Sera's POV
I break the champagne glass in my hand.
In a sense, no. But that's how I feel when Adrian looks at me across the rehearsal dinner table. There's a problem. I can read him like my favorite book after six years together, and right now? There is danger on every page.
"Sera, honey, you're not eating." My foster mother Margaret is leaning in close, and I can smell her perfume. "You need your strength for tomorrow's big day."
Tomorrow. My wedding day. The day I've dreamed about since Adrian first said he loved me.
So why does he look like he's attending a funeral instead of enjoying our future?
"I'm fine," I lie, pushing around the expensive food on my plate. Everything tastes like cardboard tonight.
Vanessa giggles from her seat beside Adrian—wait, when did she move there?—and touches his arm. My stepsister looks beautiful as always, even though she's apparently dying from some rare heart condition. Funny how her makeup is perfect and her dress costs more than my car, but she's too sick to work or do anything except shop and cause problems.
"Adrian's been telling me about the honeymoon plans," Vanessa says, her voice dripping fake sweetness. "The Maldives sound absolutely dreamy."
My stomach twists. I haven't told Vanessa about our vacation. Which means Adrian did.
"Vanessa, take your medication," Richard—my adopted father—says sharply. He shoots me a look I can't read. "We don't want you getting overexcited."
Adrian's hand trembles as he lifts his water glass. He still won't look at me.
That's when I know. Whatever's coming, it's going to destroy me.
The dinner goes on forever. People make speeches about love and forever and happy ends. Adrian's best man tells awkward stories. My fake family smiles their fake smiles. And I sit there feeling like I'm watching my life from beneath, everything distant and wrong.
Finally, dessert ends. Guests start leaving. I'm helping stack plates when Adrian's voice cuts through the talk.
"Sera. We need to talk. Now. " Not "Can we talk? " Not "Do you have a minute?" Just an order that sounds like a death sentence.
I follow him into the empty hallway, my shoes clicking against marble floors. The restaurant's back hallway is quiet, private. The best place for secrets.
Adrian runs his hand through his dark hair. It's something he does when he's worried, but I've never seen him look this wrecked. His eyes are red. His expensive suit is wrinkled. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.
"Just say it," I breathe. "Whatever it is, just say it."
"I can't marry you tomorrow."
Five words. Five easy words that feel like a knife straight through my heart.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything except stare at the man I love—loved?—while my world falls.
"What?" It comes out as a broken sound, barely human.
"It's Vanessa." Adrian won't meet my eyes now. He's looking at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but at me. " Her heart situation is getting worse. The doctors say she might only have three months left."
My brain tries to understand. "I'm sorry she's sick, but what does that have to do with—"
"Her dying wish is to get married." Adrian's voice cracks. "To experience a wedding before she... before she dies. And your parents asked me to—"
"No." The word bursts from me. "No. You're not saying what I think you're saying."
"It's temporary!" Adrian reaches for my hand, but I jerk away. "Just a few months. Just long enough to give her this one experience. Then after she... after she goes... we can get married properly. You and me, the wedding we planned, everything we wanted—"
"Are you INSANE?" I'm shaking now, my whole body quivering with shock and rage. "You want me to wait while you marry my stepsister? You want me to be okay with this?"
"I know it sounds crazy—"
"It IS crazy! This is crazy! We're supposed to get married TOMORROW, Adrian! I have a dress hanging in my room! We have three hundred guests coming! We have—" My voice breaks. "We have six years together. Six years of planning our future. And you want to throw that away for—for what? For Vanessa's death wish?"
"She's your sister!"
"She's my STEPSISTER, and she's been awful to me since the day her parents adopted me!" Tears are running down my face now, hot and angry. "Don't you dare make me feel guilty for not wanting to give up my fiancé to her!"
Adrian's face twists with something—guilt? Pain? "I don't want this either. God, Sera, I LOVE you. Only you. But she's dying. How can I say no to a dying girl's last wish? What kind of person would I be?"
"What kind of person asks their fiancée to step aside?" I shoot back. "What kind of person makes this decision without even DISCUSSING it first?"
His quiet is deafening.
"You already said yes." The realization hits me like ice water. "You already agreed to this. That's why everyone's acting so weird. That's why Vanessa's been so happy. You agreed without even TALKING to me about it!"
"Your parents said you'd understand—"
"My parents? MY PARENTS were in on this?" The deception keeps getting worse, layer after layer. "Who else knows? Who else was planning my humiliation?"
Adrian looks sick. "The wedding is still tomorrow. Same time, same place, same people. Just... a different wife."
The world stops.
They're replacing me. Like I'm a broken toy they can just swap out for a better model. Like six years means nothing. Like I mean nothing. "Get out," I whisper.
"Sera, please—"
"GET OUT!" I scream it now, not caring who hears. "Get out before I do something we'll both regret!"
Adrian backs away, his face breaking. "I'm so sorry. I'll make this right. I swear I'll—"
But I'm already running. Running toward the exit, away from the restaurant, away from my destroyed future. I slam through the doors into the night air, gasping for breath.
That's when I see them.
Margaret and Richard. Vanessa. All three stood by the valet station, watching me. Waiting.
Vanessa's wearing my engagement ring.
The one Adrian gave me three years ago. The family heirloom from his grandma. The ring that was meant to mean forever.
She holds up her hand, letting the streetlight catch the diamond, and smiles.
"Thanks for understanding, sis," she calls out sweetly. "I promise I'll take good care of him."
Something inside me breaks. Not just breaks—shatters into a million pieces that can never be put back together.
And that's when my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: "Come to 47 Maple Street. Apartment 12B. It's time you learned the truth about who you really are—and what they did to steal it from you."