airy whisper.
“And do you, Mr.
Burke,” the priest turned to the groom, “take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to honor all the days of your life?” A brief silence hung in the air.
The man beside me didn’t move, but for some reason, that tiny pause made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Then a low, smooth voice answered, “I do.” Something about the voice felt unfamiliar.
Deep.
Controlled.
Nothing like the lighter, warmer voice I associated with Holland.
My brows almost pulled together beneath the veil.
Almost.
I quickly pushed the thought away.
“By the power vested in me by the Alliance, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest declared with a warm smile.
“You may kiss your bride.” Wait.
A kiss?
I hadn’t planned for this part.
My mind raced.
Fine.
A quick peck on the cheek or lips won’t kill me.
It seals the contract.
Holland Burke will be officially stuck with me.
The groom reached out.
His hands held the edges of my veil.
Slowly, he lifted the white fabric over my head and tossed it back.
The veil slipped away from my face.
For a moment, all I saw was light.
The chandeliers overhead were painfully bright after the dimness beneath the fabric.
I blinked once.
Twice.
Then my eyes adjusted.
Putting on a shy smile to mimic Kristen, I raised my eyes to look at my new husband.
First, I noticed his jaw.
Strong.
Sharp.
It didn’t look like the image of Holland that I vaguely remembered.
My gaze travelled upward.
A straight nose.
Razor-sharp cheekbones.
Dark hair that had been neatly styled but still looked slightly untamed around the edges.
Then I reached his eyes.
Cold.
Black.
Unmoving.
My smile instantly died.
My breath hitched in my throat.
I knew those eyes.
Everyone in Raven City knew those eyes, along with the face they belonged to.
The man standing in front of me was not Holland Burke.
It was Dylan Burke—the eldest son and heir of the Burke family.
Not Holland.
Not Raven City’s Perfect Son.
His older brother.
The notorious Apex Hunter of Raven City.
The man who had single-handedly terrified over a hundred prospective noble suitors, both brides and grooms, into running for the hills.
My brain short-circuited.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FLIP?!
my internal voice screamed, practically bouncing off the walls of my skull.
WHO INVITED THIS GUY?!
WHERE IS HOLLAND?!
WHY IS DYLAN STANDING AT THE ALTAR?!
DOES THIS MEAN I JUST MARRIED DYLAN BURKE?!
SOMEBODY HELP ME!
THIS IS NOT HOLLAND!
THIS IS NOT THE PLAN!
THIS WASN’T THE PLAN!!!
Outwardly, my body turned into a stone statue.
I couldn’t move a muscle.
I couldn’t even blink.
Dylan stared down at me.
His eyes scanned my face, locking onto mine.
For a fraction of a second, his brow twitched, the only sign that he was just as surprised to see me under the veil as I was to see him.
Before I could process what was happening, Dylan stepped closer.
He placed one hand on the small of my back, pulled me toward his chest, and bent his head down.
His lips pressed against mine.
The kiss was soft, cool, and lasted two whole seconds before he pulled back slowly, his gaze holding mine.
“Hello, wife,” Dylan murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
That two-word sentence shattered my paralysis.
My eyes went wide.
“You—” BANG!
The double doors at the back of the chapel slammed open, hitting the walls with a sound like a gunshot.
“STOP THE WEDDING!” a screech echoed through the venue, raw and hysterical.