But I gritted my teeth, forcing the ache down. “I don’t care,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Tell them… tell them it was her. And so be it.”
And then—I smiled. I turned my eyes back to Helena, radiant as she reached the altar.
She was the one. She had always been the one. If I kept saying it, maybe it would be true.
The priest began his words. Guests leaned forward. Helena’s hand slipped into mine. My lips curved into the smile they expected.
“Do you, Dominic Blackwood, take Helena—”
The world blurred.
Her face flickered. It wasn’t Helena before me—it was Seraphina. Pale, trembling, her eyes wet with betrayal.
My chest convulsed. My mouth dried.
“I…” The word stuck in my throat.
Helena’s eyes widened. The room held its breath.
And then I tore my hand from hers. I stepped back, stumbling.
“No…” My voice broke, raw and hoarse. My gaze darted, searching for a ghost I could never find.
“No. Seraphina…”
Gasps rippled through the guests. Helena screamed, her voice sharp, hysterical. “Dominic! What are you doing?!”
But I was already running. Away from the altar, away from the wedding, away from Helena’s cries.
Only one name echoed in my chest, pounding against Adrian’s cursed heart.
“Seraphina…”