1.1 Betrayal In White

Skylar has always imagined what a perfect Omega wedding would be like.

Pink and white roses on the ceiling Fell on the ground, drifting like soft petals caught in the wind. Chandeliers bathed the hall in a golden glow, their crystals shimmering like fallen stars.

A slow, delicate piano melody echoing through the air, carrying the weight of dreams. Her mother, father, sister, and brother—faces wet with joyful tears. Stood at her side. This was what a perfect Omega wedding should have been.

But this, this Is a nightmare

Skylar's breath hitched as she stared at the projector screen, her own wedding crumbling before her eyes. The air thickened, pressing her chest. Why? Why her? Had she committed some unforgivable sin in her past life?

Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, pooling like silent rivers carving through the stone.

Image after image flickered across the screen. Each one is more hurting than the last.

Ethan Walker, her fiance, tangled in silk sheets with her sister Phoebe. Dim hotel lights cast shadows over their naked bodies. Their lips pressed together in sinful hunger.

The date on the corner of the screen was two months ago—during their engagement.

That tiny timestamp made her heart stop.

A slow, mocking chuckle echoed through the speakers.

"Damn, Ethan! You really had the best of both worlds, huh?" The voice belonged to one of Ethan's groomsmen—drunk and reckless, holding a microphone with a smirk.

"You had one omega warming your bed while another planned the wedding! " He whistled " Talk about efficiency."

The guests gasped, the sound crashing over her like a tidal wave. Murmurs spread like wildfire.

A deafening silence swallowed the room.

Skylar staggered back, her heel catching on the hem of her dress. The betrayal was a blade, sharp and merciless, carving through her chest. Ethan—the man she had loved, trusted, and built a future with—had been sleeping with her own sister.

A hand clamped over her mouth, bile rising in her throat.

"Skylar…" Ethan's voice sliced through the chaos. His face paled, sweat beading along his brow. "I—I can explain."

Explain? Explain what? The way he had kissed her that morning, whispering vows of forever, all while sliding into bed with her sister the same night?

Skylar's eyes searched the crowd, desperate, clinging to the last thread of hope. Surely, her family would defend her. Surely, they would see the betrayal for what it is.

But as she met their gazes, her mother's cold stare, her father's blank expression, her brother's smirk—hope cracked like a fragile glass.

" I'm sorry, " Phoebe whispered, her voice small, eyes gleaming with tears. "It's just happened. "

Just happened. Like spilling a drink. Like tripping on a step. As if betraying your own flesh and blood was something so simple.

The lights blurred, fading into a dull haze, just like the warmth in her eyes, turning to frost. Like the first chill, I'd winter stealing the last breath of autumn.

She scanned the hall, her gaze locking onto each face, memorizing them—carving their expressions into the depths of her mind. The pity. The amusement. The indifference. Each look was a knife to her soul.

Burning them into her soul like scars that would never fade.

Her brother's smirk, her father's unboarded face, her mother's cold eyes, her sister's crying face, and Ethan's pale face.

Tears spilled from her pale face. The hall was dead silent to the point that a pin drop could be heard. The whispers ceased. But before Skylar could try to form one word out of her dry throat.

Laughter echoed through the hall, painfully mocking, twisting the knife deeper. Skylar turned, her breath hitching as she met her brother's gaze. He was smiling. Smiling as if her suffering was the grandest entertainment he had ever seen.

" Oh, come one Skylar. " Mark asked amusement lacing in his tone. " You didn't actually think this was your wedding did you?"

He savored the despair. To him, her tears were priceless gems.

Her brother stood with his arms crossed, a slow smirk curving his lips. His dark eyes gleamed, not in shock, but in amusement.

Like he had expected this.

Like he had been waiting for it.

His voice, smooth and razor-sharp, continued to cut her apart.

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. " Oh, Skylar...why the tears?" He tilted his head mockingly. "It's just a simple question."

The floor suddenly vanished beneath her. She felt as if floating. A sickening realization coiled around her throat.

They knew.

They all knew.

Phoebe's tears weren't guilt. They were embarrassed and an act. Mark's amusement wasn't a surprise. It was satisfaction. Her mother and father weren't shocked, because they had already made their choice.

They had chosen Phoebe.

She felt the walls pressing in. Her breath hitched. The air grew thicker each second, suffocating.

The scent of roses thickened, turning cloying, suffocating, like spoiled perfume drowning the air. Clinging to her lungs like poison.

The chandelier overhead blurred, its golden glow warping and twisting, the whole room distorting like a fever dream.

A high-pitched ringing screamed in her ears, drowning out the voices, the murmurs, the heartbeat pounding in her chest. The gasps, even the frantic hammering of her own heart.

For the first time in her life, she felt like an outsider in her own family.

A murmur swept through the guests, whispers growing into a relentless storm.

" Her own sister? Unbelievable "

" What a disgrace."

" I'd die if that happened to me."

Skylar felt the color drain from her face. The weight of a hundred eyes crashed onto her, pressing her down.

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her throat was dry, raw.

Her knees wobbled, the world tilting beneath her feet. Desperate, she reached out for something, for someone. A hand brushed hers, a fleeting warmth. Hope flared, fragile, and desperate.

But then it was gone. Cold. Absent. No one reached for her. No one would catch her. The last thing she felt was the cold, unforgiving floor as her body collapsed.

Her vision darkened at the edges.

The last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her whole. Was Phoebe stepping toward Ethan, slipping her hand into his? As if this had been their wedding all along. As if Skylar had never been the bride. Just a corpse, dressed in white, lowered into the grave of her love.

She was the bride—but they had buried her instead

And then the ground suddenly swallowed her. And everything turned black.