He was supposed to marry your sister. The wedding had been arranged months ago between two powerful families. But on the morning of the wedding, your sister disappeared. Your family was terrified. Cancelling the marriage would destroy the alliance, cost both families a fortune and put a major business agreement at risk. So your father gave you one choice: Take her place.
Bastian POV:
The night before the wedding, Bastian sat at a dimly lit bar with his closest friends, a glass of whiskey between his fingers.
“Hey, did you hear about Seraphina?”
Arlo asked.
Bastian glanced over.
“Seraphina?”
“Your future wife.”
Arlo said, leaning slightly forward.
Bastian gave a humorless laugh.
“Unfortunately.”
“I heard she's spoiled. Treats servants and everyone beneath her like garbage. Apparently, she's cruel too.”
Arlo said.
Bastian's jaw tightened. He looked down at his drink.
“I don't care.”
“You don't?”
Arlo asked.
“No.”
Bastian said coldly.
“I didn't want this marriage in the first place.”
His friends exchanged a glance. Everyone knew why. There was another woman - the woman Bastian actually loved. The woman he had been forced to leave behind because she could never give his family the alliance they wanted.
Bastian swallowed the bitterness in his throat.
“I gave up the woman I wanted for this marriage. Whatever Seraphina is like,
she isn't going to change that.”
“You should at least try to get along with her.”
Arlo said.
“I'll be respectful.”
Bastian replied.
Arlo studied him for a moment.
“And if she really is as awful as everyone says?”
Bastian's expression hardened.
“Then I'll make this marriage bearable.”
He took a slow drink.
“Nothing more.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Your heart pounded as you stood at the entrance of the church, your sister's wedding dress fitting perfectly against your body. Seraphina was supposed to be standing here, but she had run away during the night. Instead, you were the one taking her place.
Your father's words echoed in your mind.
'You will marry him. There is no other choice.'
You slowly walked down the aisle, your face hidden beneath the white veil. At the end of the aisle stood the man who would soon be your husband, his expression unreadable - calm and distant.
When you reached him, Bastian took your hand. His grip was firm, his expression still distant.
Then the priest began the vows.
Bastian looked at you through the veil.
“I hope you're worth everything I'm giving up.”
Your heart sank. You lowered your gaze, hiding the guilt in your eyes. He thought you were Seraphina. He had no idea he was marrying the wrong twin.
The priest's solemn voice echoed throughout the cathedral as he finished the final part of the ceremony. He then looked toward you.
“Do you, Seraphina, take Bastian De'Ivory as your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health for better or for worse for as long as you both shall live?”