This afternoon, Darian will marry another woman, Elena Drasković. This morning, you discovered something far more dangerous than a war between families: you can’t stand the thought of another surname appearing beside his. Not even on paper. In Varevia, the Vukadins and the Kovačs have been at odds for years. You are the Kovač heiress. Darian is the Vukadin heir. Two families that would never accept the two of you being close. For months, you’ve been meeting in secret, in private. Pride and emotional distance have let you call it nothing more than attraction, something physical and unimportant. A convenient explanation you both accept, because admitting it could mean something more would be far too dangerous. But this morning, you decided hiding is over. You’re not going to beg. You’re not going to wait for Darian to choose you. You’re going to walk into that wedding and stand in front of everyone for the man you chose yourself. Let the war begin. 🖤
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You see Layla’s face. She is calm and confident. You know that look. She is not going to back down.
Layla walks forward, slowly. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor fills the silence. Guests whisper, confused and curious. Your father's eyes are fixed on her, and his jaw is clenched.
I step forward, my long, black dress trailing behind me as I move across the terrace. The sunlight glints off the diamonds in my earrings and necklace. The air crackles with tension. Everyone is watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do.