Emilia

I trace my fingers along the cracked edges of the wooden dresser, one of the few things in this grand mansion that doesn't gleam with wealth. The drawer handle creaks as I tug it open, and I pull out the modest dress I'd been saving for my sister's wedding day. The dress isn't anything extravagant—just a soft blue with a lace trim at the collar—but it's mine, and somehow that makes it feel special.

There's a faint chattering from the hallway, and I recognize the sharp, nasal tone as my stepmother's voice, followed by the shriller, mocking laughter of my half-sister, Lillian. I sigh, folding the dress over my arm. The voices grow louder, and my heart clenches with a familiar mix of anticipation and dread. It's always been like this—a twisted dance where I am both invisible and the subject of their disdain.

I lean against the door, careful to remain hidden. I know I shouldn't listen, but I can't help myself.

"Imagine her thinking she'd be invited to the wedding breakfast," Lillian snickers. "Did you see that pathetic dress she's been saving? I can only imagine what people would say if they saw her in that."

Her words sting, but I've grown used to it, in a way. Lillian has always been the beauty of the family, with her cascading golden hair and a gaze that could freeze anyone who dared challenge her. She was our father's pride and joy, his legitimate daughter, the one who carried the family's honor and wealth. And then there was me—the daughter of a woman my father never should have loved, a mistake that was allowed to linger only because of the blood we shared.

"Emilia should be grateful we even let her stay under this roof," my stepmother sneers. "She eats our food, takes up our space... Lord knows, if it weren't for her mother's little sob story, she'd be on the streets by now."

A prickle of anger courses through me. They speak of my mother as if she were some forgotten stain, someone who begged for scraps. They never speak of the fact that my mother sacrificed everything to ensure I'd have a roof over my head. I swallow hard, willing myself to stay silent.

"And here she is, thinking she's part of the family," Lillian laughs. "She probably thinks she'll have a place at my wedding, like she's some cherished guest."

My fingers tighten around the fabric of my dress. Lillian's wedding—a grand event to secure a future that her beauty and family name had promised her. Meanwhile, I was just a shadow, a forgotten girl hidden in the corners of this house.

The conversation shifts as their voices grow softer, conspiratorial.

"Are you certain about this marriage, darling?" my stepmother murmurs, a hint of hesitation creeping into her voice. "I know he's wealthy, but his reputation… well, you know the rumors."

"Oh, mother," Lillian's voice is airy, careless, as if she couldn't be bothered to give the matter much thought. "I've heard it all—crippled, disfigured, barely a man at all. But what does it matter? With his wealth, he can hide in the shadows and leave me to bask in the spotlight. It's perfect, don't you think?"

Their laughter trickles down the hall, and I bite my lip. To them, marriage is a transaction, a ticket to a life of luxury. Love, trust, partnership—these are things they mock, things they probably think only a fool would hope for. But I can't help it; I'd always dreamed that love could be something more, something that transcends wealth and reputation.

I turn and step away from the door, slipping back into the sanctuary of my tiny room. The walls here are plain and unadorned, unlike the grand halls and sparkling chandeliers that decorate the rest of the house. Here, I feel safe—alone, but safe.

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring down at the blue dress draped across my lap. How foolish I'd been, clinging to the idea that somehow, someday, I might truly be part of this family. I was a burden to them, an inconvenience. A reminder of a mistake they would rather forget.

A knock on the door jolts me out of my thoughts. I quickly rise and smooth my dress, expecting one of the servants. But when I open the door, I find Lillian standing there, a smirk curling at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, well, there you are," she purrs, her eyes sweeping over me as if I'm something unpleasant that she's forced to endure. "I thought I'd find you sulking in here."

I grit my teeth and offer her a polite nod. "Is there something you need, Lillian?"

"Oh, I don't need anything from you," she laughs, a lilting, insincere sound. "I just thought you'd want to know that Mother has decided you won't be attending the wedding breakfast. We wouldn't want the guests to get… confused, would we?"

"Confused?" I ask, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

She gives a lazy shrug. "Well, seeing as you're hardly part of the family, it would be inappropriate. And besides, we can't have you embarrassing us, can we?"

A pang of humiliation flares in my chest, but I swallow it down, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain. "I see."

Her smirk widens, and she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Not that it really matters anyway."

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Emilia," she sighs, as if speaking to a particularly dense child. "Do you really think I'm going to go through with this marriage? To some hideous crippled beast?" She shakes her head, her eyes gleaming with something close to malice. "I've got far better prospects than that."

A chill runs down my spine. "You're not serious."

She rolls her eyes. "Why should I be forced to marry someone who hides away in the shadows? Just because he's rich doesn't mean I have to ruin my life."

"But… Mother and Father arranged everything," I say, struggling to keep up with her words. "If you don't go through with it…"

She tilts her head, her smile turning wicked. "Then someone else will have to, won't they?"

A sudden, sickening realization dawns on me. She wouldn't—she couldn't possibly mean—

"Oh, don't look so surprised," she chuckles, patting my cheek in a mock gesture of affection. "Someone has to keep this family's reputation intact, after all."

With that, she turns and strides away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding as her words echo in my mind.

"Someone else will have to, won't they?"

The air around me feels thick, suffocating. My fingers tremble as I reach up, pressing them against my lips, as if I can hold back the fear rising within me. Lillian's words play over and over in my head, like a twisted melody, filling me with a dread I can't ignore.

What if she truly doesn't go through with the marriage? Would they… would they make me take her place?

I sink onto my bed, feeling as if the ground has been ripped out from under me. I'd spent my life trying to avoid the cruel gaze of my family, hoping to simply fade into the background. But now, it seems fate has other plans.

I clasp my hands together, squeezing them tight. I've always accepted my place in this household, learned to bear the weight of their scorn. But this… this is something I never imagined.

As I sit there, trembling in the solitude of my small room, a single thought takes root in my mind, steady and unyielding:

If they truly plan to throw me into this marriage… then I will face it, on my own terms.