Elena sat quietly on the edge of the grand four-poster bed, still in her bridal suite, trying to grasp the reality: tomorrow, she would become a wife.
Mrs. Elena Waverly.
It sounded beautiful… but foreign.
The thought sent a strange chill down her spine. How did she even get here?
She had only met Derek two weeks ago. Two weeks. Just after her college graduation, Aunt Julia had insisted she attend a "celebration dinner," which turned out to be more of a silent business negotiation in disguise. Derek had been charming, handsome, poised, the kind of man every woman in town whispered about—the perfect bachelor. But behind the cologne and charisma, Elena couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something wasn't right.
They went on just one date.
One polite, formal dinner.
And before she could even make sense of it, Julia was calling in wedding designers and sending out invitations to what was quickly labeled "the society wedding of the year." She had tried to speak up, to protest even slightly, but all Julia had said was:
"Derek is a good man, Elena. You'll love him after marriage. Just trust me."
But that's the thing—Elena didn't trust her. Not fully. Not ever.
Still, the thought of leaving Julia's house—the place she had been trapped in for the last thirteen years—was tempting. Maybe marriage to a kind stranger was better than continued servitude to her aunt. Maybe she'd finally be free.
With a sigh, Elena fell backward into the mattress, her heart heavy. She stared blankly at the ornate ceiling until something caught her eye. A small, brown leather wallet lay on the armchair across the room. Derek's wallet.
He had come in briefly earlier to "check on her," one of those polite gestures she now realized had little warmth. He must have dropped it.
Without much thought, she slid into her satin nightgown robe, slipped on her slippers, and headed down the hall to return it. His suite was just across the corridor. She entered the password Derek had casually mentioned to her earlier.
The door clicked open.
The suite was dimly lit. No sign of Derek.
She stepped in cautiously, placed the wallet on the table near the entrance, and was about to leave—when she heard a laugh. A familiar one. A voice she could recognize in a crowd of thousands.
Olive.
Elena's best friend. No—her only friend. Thirteen years of shared secrets, whispered dreams, tears, and laughter. The one person she thought she could truly trust.
The laugh came again. Muffled… flirtatious.
With her heart racing, Elena crept quietly toward the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar. She peeped inside.
And her world stopped.
There they were.
Olive. Naked. Derek. Half-dressed. In bed. Together.
Elena felt the room spin around her. Her knees weakened, and she gripped the wall to stay standing. This couldn't be real.
She was about to pull away, to run—when she heard Olive speak.
"I still can't believe you're marrying her tomorrow. She doesn't even worth you."
Her voice dripped with venom.
Derek chuckled lazily.
"What do you mean? She's beautiful. Her family's name still carries some weight… mom approved her immediately."
"She's just a niece to Julia, not her daughter," Olive snapped. "She doesn't deserve you. Can't you just cancel the wedding and marry me instead?"
Elena's breath caught in her throat.
"I thought you were her best friend," Derek teased.
"Yeah, I am. But I can't keep watching her get everything," Olive hissed. "At school, guys always ran after her. At home, she played the innocent orphan. So annoying. I loved it when Julia and Ashley mistreated her and she'd come crying to me. I got to play savior. And now she's marrying you? That means she's free. That means her status would finally rise. I can't let that happen."
Derek raised a brow.
"So that's why you seduced me the day we met?"
"Obviously," Olive smirked. "Right in front of her. I even asked for your Instagram. She didn't say a word. Pathetic."
Derek laughed again.
"You're such a bad girl."
"And you love bad girls," she whispered, kissing him.
Elena was frozen. Betrayed didn't even begin to describe how she felt.
But then, just as she turned to leave, another bomb dropped.
"Don't worry about me marrying her," Derek said coldly. "It won't last long anyway."
Elena turned back. Her ears sharpened.
"What do you mean?" Olive asked.
"She'll be dead within a few days. Poison. That's the arrangement."
Poison.
Elena's legs gave out. She leaned against the wall, trembling.
"Julia wants her gone," Derek continued. "But she can't do it herself. Too much suspicion already. The engagement cleared her name, made it look like she cared. After the wedding, she dies—quietly. Discreetly. No questions asked. I get my contract. She gets her inheritance. Everyone wins."
"And what if someone investigates?" Olive asked.
"It'll look like a suicide. Julia will handle the fallout."
"You're actually going to kill her?"
"A contract is a contract, Olive."
"Fine. What good is she alive, anyway?" She giggles
Elena staggered out of the suite, her vision blurry with tears, her mind spiraling.
Twelve Hours Earlier…
She remembered the conversation from days ago. She had overheard Julia and Ashley in the kitchen:
"Mom, why would you let Elly marry Derek? That's Derek Waverly!"
"Calm down, Ashley. This wedding serves a purpose."
"What purpose?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
Now she knew. The purpose was her death.
Back in her room, Elena broke down. Her heart felt ripped apart—by betrayal, fear, and heartbreak.
Everything made sense now. Her parents had died in a plane crash when she was ten. All their wealth and estate had been left in her name, but as a minor, her legal guardian—Julia—took control.
Julia never loved her. She raised her like a burden. No outings. Regular starvation. Verbal abuse. And once Elena grew older and prettier than Ashley, the abuse turned physical. But she endured it all. Because she believed… maybe one day it'll all get better.
And now, she was about to be killed for the fortune that was hers.
Elena sat up slowly, wiped her tears, and looked around. She couldn't fight. But she could do one thing:
Run.
The next day…..
The hall was decorated in grandeur—crystal chandeliers, ivory silk drapes, and golden roses everywhere. Society's elite had taken their seats. The groom stood tall, handsome, expectant.
But the bride was nowhere to be found.
Olive, in full bridesmaid attire, rushed to Julia and whispered something urgently.
Julia's face went pale.
Derek joined them.
"Where is she?"
Julia stormed to the bridal suite.
"Didn't anyone realize she's been gone since morning?" she snapped.
"I did come earlier," Olive offered, holding up a small folded note. "She posted this on the door."
The note read:
"Don't bother coming in. I'll dress myself. It's my wedding."
The room was empty.
Panic set in. Derek demanded the hotel's CCTV footage.
There it was: Elena, wearing a green wool sweater, pants, and carrying a small suitcase, walking out around midnight. She taped the note to her door. She spoke to a staff member, who directed her to the back gate. Then she disappeared into the night.
Julia's face contorted in rage.
"She ran," Olive whispered, faking concern. "She left."
The wedding was cancelled. Word spread like wildfire:
The bride had vanished on her wedding day.
The ballroom, once glowing with chandeliers and the hopeful glitter of a wedding morning, now lay quiet—too quiet. The silence felt heavier than a storm.
Julia stood by the arched hallway, her manicured fingers clutching her phone as she watched the guests being subtly ushered out. Whispers had already begun swirling like perfume: The bride is missing. The bride has vanished.
Her jaw tightened. She turned sharply, locking eyes with Derek across the room. His tie hung loose, his usually flawless composure unraveling. Julia didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Derek," she called, her voice low but firm. "A word."
He followed her into a nearby alcove, away from curious eyes. Once they were alone, Julia didn't waste time.
"Did you do anything to her?" she asked, voice taut. "Say something? Threaten her? Touch her?"
Derek's brow furrowed. "What? No! Of course not." He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, now falling apart like everything else around him. "I checked on her in her suite last night. She seemed fine. Calm, even. Quiet as always. And she smiles."
Julia studied him, her eyes narrowing. He was either a brilliant liar… or just as clueless as she felt.
She turned on her heel and waved Olive over. The girl hesitated before approaching—face pale, fingers trembling as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You were the last one with her yesterday afternoon, weren't you?" Julia asked, cold and controlled.
"Yes... we talked," Olive replied. "She didn't say anything unusual. Just… wedding jitters, I thought."
"Did she seem tired ? Distant? Nervous?"
"She's always like that," Olive replied quickly. Too quickly.
Julia looked between the two of them. Neither seemed to know a thing. Or they were both hiding something, she thought. Her lips tightened.
"Elena wouldn't just vanish." She muttered mostly to herself, her voice almost aching. "She's… fragile. Obedient. Always doing what she's told."
A beat of silence passed.
Then, a flicker of something shifted in Julia's expression. Her brows lifted ever so slightly. But maybe… not anymore.
"…Or maybe," she whispered, almost in awe, "she finally grew a spine."
Derek looked at her, stunned.
"You don't think she—"
"I don't know what I think," Julia cut in, now staring out the window as the sun rose defiantly over the chaos. "But maybe this isn't a disaster. Maybe, just maybe… it's for the best." She smirk "let's see how long she'll last in the wild."
She didn't know what had broken Elena—but perhaps, for the first time in her life, Elena had finally figured out how to fix herself.