The world tilted the moment Alira saw the empty bedroom.
Her sister's wedding gown—pure ivory silk with hand-stitched pearls—hung lifelessly on the wardrobe door, its bodice unzipped, its train spread across the floor like a fallen promise. But the woman who was supposed to wear it was nowhere in sight.
"Kaira?" Alira whispered as she stepped inside. Her voice trembled in the heavy silence.
No answer.
A cold prickle traveled down her spine. It was the morning before the wedding. Their mother had been awake since dawn, instructing florists, checking guest lists, and fussing over every petal and ribbon. The mansion buzzed with voices, music, and the scent of fresh flowers. Everything was perfect.
Except the bride had vanished.
"Kaira, this isn't funny." Alira forced a laugh that didn't reach her eyes. She checked the bathroom, the balcony, even under the bed as if her older sister might pop out and squeal that it was all a prank.
Nothing.
She spotted a single suitcase missing from the closet. And on the vanity table, in Kaira's looping handwriting, lay a small folded note.
Alira's knees felt weak.
She snatched the paper, hands shaking.
I'm sorry. I can't do it. Don't look for me.
That was all. No explanation. No destination. No promise of return.
For a long moment, Alira forgot how to breathe.
"Kaira… what did you do?"
The door burst open behind her. Their mother's frantic voice filled the room. "Alira? Alira, is your sister in—"
She froze. Her eyes flicked over the empty room and instantly sharpened.
"What happened?"
Alira opened her mouth—then closed it again. Her throat felt tight.
She lifted the note with trembling fingers.
Her mother snatched it, read it once, and went white. "No," she breathed. Then louder, almost a shriek, "No, no, no, she can't! Does she understand what she's done? Does she have any idea who she is betraying?"
Alira swallowed hard. She knew exactly who her sister was supposed to marry.
Damon Vargaz.
The most feared man in the city. A mafia prince with a reputation as lethal as the empire he commanded. Their family had secured the alliance through Kaira. It was meant to bring protection, power, and stability. Backing out was impossible.
Backing out meant death.
"Mother—"
"Find her," her mother snapped. "Call her friends. Check her social media. She must not be far. She would never abandon—" Her voice cracked. "She wouldn't do this to us."
But she already had.
Alira looked around the room again—at the half-packed makeup bag, the missing suitcase, the unlocked window. Kaira had planned this. Carefully. Quietly.
And she wasn't coming back.
"Mom," Alira whispered, "we don't have time."
Her mother stiffened. Outside, the wedding coordinator was shouting orders. Florists carried bouquets through the hall. Guests were already arriving from out of town.
The ceremony was tomorrow. Damon's men—armed, stone-faced, and loyal—were already stationed throughout the estate to oversee preparations.
"We can't hide this," her mother whispered in horror. "The Vargaz family will destroy us."
Alira's pulse hammered painfully in her ears. "We could tell them she got sick—"
"Sick?" Her mother whirled on her. "Damon Vargaz is not a man you lie to. He finds out everything. Everything, Alira!"
Her voice lowered, trembling. "If he believes we deceived him… he will burn this house to the ground."
Silence.
The air suddenly tasted metallic.
Voices carried from downstairs—deep, male, dangerous. Damon's men. Alira had seen only glimpses of them yesterday, and even those glimpses were enough to make her blood freeze.
"I'll talk to the wedding planner," her mother muttered, pacing. "I'll ask for more time. I'll—"
A loud knock on the door cut her off.
Three sharp, imposing raps.
Alira's heart jumped into her throat.
Her mother opened the door to reveal one of Damon's bodyguards—broad-shouldered, expressionless. He didn't bother with greetings.
"Mr. Vargaz is arriving this afternoon," he said. "He wants to review final arrangements with the bride."
The bride.
Alira felt her stomach drop to the floor.
Her mother's voice was so steady it terrified Alira. "Of course. Everything is ready."
The guard nodded once, then walked away.
The moment he disappeared, her mother slammed the door shut.
"We're doomed," she whispered.
Alira stepped toward her slowly, placing a hand on her arm. "Mom… we'll find a way."
Her mother stared at her for a long moment—studying her face, her posture, her innocence. Then something flickered in her gaze.
A decision.
"Alira," she said softly, "you have to take her place."
The words hit like a punch.
"What?"
"Just until we find Kaira!" her mother insisted. "Just until tomorrow. Stand at the altar, say the vows, and we'll—"
"Mother!" Alira's voice cracked. "Damon will know I'm not Kaira the moment he looks at me!"
"No, he won't." Her mother grabbed her shoulders. "You two look enough alike. And he's only met Kaira twice—briefly, with a veil covering half her face."
Alira shook her head violently. "I can't—"
"You can," her mother said, her tone turning steel. "If you don't, we lose everything. Our company, our home, our lives. Damon Vargaz will not forgive this humiliation."
Alira felt like the walls were closing in.
She had always lived in Kaira's shadow—the beautiful daughter, the confident one, the one chosen for the alliance that would protect their family. Alira was the quiet one, the careful one, the girl who preferred libraries over lavish galas.
And now she was being asked to marry a monster.
"Please," her mother whispered, voice breaking. "I can't lose you both. Not you too."
The desperation in her eyes was unmistakable. She wasn't asking. She was begging.
Alira's breath trembled.
Her life would end the moment Damon learned the truth—but her family's life might end if she refused.
She closed her eyes.
"I'll do it," she whispered.
Her mother collapsed against her with a sob of relief.
Alira stood rigid, staring at her reflection in the mirror behind her mother's shoulder. The girl looking back at her seemed like a stranger—pale, terrified, trapped.
"Good," her mother said, already moving, already planning. "We don't have much time. We'll adjust the gown. Fix your hair. Train you to speak like her."
Alira heard all of it as if through water.
Tomorrow, she would stand at an altar beside a man feared by everyone.
Tomorrow, she would vow to be his wife.