My Fiancé Loved My Sister

“You’re finally here, sis. I already had your gown taken out for you. Go put it on, quick. You’ll be the most beautiful bride in the world.”

She meant my custom-made gown. The one she’d been wearing while she pressed herself against Clay.

I waved her off, my finger pointing instead to the corner, to the gown no one had touched. A wedding dress black as ink.

“I think black suits me better.”

Maud clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.

“What? Black for a wedding? That’s bad luck.”

Clay’s face darkened too, and his fingers clamped around my wrist.

“That’s what widows wear! Odette, I’m still alive and well. Don’t be ridiculous.”

I just looked at them, calm, and let a small smile pull at my lips.

“Is that so? Because I think this color… is exactly right for a happy occasion like today.”

I stood in front of the mirror. The black gown was a black rose in full bloom, and against it my skin looked white as snow.

Stunning. Breathtaking.

One of a kind.

I ran my hand over the skirt, my voice quiet but landing clearly in Clay’s ears, and in Maud’s.

“White stands for purity? I think black is what deserves the woman I am today.”

Clay was still trying to stop me, his voice frayed with agitation.

“Sweetheart, enough. This black one really is bad luck. Go try the white again, or the red gown.”

Through the mirror I watched the impatience written all over his face, and I laughed.

“Clay. So we’re not breaking up?”

“Then I’ll say it. You and I don’t suit each other.”

Clay froze on the spot, his pupils quaking.

“Sweetheart, what did you say?”

Maud snapped straight into her performance, stamping her foot as if desperate.

“Odette, don’t be stubborn, all right? If you let Clay slip away, what other man in this world would dote like this on a woman pushing thirty?”

I turned slowly, my cold gaze settling on her face.

“I still remember, back when Mom and Dad brought me home, you held me and cried and swore you’d treat me as your real sister. That you’d never fight me, never take what was mine.”

“Maud, did you keep the part about not fighting? Or is it that even the words ‘never take’ are beyond you?”

“Know your place. You’re nothing but the family’s fake heiress.”

Under my stare her face drained white, and she stepped back without thinking.

That was when the doors of the bridal salon burst open with a crash.

A man with a twisted face rushed in, a thirty-centimeter blade in his hand, slashing at anyone he saw.

He was screaming.

“I’m forty and I still can’t get a wife. Why should you rich people get to?”

Screams broke out everywhere. Chaos. People scattering into a tangle.

Clay shouted.

“Maud, look out!”

The attacker drove the knife straight at Maud, who stood frozen in terror.

Clay lunged like something out of the sky, sweeping her into his arms and kicking the man away.

The man scrambled up, eyes bloodshot, scanning the crowd, and locked at last on me, alone, with no one to shield me.

A wet thud.

Agony tore through my stomach. I looked down at the blade sunk into my body.

Blood soaked the gown red in an instant.

The next second the world spun, and sleep dragged me under.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital.

To save me, Clay was having blood drawn from Maud, frantically, over and over.

The doctor was on his knees, his voice shaking.

“Mr. Gilbert. We can’t take any more. Miss Henson is already severely anemic. Drawing more could kill her.”

Clay’s eyes were red, his fist twisted into the doctor’s collar.

“Odette has a congenital clotting disorder. She has to be transfused. And Maud’s tough, she can take it. Draw it.”

Outside the door, Mom and Dad were sobbing their hearts out.