Only one name echoed in my chest, pounding against Adrian’s cursed heart.
“Seraphina…”
Helena’s scream echoed through the hall, sharp and panicked, slicing through the murmurs of the wedding guests. Her voice cracked, raw with desperation.
“Dominic! Dominic, wait for me! Don’t leave me!”
She ran after him, her gown tangling around her legs, her jeweled heels clicking violently against the marble floor. But her steps were frantic, clumsy, driven more by fear than grace. People turned in their seats, some rising, phones already lifted, recording the chaos.
Gasps followed her as she stumbled, her veil slipping, hair loosening from its perfect bun. Her voice carried, shrill and frantic. “Dominic, please! Don’t go! Tell me it’s not true—tell me it’s not her!”
Click. Flash. The blinding light of cameras filled her vision, each shot capturing her unraveling. Guests whispered, some horrified, some entertained, their voices a cruel chorus.
“What’s happening?”
“Why is she running like that?”
“Is it true—something about Seraphina?”
“Who’s Seraphina? Wasn’t this supposed to be Dominic’s wedding day?”
The whispers spread like wildfire, every word another lash against Helena’s pride. She tried to push forward, ignoring the laughter, the questions, the hundreds of eyes dissecting her humiliation. Her chest tightened, and her breaths grew shallow. The floor tilted, faces blurred, and the walls seemed to close in.
Her knees buckled, her heel twisted violently, and she crashed to the marble with a sickening crack. The crowd gasped again, phones flashing as her gown pooled around her like a broken veil of silk.
“Seraphina…” she whispered once, the name trembling from her lips like a curse and a prayer.
Her heart thundered painfully, her breaths rasped, and then the weight of fear, shame, and exhaustion dragged her under. She collapsed completely, fainting amidst the chaos, her body sprawled on the cold floor—immortalized in the lenses of dozens of phones.
But Dominic never saw her fall.
He was already out the doors, running into the night, chasing the nightmare he refused to believe. His voice ripped through the chaos of sirens and flashing lights.
“Seraphina! Where is she?! Let me see her!”
The scene was chaos—a mangled body covered by a white sheet, blood smeared on the asphalt, the metallic tang filling the air. Dominic’s breath seized in his lungs as he stumbled forward.