Chapter 2

Odette put on my wedding shoes and lifted a foot to admire them, unable to hide her smile.

“Lucien, even the size is perfect.” She playfully turned her ankle. “Did you know all along that these would look better on me?”

Lucien had made those shoes himself.

When he was twenty, he’d gone to an old shoemaker’s workshop to learn how to cut leather and stitch shoes. He’d sewn each pearl onto the white satin by hand.

He’d pricked his fingers with the needle many times making them.

But he’d only hidden his hands behind his back. “Ines, it doesn’t hurt. You’ll wear these when we get married.”

“I want you wearing something I made with my own hands from the moment you step into the church.”

He’d said, “I’ll make sure you never have to envy anyone else’s wedding.”

Back then, Lucien really had been good to me.

He couldn’t stand to see me frown. If I looked at something a little longer than usual, he’d bring it to me the next day.

But everything had changed after Odette appeared.

When I snapped out of the memory, Lucien had already slipped the old canvas shoes onto my feet.

The stiff, curled lining scraped my heels. It hurt.

A few bridesmaids who had no idea what was happening held up their phones and laughed. “Kiss her! Come on, Lucien, kiss your bride!”

With everyone urging him on, Lucien leaned down to kiss me.

Just then, Odette suddenly lost her footing and fell into his arms.

She grabbed his bow tie and pulled him toward her.

Their lips met.

The room went silent.

Dalia’s expression tightened with anger. “Odette, did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry. My ankle hurt so much, I couldn’t stay on my feet...”

“With all these people in the room, his bow tie was the only thing you could grab?”

“Enough.” Lucien steadied Odette, his expression darkening.

“She hurt her ankle. Didn’t you see?”

“Besides...” He looked at Dalia, his voice turning colder.

“Our lips barely touched. Do you have to make such an ugly scene today?”

“You call that barely—”

Dalia was about to curse at him. I pressed a hand over hers.

Over the past two years, he’d brushed off far too much with the word “just.”

Last year, Odette had put her name on the port operations plan I’d spent three months working on. He’d said it was just a name on a document.

Six months ago, she’d forced her way into our anniversary dinner. He’d said it was just one more place setting.

Last month, she’d ignored my repeated warnings and fed my cat so much chocolate that it died on the table at the emergency clinic. He’d said it was just an accident.

Every time, Lucien had told me not to give her a hard time.

This time, there really was no point in arguing anymore.

In the middle of the standoff, Mrs. Soranzo walked in with a glass of sweet wine.

“Ines, I’ve waited so long to see you in a wedding dress.”

She held the glass to my lips. “Have a sip, sweetheart. To your wedding day.”

I stared at the tiny bubbles around the rim, dazed for a moment.

My parents had died when I was twelve, and Mr. and Mrs. Soranzo had become my guardians. For more than a decade, I’d thought of this place as home.

Now the two people I trusted most were working together to drug me and send me off to marry an old man.

I knew that once I drank the wine, they’d feel safe putting me in the car.

I took the glass anyway and swallowed.

Someone downstairs knocked on the door. “The convoy’s ready. Time to leave.”

Lucien lifted me onto his back and carried me down the stairs, one step at a time.