Chapter 2 HELLO, SUNSHINE.
~~RAINA.
The silence after my father’s words feels heavier than a scream.
I stare at him, at both of them… these people who raised me, who taught me right and wrong… and I don’t recognize them anymore.
They look like total strangers wearing my parents’ faces.
“I’m not doing this,” I whisper, “You can’t make me…”
“You think we have a choice?” My father’s voice cracks like a whip. “You think YOU have a choice?”
My chest tightens.
My mother is already unzipping the dress, her trembling hands betraying her calm act. “Raina, please,” she murmurs, begging. “We just need to get through today. After that, we will figure something out. Please, baby.”
Her voice cracks on that last word, and it breaks something in me.
Because for the first time in my life, my mother looks small and defeated.
“I can’t,” I choke out. “You are asking me to lie to a man I’ve never even met properly…”
My father cuts in. “You’ve met him before.”
I blink. “What?”
“At Talia’s engagement dinner,” he says. “He looked at you. Do you remember?”
Oh, I remember.
The way his eyes flicked to me across the table darkly, and unreadable. The kind of stare that made you feel like he could see through everything you were trying to hide.
A shiver crawls up my spine and I shake my head, “He will know,” I whisper. “The second he sees me, he will know.”
My father’s jaw hardens. “Then, you better pray you’re convincing enough.”
Furious, I hollered, “You’re insane, both of you! Do you even hear yourselves?!”
“Raina-”
“No!” I shove the dress back at my mother. “You’d rather sell me off than admit Talia ran! You’re cowards!”
The next thing I know, heat explodes across my cheek.
The sound. Oh, it was sharp and violent
For a moment, I can’t breathe. I just stare at him, my father, stunned, my palm pressed to the burning imprint of his hand.
“If dead is what you want us to be, fine!” he roars, his voice breaking. “I’ll go out there and fucking announce to him that his betrothed has absconded! And then, maybe he will come in here and applaud us!”
His chest heaves, veins standing out along his neck.
“Whatever happens next,” he snarls, jabbing a finger at me, “is your fucking fault!”
The next minute, I’m standing in front of the mirror.
My face is fully made up and every trace of me is gone, buried under the mask of someone else.
The white dress clings to my body like a curse. The satin catches the light, spilling it across the room, making me look ethereal… and wrong.
The veil frames my face, and when I blink, it’s not me looking back.
I look nothing like me, but everything like her.
Talia.
My twin sister.
My throat tightens.
God, I’m supposed to be wearing purple today, not white.
“Oh, my dearest, you’re so gorgeous!” My mother clasps her hands together, tears welling in her eyes. For a second, her brows pull together in pride tangled with guilt.
The makeup artist and stylist have already left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving just the two of us in this suffocating room.
“Don’t start,” I warn her, my glare sharp enough to cut.
She exhales shakily, trying to smile. “Everything will be fine, sweet. We will find Talia and…”
“Mum!” I snap through gritted teeth, my voice trembling with anger I can’t control. My fingers tighten around the bouquet in my hand until the stems creak under the pressure, petals trembling like they can feel my agitation too.
The door swings open before she can answer and my father steps in, straightening his tie, his expression composed as his gaze sweeps over me from head to toe. A faint smile tugs at his lips, one that doesn’t really reach his eyes.
“We should get going,” he says calmly, like we’re heading to brunch, not walking straight into a fucking hell. “The wedding has started.”
And just like that, my heart stops.
I swear, it did.
Minutes blur into seconds and I don’t even remember walking down the stairs, or the way my mother kept fussing over my veil like it mattered.
All I know is that the moment I step outside, the world erupted.
“Congratulations, Talia!”
“Oh, you look breathtaking!”
“Talia, your groom is a lucky man!”
Each word slams into me like a stone to the chest.
Talia.
Talia.
Talia.
Their voices blur together sweetly, cheerfully, and oh, cruelly.
Every time someone says her name, bitterness rises in my throat. My smile feels foreign on my face, stiff and trembling at the edges.
I want to scream that they are wrong. That I’m not her, that the woman they’re celebrating is missing, and that I’m standing here pretending to be her.
But instead, I nod, I smile, and I let them hug me.
Because that’s what Talia would do.
Because that’s what my parents need me to do.
And when my father’s hand presses lightly against the small of my back, guiding me toward the waiting car, I realize there’s no turning back anymore.
————
The car doors open to a world that doesn’t feel real.
The air is thick, not with joy, not with music, but with something colder and sharper.
The hall looks like something out of a dream and a nightmare all at once. Chandeliers glowing, and armed guards in black suits standing discreetly among guests who are too polished, too poised, and too silent.
There are no giggling bridesmaids, no soft laughter or whispered gossip.
Instead, there are men with scars peeking beneath their collars, rings that glint like weapons, and women in dresses whose eyes say they know exactly what power tastes like.
Every gaze that turns toward me feels like a blade pressed against my neck.
The music swells deep, slow, and ceremonial. Like something played at a coronation… or an execution, instead of a wedding..
My fingers tighten around the bouquet as my stomach twists.
I take one step and then another, my father’s hand stays firm around my elbow, guiding me forward. He doesn’t speak, but I can feel the tension in his grip
And then I see him standing at the end of the aisle, watching me.
His face looks like it is carved from stone.
His eyes are dark, and unreadable.
The man my sister was supposed to marry.
The man I am about to deceive.
Luciano Rafael Moretti
He didn’t move, didn't smile. And didn't even acknowledge me with more than a measured, unreadable glance.
The faint gleam of a tattoo snakes along the side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. My eyes follow it down to his hand resting casually at his side, and I shiver, wondering how much of him is tattooed, and how much of him is hidden beneath that cold, perfect exterior.
Every step toward him feels like crossing a line I cannot uncross.
The music swells, but I barely hear it as my heart hammers so loud that it drowns everything else.
And at the end of the aisle, my father’s hand squeezes mine one last time like a silent warning.
And then, like some grim ritual, he releases me.
Luciano’s eyes finally meet mine fully, and I feel the weight of them like chains.
I am his bride for today. My sister’s shadow.
There is no warmth in his gaze. No recognition, no greeting.
Nothing but dark, perfect control.
Then, almost casually, he tilts his head slightly, lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile, and says, “Hello, sunshine.”
