Married to my sister’s fiancée

Siena’s POV

Today is the worst day of my existence. Today, I am going to watch my sister, Elena, marry the man I loved.

Damien Lancaster didn’t know it yet, but from the first time I laid my eyes on him at a charity gala, I had fallen head over heels for him.

I quietly climbed the stairs, my heels clicking against the empty hallway, making it feel more like a deserted mansion rather than the venue of a wedding about to begin.

Grandmother had always considered the role of a bridesmaid tacky, and the only reason I was allowed to wear the dress was because I was “family.”

Elena didn’t deserve Damien Lancaster at all, and the only reason she was marrying him was because Grandmother said so.

Just last night at her wedding rehearsal, I caught her upstairs in bed with one of the male guests.

“You didn’t see anything.” She had told me before pulling up her dress and storming off like nothing had happened.

I let out a small sigh as I reached her door, but then, my hands froze on the door knob—something felt off.

I knocked, but there was no response, so I let myself in.

Although Elena was younger, she had an entire suite for her room. While I was left with nothing but a room the size of a sugar cube.

Elena was the trophy daughter, the true heiress of the Moreau family. And me? I was merely her shadow… “The charity case of the family,” as Grandmother would say.

You see, I was adopted into the Moreau Family. But that wasn’t the point at the moment. This wedding was.

“Elena?” I called, glancing around. For some unknown reason, she had always been very particular about me entering in here. The staff had more access than I did.

I gave another call. No response.

So I cautiously took another step deeper into the bedroom, and that’s when my eyes landed on the bed.

A sharp gasp escaped my mouth as my hands flew to my lips. Her wedding dress and bouquet laid carelessly on the bed as if it had been deliberately tossed.

In between the folds of the dress, my eyes caught sight of a small note. I picked it up, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“I can’t do this. Fix it.” I read, as if she knew I would be the one to come to come and get her. Because it had been my duty to fix her mess just like she had done in the past.

My heart skipped a beat as I felt my stomach twist into knots.

This was bad, really bad.

If my grandmother or the household found out, it would be a frenzy. Already, the Moreau family was already in a bad spot, we were on the brink of ruin and this marriage was the only thing that could save us.

What do I do? My mind reeled, darting my eyes throughout the room. Elena had escaped through the window.

Reckless.

I thought, squeezing the paper as my fingers curled into a fist.

At that moment, a thought crept into my head, one I wouldn’t have dared imagined.

Put on the dress. Marry Damien Lancaster.

It was crazy, but it would be a win. I would be marrying the man I loved. And no one would notice—I was always invisible. It would be too late when they do, because I would already be Mrs Lancaster.

Without thinking, I did the unimaginable. I took off this tacky bridesmaids dress, shoving it underneath the bed as I hastily put on the wedding dress, throwing the veil to shield my face.

It was a minimalist dress, not much of a hassle.

My heart pounded against my chest like a hammer as I rushed down the stairs, out of the mansion to our backyard were everyone patiently sat.

I let out a small sigh, my palms sweating and body trembling under the tension.

“You can do this, Siena.” I mumbled to myself, as if repeating it would make it true.

As I approached the aisle, a man’s voice rang out from the front. The guests rose to their feet and from the front, I could see Grandfather, Grandmother, and my stepmother smiling down at me.

It was the first time they did. But only this time, they didn’t know it wasn’t their trophy daughter, Elena.

I slightly bowed my head, feeling the weight of their gazes on me as I gently marched down the aisle, my heart still racing as if it would burst any moment.

As I neared the aisle, I finally had the courage to look at the face of the man I was marrying.

He was dressed in a tailored suit, his hair slicked back. He towered above most men in this gathering. His dark grey eyes seemed to pierce into my soul as his gaze was unreadable, but somehow it managed to send a shiver down my spine.

Damien was rumoured to be a cold, ruthless business man whose path wasn’t to be messed with.

What was I doing? Was this really what I wanted?

Maybe I shouldn’t have done this? My mind raced, but it was already too late, because I was already in front of Damien.

I hesitated at the altar, my body frozen in place, but one icy glare from him snapped me back into motion.

Quietly, he let his hands to mine, soft, gentle yet firm as he led me up to the altar. My fingers twitched in his grasp, a part of me screaming at me to run.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

A surge of emotions—excitement, fear, guilt, and anxiety coursed through me all at once as the priest’s voice echoed around us.

We recited our vows and exchanged rings, my voice low and measured the entire time. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. If I had, I would have crumbling right there and then. The ceremony went by in a blur, too fast and almost too perfect.

Then, the priest’s voice rang out, cutting through my haze.

.

“By the power vested in me,” he declared, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Damien reached for me, gently lifting the veil with a touch that sent tingles through my skin. At that moment, a collective gasp echoed from the front row.

Without warning, he leaned in. His expression was unfazed, but his eyes—those grey eyes, burned with something dangerous.

He cupped my lips, his fingers cold against my skin. Then, he kissed me.

It was nothing like I had imagined our first kiss would be.

It wasn’t tender, it was claiming. His lips crushed mine with a force that left no room for breath, no chance for withdrawal. There was no warmth in it, only fire and fury as though it was my first punishment.

As the world blurred against us, my fingers clung to the fabric of my dress, it was the only thing keeping me from crumbling, because what was this madness?

Finally, he pulled back slowly, deliberately, and just enough for his breath to brush against my ear.

“You’re going to regret this, Siena Moreau.” He whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

My breath caught, my eyes widened, heart racing.

What have I done?