Sophia barely slept. Curled on the guest room floor—Ethan had "claimed" the master with Lila's perfume stench wafting—she replayed the betrayal in loops. Six years of blind faith, crumbled in one moan-filled glimpse. Her phone buzzed nonstop: Wedding reminders, vendor confirmations, a cryptic text from her oncologist: Trial slots open. Zurich clinic confirms. Vanderbilt jet fueled.
But first: the farce. Morning light pierced the penthouse like accusatory fingers. Sophia dragged herself up, nausea churning—cancer meds or heartbreak? Makeup masked the hollow eyes; the gown zipped like a coffin shroud. One day. One wish. Then freedom.
Ethan sauntered in at dawn, reeking of sex, Lila draped on his arm in a slutty robe. "Morning, wifey-to-be. Coffee?"
Lila smirked, sipping from Sophia's mug. "Don't puke on the dress, sis. Ruins the aesthetic."
Sophia forced steel. "Vows at noon. Be there."
Ethan chuckled. "Wouldn't miss it. Big investors coming—your 'tragic glow' sells sympathy."
She fled to the limo, heart hammering. The chapel loomed: Gothic spires mocking eternity. Guests milled—200 strong: Ethan's board, venture capitalists eyeing Blackwood Tech's IPO, socialites Lila invited for clout. No one from Sophia's "past"—she'd isolated herself for him.
In the bridal suite, stylist fussed. Mirror lied: She looked ethereal, veil cascading. Flashback hit: Year one, Ethan jobless; she'd pawned her mother's pearls (Vanderbilt emeralds incognito) for his rent. Year three, startup crash; she sewed 72 hours straight, collapsing feverish, whispering vows in her sleep. Year five, cancer shadow; she'd hidden scans, smiling through chemo nausea to cheer his wins.
For this?
Organ swelled. She walked alone—bridesmaids bailed last-minute, "sick." Aisle endless, Ethan's gaze cold amusement. Lila front row, crimson dress screaming mistress.
He took her hand—clammy. Officiant droned: "Dearly beloved..."
Ethan's vows: "Sophia, you've been... supportive." Snicker from Lila. "I promise to... build our future." Lie dripped.
Hers: "Ethan, I've given everything—my heart, soul. Till death." Truth, laced venom.
Rings exchanged. His: Gold band, cheap knockoff. Hers: Family antique (hidden Vanderbilt sapphire).
Kiss: Mechanical peck. Guests clapped—cameras flashed for Ethan's PR.
Reception tent glittered: Caviar towers, string quartet. Toasts flowed.
"Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood!" Board chair raised glass. "To skyrocketing success!"
Ethan preened, arm around Sophia. Whispers to her: "Smile, puppet. Investors love the Cinderella story."
Lila cornered her at the cake—seven tiers, her design. "Enjoy it, step-sis. Tomorrow? Divorce papers. Ethan's mine."
Sophia whispered, "Karma's swift."
Champagne flute in hand, she danced with Ethan—stiff waltz. His breath: Whiskey-Lila mix. "One night. Then poof."
Nausea peaked. Time.
Mid-dance, gasp escaped. Clutch stubbed into thigh—staged poison vial, odorless sedative. Vision blurred theatrically. "Ethan... betrayed... she poisoned..."
Collapse into his arms. Chaos erupted.
"Sophia!" Fake wail.
Ambulance sirens wailed. Guests panicked: "Heart attack?" "Drugs?"
Hospital: Curtains drew. "Toxins," doctors lied per script. Sophia "flatlined"—staged with Vanderbilt-hired actors.
Ethan outside, tears crocodile: "My bride! Hold on!"
News vans swarmed by dawn. Tragic Wedding Day Death: Blackwood Heiress Sophia Hale Poisoned?
Obit drafted: Sophia Hale Blackwood, 28, devoted wife... gone too soon.
Ethan inherited: $2M decoy accounts, penthouse deed (hers secretly revoked). Press conference: "Devastated. She was everything."
Lila hugged him cameras: "Strength, love."
But in a private wing, Sophia stirred. IVs real—chemo boost. Masked nurse: "Miss Vanderbilt, jet in 30. Zurich awaits."
She texted handler: All assets frozen. Blackwood stock—short it.
Limo to airstrip. Gown discarded like skin. Reflection: No more victim.
Ethan's phone buzzed mid-celebratory fuck with Lila: Inheritance glitch?
Too late.
Sophia boarded the jet, champagne real this time. "To rebirth."
Zurich lights approached. Cancer? Cured soon. Revenge? Brewing.
But Ethan's grief call came: Voicemail. "Sophia... if you're out there... come back."
Liar.