Chapter 2

The scent of expensive champagne still hung thick in the air, mocking me.

Sebastian walked off the stage. He looked perfectly composed, casually adjusting his bowtie with the air of a benevolent king who had just performed a great act of charity.

He stopped in front of me, his eyes sweeping over my pale face with mild annoyance.

"Clara, don't look at me like that," he sighed, his voice dropping to a patronizing whisper. "Celeste’s modeling career took a hit recently. She’s suffered for fourteen years, and Lily needs her real mother now."

I stared at the man I had secretly married. "You told me she was dead. For fourteen years, you told me she died in labor."

"I did it to protect you." He looked at me with a sickeningly hollow tenderness. "You always wanted to be a mother. I let you experience raising a child for fourteen years. You should be thanking me, Clara. Don't ruin it by being hysterical now."

Experience raising a child.

He had packaged my blood, sweat, and youth as a favor he had done for me.

Celeste approached, clinging weakly to Sebastian's arm. Her eyes were rimmed with staged, perfectly applied tears.

She looked down at the pure white couture gown she was wearing—my gown. Her manicured fingers carelessly traced the jagged tear she had made in the pearl collar I had hand-stitched.

"Clara, I hope you don't mind I cut the neckline," Celeste said softly, her voice dripping with venomous innocence. "It was just a bit... stiff and outdated. But I never intended to take your place. I just missed my daughter. Thank you so much for babysitting her for me."

Babysitting.

That word felt like a poisoned blade twisting in my gut.

Lily stood behind her, glaring at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes.

"Don't be mad at Aunt Clara, Lily," Celeste coaxed gently, stroking Lily's hair. "She was just lonely."

"I am mad!" Lily snapped, stepping forward. "Mommy told me you hid all the letters she sent me for fourteen years. You knew she was alive, but you wouldn't let us meet!"

My body went completely rigid. Sebastian hadn't just brought Celeste back; they had systematically brainwashed the daughter I raised, turning my fourteen years of maternal devotion into a sick, jealous obsession.

I looked at Lily. The urge to explain, to beg her to remember who stayed up with her during her asthma attacks, died in my throat.

"Lily," I said, my voice eerily calm, "if you believe I am a monster, then go ahead and believe it."

Lily shrank back as if I had hit her, retreating instantly into Celeste’s protective embrace.

Sebastian clicked his tongue in disapproval. He pulled a thick folder from his assistant and tossed it onto the table between us. It landed with a heavy slap.

"The commitment ceremony is in a month," he said, his tone as casual as giving a chore to a servant. "Celeste wants a perfect wedding. You know the Veil estate and bridal wear better than anyone. You’re in charge of the planning."

He was certain I would agree. He was absolutely certain that as long as he dangled Lily in front of me, I would crawl back, swallow my pride, and serve them like a loyal dog.

I looked at the wedding proposal. The names "Sebastian" and "Celeste" were printed in a mocking, elegant gold font.

I didn't scream. I didn't throw the folder at his face.

Instead, I looked up and met Sebastian’s smug, arrogant eyes. I smiled.

"Fine."

My voice was terrifyingly steady.

"I’ll handle the wedding."

Since you two want to play this drama to the end, I will personally build the grandest stage for you.

I only hope that when I drop the guillotine, you won't be crushed by the weight of your own audience.