Chapter 6 - The Morning of the End
The morning of the wedding was a flurry of hairspray, white flowers, and nervous energy.
I sat in the bridal suite of the Plaza Hotel, staring at myself in the mirror. I had pushed myself to the absolute limit. I could walk. It was a slow, painful walk, but I would not roll down the aisle in a chair.
I was going to stand tall when I burned their world to the ground.
Sloane walked into the suite, holding the garment bag containing my grandmother's custom ivory silk gown.
"It's time to get dressed, Lena," she said, her voice overly sweet.
She unzipped the bag.
But it wasn't the ivory silk gown.
It was a cheap, synthetic white dress from a department store.
Sloane gasped, dropping the bag. "Oh my god! Elena, the dress! The dry cleaner must have switched it!"
She was a terrible actress. I knew exactly what had happened. Sloane had destroyed the real dress, jealous and petty to the very end, wanting to ruin my moment of beauty.
"Oh no," I said, keeping my face perfectly blank. "Whatever shall I do?"
Sloane faked a look of pity. "You can't wear this. It's ruined. We might have to delay the ceremony."
She wanted me to cry. She wanted me to break down.
Instead, a sharp knock echoed on the suite door.
A bellhop entered, pushing a rolling rack. Hanging from it was a gown that defied imagination. It was spun from Italian silk, encrusted with thousands of microscopic diamonds that caught the light like falling stars.
It made my original dress look like a rag.
"Delivery for Miss Mercer," the bellhop said. "From Mr. Julian Vance. The note says: 'For my Queen.'"
Sloane’s jaw hit the floor. Her face twisted into an ugly mask of pure envy. "Julian Vance? Why is a billionaire buying you a wedding dress?"
I stood up from my vanity chair, ignoring the pain in my legs. I walked right up to Sloane, towering over her.
"Because Julian appreciates fine things," I whispered coldly. "And unlike Derek, he can actually afford them."
I snatched the dress from the rack. "Now get out, Sloane. You have to go take your seat. You wouldn't want to miss the show."
Sloane stumbled backward, terrified by the ice in my eyes. She practically ran from the room.
I slipped into the diamond gown. It fit like a second skin.
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I looked in the mirror one last time.
I was not a bride. I was an executioner.
