The photograph trembles in Ethan's hand, him and Valentina tangled in sheets, a secret I wasn't meant to see. The cathedral's silence is deafening, hundreds of eyes boring into me. My heart stops, then shatters. I look past Ethan, to the front row where Valentina stands, her crimson dress like a wound. She's not shocked, she's smirking, her arms crossed, like she's won. Ethan steps toward her, and they embrace behind the choir, right there in front of everyone. My world collapses.
I rip off my veil, the fabric tearing in my hands. "No," I say, my voice shaking but loud. The crowd gasps, but I don't care. I turn to the guests, my fists clenched. "I will not be your victim!" My words echo off the vaulted arches, sharp and raw. Ethan's face pales, and Valentina's smirk falters, but I'm done. I storm down the aisle, my gown trailing behind me like a broken promise. Whispers explode around me, but I keep moving, my heels slamming against the marble.
Clara's at my side in an instant, her hand on my arm. "Sienna, wait," she says, her voice urgent. "Let's get you out of here."
I shake her off, my eyes burning. "Don't. I need to do this." I push through the double doors, the organ music cutting off as they slam shut. The cathedral steps are a blur, but the flashbulbs hit me like a swarm, cameras clicking, reporters shouting my name. "Miss Alverez! What happened? Is the wedding off?" I shield my face, my breath hitching. The crowd's a wall of noise, slicing me open with every word.
Security guards in black suits appear, shoving through the mob. "This way, Miss Alverez," one says, grabbing my elbow. I yank free, but another guard blocks my path, guiding me toward a side exit. "For your safety, ma'am." I want to scream, but my voice is gone. They hustle me down a narrow alley, the flashes fading but the shame clinging like damp air.
We reach a black SUV parked behind the cathedral. Clara's still with me, her face tight with worry. "Sienna, talk to me," she says, opening the door. "What do you need?"
I slide into the backseat, my gown bunching around me. "I need to be alone," I snap, harsher than I mean. Her eyes soften, but she nods and steps back. The door shuts, and the SUV pulls away, the city blurring past the tinted windows. My hands shake as I rip the pins from my hair, letting it fall in messy waves. Everything I valued, love, family, duty, lies in pieces. Ethan's betrayal, Valentina's smug face, Father's cold silence. I trusted them, and they broke me.
My phone buzzes in my clutch. I pull it out, hands trembling. A text from Father: You've humiliated us. Fix this. My throat burns. Fix this? He didn't stop them. He didn't stand up for me. I delete the message, my fingers clumsy. I'm done fixing their messes.
The SUV stops at a hotel, one of Father's properties. The driver opens my door, but I don't move. "Why here?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
"Mr. Alverez's orders," he says, not meeting my eyes. "You're to stay until he arrives."
I laugh, bitter and sharp. "Of course." I step out, my gown catching on the door. The lobby's marble gleams, chandeliers sparkling above, but it feels like a cage. A concierge rushes over, her smile forced. "Miss Alverez, we have a suite ready. This way, please."
I follow, my head high despite the stares from guests. They whisper, their phones already out, snapping pictures. I want to disappear, but I won't give them the satisfaction. In the elevator, the concierge hands me a keycard. "Top floor," she says. "Security's posted outside."
"Great," I mutter, taking the card. The doors open, and I step into the suite, plush carpets, a bar stocked with crystal bottles, a view of Velancia's skyline. It's perfect, and I hate it. I kick off my heels and collapse onto the couch, my gown pooling around me. The silence is worse than the crowd's roar, letting every moment replay, Ethan's cold eyes, Valentina's arms around him, the photograph.
I grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar, pour a glass, and down it in one gulp. It burns, but it's better than feeling nothing. My phone buzzes again, Clara: I'm downstairs. Let me in. I hesitate, then text back: Not now. I'll call you later. I can't face her, not when I'm this raw.
A knock at the door makes me jump. I set the glass down, my heart racing. "Who is it?" I call, my voice unsteady.
"Room service," a man's voice says. I frown, I didn't order anything, but I open the door. A waiter in a crisp uniform stands there, holding a tray with a single rose and a note. "Compliments of a guest," he says, handing me the note before leaving.
I shut the door, my hands shaking as I open the envelope. The handwriting is sharp, unfamiliar: You deserve better, Sienna. If you want revenge, I can help. – D.M. I stare at the initials. D.M., Damien Marcello? The billionaire who's been circling Alverez Corp, the one Father calls a vulture. My pulse quickens. Why would he care? I toss the note on the table, but it lingers in my mind. Revenge. The word feels dangerous, tempting.
I pour another drink, but before I can sip, my phone rings, Valentina. My blood boils. I answer, my voice ice. "What do you want?"
"Sienna, I'm so sorry," she says, her voice dripping with fake tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Ethan and I… it just, "
"Stop," I cut her off, my hand trembling. "You planned this. I saw your face. You wanted me to break."
She's quiet for a moment, then laughs, cold and sharp. "You always thought you were better, Sienna. Perfect heiress, Father's favorite. Now you know how it feels to lose."
I slam the phone down, my breath ragged. She's not sorry, she's gloating. I want to scream, to tear this room apart, but I force myself to breathe. I won't let her win. I won't let any of them.
I'm pacing the suite when Clara texts again: I'm not leaving. Talk to me. I sigh, my anger softening. She's the only one who's been there, even if she's hiding something. I text back: Come up. I need you. Minutes later, she's at the door, her suit wrinkled, her eyes worried.
She hugs me tight, and I let myself lean into her. "I'm so sorry, Sienna," she says, pulling back. "I should've seen this coming. Valentina's been off for weeks."
"It's not your fault," I say, my voice cracking. "I trusted them. That's on me." I sit on the couch, and she joins me, her hands clasped.
"There's something else," she says, her voice low. "I found documents, your mother's will. It says you're the majority shareholder of Alverez Corp. Ricardo's been hiding it."
I stare at her, my mind reeling. "What? That can't be right. Father controls everything."
"I'm still digging," she says, "but it's real. I need to get into his vault to confirm. Sienna, this changes everything."
Before I can reply, a sharp knock interrupts. Clara frowns, standing. "Who's that?"
I open the door, and Father's there, his face a mask of fury. His gray hair is disheveled, his cigar nowhere in sight. "Get in the limo," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Or forever be the disgrace of this house."