Chapter 3

"One's antique jewelry, the other's a cheap silver ring—you could tell them apart with your eyes closed, couldn't you?"

"Haven't you heard? That Don Savieri took a bullet and lost his mind. Word is he's tortured a few women to death. She must've been too scared to marry him, so she went and stole her cousin's husband on purpose."

"Exactly. One's marrying a man and waiting to die, the other becomes Mrs. Castelli—who wouldn't know which to pick?"

"Could Damian really be that confused? The two young ladies don't even have the same figure, and Miss Roca was his girlfriend. How could he mix them up?"

"Maybe he did it on purpose…"

Damian's face changed.

I knew what he was afraid of—that Lydia would feel humiliated, the way she had in my last life, and swallow pills.

He shoved Lydia behind him and looked at me coldly: "Enough, Vivian. Whatever the reason, it's done. Lydia is my wife now. What do you want?"

I lifted my head and looked at him.

"I want you to admit to everyone that you cheated on me with Lydia, that you deliberately went against your mother's decision, that you deliberately had this wedding change brides. The two of you broke the engagement."

"Do you dare admit it?"

He said nothing.

Lydia was crying so hard her eyes were red. She rushed over and grabbed my hand to explain: "I didn't mean to. Vivian, Damian and I have already finished the ceremony. Just let us have it—otherwise how am I supposed to show my face ever again?"

A sharp crack—I slapped her across the face.

Ten years of fire went into that one blow.

Her head snapped to the side. She covered her cheek, stunned.

"You stole my ring, you stole my wedding, and now you're using your own pitiful little act to force me to let you have it?"

"You can't show your face? What about me? An engagement our families set when we were children, quietly swapped out by someone who lived off my family for nineteen years without paying a cent. If this gets out, what does that make me—Vivian Roca?"

"You had the nerve to steal your cousin's boyfriend and swap rings to steal a wedding—so why don't you have the nerve to let people know?"

Damian frowned and started to speak.

I cut him off.

"Don't play innocent either. I know you betrayed me and got together with her long ago, and the two of you planned this whole bride-swap together."

"This engagement was your family, the Castellis, backing out—you owe me!"

Lydia's face went white.

She shrank into Damian's arms: "Damian, what do we do? I've already said the vows with you. I can't marry anyone else now."

"If you don't want me, I might as well die. I won't marry anyone else anyway."

She sobbed in his arms without stopping.

Damian looked at me hatefully: "Vivian, don't push it."

I lifted my chin and stared right back.

I wasn't the one in the wrong. What did I have to be afraid of?

That was when my mother arrived.

She rushed in, yanked me aside, and scolded me sharply: "Vivian, Lydia and Damian have already finished the vows. They're truly husband and wife. You're sisters either way—why can't you just let her have this?"

I looked at her, disappointed.

In this life, she was still the same. Only Lydia in her heart and eyes.

Whatever last hope I'd had for her shattered completely in that moment.

"Sisters?"

"Mom, I remember you giving birth to one daughter. Just me."

"Lydia and I aren't real sisters, and we don't even share a surname. This engagement was arranged for me by Mrs. Castelli. Why should I give it up to a Valentí?"

She scolded me furiously:

"Enough, Vivian. How can you be so selfish? Her parents are both dead. So what if I love her a little more?"

"You're the Rocas' only true daughter. Whoever you marry, you'll be fine. She's different. She needs a man who can give her happiness."

"Damian is willing to marry her. They truly love each other. Why can't you just let them have it?"