I Did It Again.
3: 3: Oops!
I Did It Again.
The entire chapel gasped as one body.
Everyone turned toward the entrance.
Kristen stood in the doorway, panting heavily.
Her neat hair was a wild, tangled mess.
Her makeup was smeared across her cheeks in black streaks, and she was wearing nothing but a crumpled bathrobe covering her inner dress.
She was barefoot, her toes covered in dust from running down the hotel hallways.
“She’s a fake!” Kristen screamed, pointing a trembling finger down the aisle.
“That’s not me!
She locked me in the closet!” The chapel erupted into chaos when everyone realized I was, in fact, not Kristen.
Flashbulbs started firing like machine guns.
Reporters jumped out of their seats, shoved their cameras into the air, and began shouting questions into their microphones.
“IS THAT KRISTEN KNOX AT THE DOOR?!” “WHO IS STANDING AT THE ALTAR?!” “OH MY GOSH!
THAT’S STELLA KNOX!” “IS THAT STELLA KNOX IN THE WEDDING DRESS?!” “WHY IS STELLA THE BRIDE AND KRISTEN THE…
WHAT IS SHE?
DID SHE COME OUT OF A BATTLEFIELD OR SOMETHING?” My stepmother sprang up from her seat, her designer purse falling to the floor.
Her face flushed a deep purple, and the veins on her neck stood out.
“Stella?!” Mrs.
Knox shrieked, her voice cracking with rage.
She marched toward the platform, her high heels clicking against the marble.
“What have you done?!
What is the meaning of this?!” My father stood up right behind her, his mouth hanging open as he stared at me as if I had grown a second head.
“Where is Holland?!” Mrs.
Knox shouted, turning her fury toward the Burke family sitting across the aisle.
“Why is Dylan standing up there in a tux?!
This was supposed to be Holland’s wedding!” Dylan’s mother, a stern woman draped in pearls, stood up and glared back at my stepmother.
“Don’t you yell at us!
Why is Kristen not on the altar?!
Why did your eldest daughter walk down the aisle under the veil to trick my son?!” “Because she locked me in the closet!” Kristen wailed, marching down the aisle in her torn bathrobe and pointing her finger right at my nose.
“She tricked me!
She tied my hands with curtain cords, shoved a napkin in my mouth, and locked the door from the outside!
She stole my wedding!” “You bound your sister and stuffed her in a closet?!” Mrs.
Knox bellowed, pointing a shaking finger directly at my face.
“You little psychopath!
You ruined everything!
This was supposed to be a perfect wedding!” I stood on the elevated altar, surrounded by the glittering pearl gown.
I looked down at my stepmother’s furious face, then at Kristen crying in her bathrobe, and finally at the dozens of media cameras capturing every second of the disaster live on national television.
A slow grin spread across my lips.
“It really is a picture-perfect wedding, isn’t it, Stepmother?” I said loudly, making sure my voice carried over the reporters.
“Just like you wanted.” My stepmother looked like she was about to have a stroke right there on the red carpet.
Her chest heaved, but no words came out.
I glanced over at the side pews.
My stepbrother, Kyle, was sitting near the end of the row.
When he caught my eye, he winked at me, though he quickly schooled his face back into a solemn expression the moment his mother glanced his way.
“You ruined everything!” Kristen screamed, tears running down her messy cheeks.
“You useless, insane brat!
You took my life!” “You can have the dress back if you want,” I offered sweetly, smoothing down the satin front.
“It’s a little tight around the ribs anyway.” On the other side of the altar, the Burke family looked like they were about to collapse.
Mr.
Burke was clutching his chest, while his wife frantically fanned herself with a ceremony program.
I turned to look at the man beside me.
My new husband.
Argh!
I’m not going to process that now.
Dylan hadn’t moved an inch.
He stood with his hands casually resting in his suit pockets, watching the circus unfold around us.
He didn’t even look angry, but his eyebrows were slightly raised.
He shot me a look that practically said, Really?
You had to pull a stunt like this?
I simply shrugged in response, the pearl dress shifting with the movement.
Hey, it worked, didn’t it?
The noise in the chapel grew louder as reporters flooded the centre aisle, shouting questions at the tops of their lungs.
“MISS KNOX!
DID YOU STEAL YOUR SISTER’S FIANCÉ OUT OF SPITE?!” “ARE YOU JEALOUS OF YOUR SISTER BECAUSE SHE IS THE HEIRESS AND YOU AREN’T?” “DO YOU HATE YOUR FAMILY?” “MR.
BURKE!
DID YOU KNOW IT WAS STELLA UNDER THE VEIL?!” “IS THE KNOX-BURKE ALLIANCE STILL VALID?!” I tuned them all out.
My mission was accomplished.
My stepmother’s precious reputation was in tatters, Kristen’s perfect image had been ruined on live television, and the Knox family would be the laughingstock of Raven City for the next decade.
Everything else was a bonus.
Now, all I cared about was whether the hotel was still serving free champagne at the reception.
I really needed a drink.
“The ceremony is finished,” Dylan said, his deep voice cutting through the noise in the chapel.
“Stella is my wife now.” “Over my dead body!” Mrs.
Knox shrieked.
“This marriage is invalid!
It’s a fraud!” “The priest said the words,” Dylan replied, reaching out and grabbing my wrist.
“The Alliance law recognizes the vow.
If you want a divorce, take it up with the High Council.” He turned and began pulling me toward the side exit behind the altar, ignoring the flashing cameras and screaming crowd.
“Wait!” I stumbled slightly in the huge gown, trying to keep up with his long stride.
“Where are we going?!” “Leaving,” he said.
“Can’t we stay for the reception?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder at the shouting matches breaking out in the centre aisle.
“I heard there was going to be an open bar, and I really think I earned a drink.” Dylan stopped at the exit door and looked down at me.
“You’re coming with me to Blackwood House,” he said.
♡´･ᴗ･`♡ Dylan led me outside, where a limousine was waiting at the curb.
I climbed inside first.
Dylan got in beside me, and the car pulled away from the hotel.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Dylan loosened his tie and sighed.
“After today, I think we both need a drink.” I immediately perked up.
“Finally.
Something we agree on.” He gave the driver an instruction, and less than twenty minutes later, a bottle of wine and two glasses were sitting between us.
I poured myself a generous glass.
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
“You drink?” “Of course I drink.” I lied.
I took a large sip.
The warmth spread through my chest almost immediately.
“Oh,” I murmured.
Dylan stared at me.
“You okay?” “Yup.” I took another sip.
Then another.
By the time I reached the bottom of the glass, the car seemed to be moving strangely, or perhaps the road was moving.
I blinked several times and leaned against the seat.
“Stella?” “I’m fine,” I mumbled.
Dylan reached for the glass before it slipped from my fingers.
“You’re a lightweight.” “I am not.” My head grew heavier.
I just needed to…
to what again?
Oh.
Sleep.
My eyes closed.
The last thing I heard was Dylan sighing.
“Definitely a lightweight.”