Here Comes the Bride

Everyone had already gathered outside the church when the grand golden carriage arrived, gleaming so brightly it might've blinded anyone within a mile radius. This lavish display, of course, was sponsored by the Ford family. Naturally, Lord and Lady Summers hadn't contributed a single penny.

Because why would they when the one getting married is not their favorite child?

Inside the carriage, the unfortunate, favorite child sat as stiff as the overly-corseted bodice she was currently fighting for air in. She tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust the painfully tight gown that wasn't even meant for her. She swallowed, but it wasn't the nerves—her chest was literally compressed like a can of soda in a vice.

"Why do they always make these things so tight?" Ava muttered, wondering if she was about to pass out from lack of oxygen or sheer humiliation.

Helen sat across from her, cool and composed as always. The picture of calm in a room full of chaos. She wore a simple violet dress that matched the wedding's theme, her expression betraying none of the inner chaos that Ava was sure must be roiling in her.

The woman looked like she had just come from a spa, not a front-row seat to this circus.

"You seem very relaxed after what you've done," Ava muttered, watching her carefully, trying to pry something—anything—from Helen's silence.

Helen only smiled. A knowing, unreadable smile.

Ava groaned and shifted in her seat, trying to breathe properly. The gown fit Eva perfectly, which meant it didn't fit her since they have a little yet noticeable difference in cup size.

"You evil witch," Ava muttered, pulling at the material.

Helen had insisted they couldn't alter the size. It had to remain exactly as it was—if anyone noticed a difference, the entire deception could come crumbling down. And Helen, ever calculating, ever in control, had ensured that everyone involved was playing right into her hands for her ladyship.

Ava had no choice but to go along with it until everything is finished.

Helen suddenly spoke just as she reached for the carriage door. "Just think of this as an opportunity, Lady Ava."

Ava furrowed her brows, but before she could ask what she meant, Helen turned to her, a slow grin creeping across her lips. A grin of someone who had already won.

"You once asked what it was like to live Lady Eva's miserable life," she said softly, tilting her head. "Now you will have the chance to live it."

Ava's breath caught. She stared at Helen, stunned, as the words settled in. But Helen wasn't finished.

"You always mock her for being helpless in front of your parents. How stupid, reckless, and entirely useless she is—which, in some ways, is true." Helen's expression hardened, her voice laced with something colder, something deeper. "But because of that, your parents engraved that image of her into their minds. And Lady Eva had no choice but to accept it. To become it."

Ava swallowed, hands gripping the fabric of her simple wedding gown.

"She had to act like it," Helen continued, "because it was easier than fighting back. Easier than competing with you. You, the perfect one. The one who could do no wrong. And since your parents see you as flawless, they took your words as truth. They turned your perception of Lady Eva into her reality—and she was left with no choice but to live in it."

Helen's lips pressed into a thin line.

"Nobles only listen to people they think are superior to them," she murmured. "And Lady Eva, despite her title, has always been treated as something lesser. Even lower than a maid like myself. That is why I had to help her—to cut that cycle of discrimination, especially among the children who will inherit it."

Her eyes met Ava's, unwavering.

"Lady Eva isn't as bad as you all made her believe she is. That's just what you all wanted her to believe."

Ava opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Before she could even process a response, Helen turned, pulled the carriage door open, and stepped out first, reaching a hand back to help Ava down. There's no need to even help her with the gown since it's too simple, any bride would look like a bride's maid wearing it.

Ava ignored Helen's outstretched hand, opting to descend the carriage steps on her own like a self-sufficient queen—only to nearly trip because of the suffocatingly tight gown.

Dignity intact. No one saw that. She cleared her throat, placed her own veil down, and strode forward like nothing happened.

Before she could even take a deep breath (not that her dress allowed it), the wedding coordinators swarmed her.

"Lady Eva, just a quick reminder—"

"Oh my god, again?" Ava groaned, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes, my lady," the frazzled coordinator continued as if she hadn't been rudely interrupted. "You walk down the aisle after the flower girls, do not stop midway to talk to anyone, wait until the officiant gives the cue before lifting your veil—"

"It's literally my tenth reminder," Ava muttered, waving them off.

Then, it hit her.

Of course.

She'd heard her mother tell the organizers earlier to remind Eva about the sequence multiple times because, apparently, Eva was stupid.

Ava froze mid-step, the words hitting her in a way they never had before.

For the first time, she felt genuinely bad for Eva.

All those years of teasing, of calling Eva reckless and scatterbrained—it had been funny to Ava. Just harmless sibling bickering. But to their parents, it was truth. They had taken her words at face value, branding Eva as incompetent so thoroughly that they freely told other people about it without a second thought.

Ava barely had time to react before Adelle materialized behind her like some sort of well-dressed ghost, casually adjusting the long, delicate flare of her gown.

When she stood up, she leaned in ever so slightly and whispered, "Everything's according to plan, my lady."

Ava gave a small nod, her face composed, but her brain? Absolute chaos. She darted a quick glance at Helen, who was thankfully too busy taking her place among the bridesmaids to have overheard anything. Good. No suspicious glances, no raised eyebrows. We're still in the clear.

As Adelle joined the procession, Ava took in the scene before her. Since this was a rushed marriage, only a handful of nobles had even bothered to attend. Some had flat-out refused after hearing that the ceremony involved the two biggest disappointments of high society—Zeke Ford and Eva Summers.

Yes. They had a reputation.

Ava felt a fresh wave of guilt. Sure, she'd always known Eva wasn't exactly the shining beacon of responsibility, but it was different seeing it in real-time. The absolute lack of enthusiasm in the air was suffocating.

The nobles who had shown up stood around like hostages, their faces blank, their eyes filled with second-hand embarrassment. The bridesmaids, sponsors, and flower girls were all lined up, their postures screaming, I don't want to be here, as if they were attending a mandatory workplace seminar instead of a wedding.

No polite nods. No friendly greetings. Barely even a glance her way.

It was so awkward, Ava almost wished she could turn around and marry herself instead. Suddenly, Ava's gaze flickered across the crowd—then she saw herself.

Well, Eva pretending to be her, awkwardly shifting back and forth like a lost puppy, unsure of where to stand in the lineup. For a second, nobody cared. But then—like magic—every head turned toward her.

There was a brief pause before the collective realization hit.

"Ah, yes. The golden child. The precious Ava Summers," one of the coordinators said and then suddenly, everyone moved.

Nobles who hadn't even bothered to acknowledge Ava mere seconds ago were now stepping forward, their expressions warm, their voices overly enthusiastic.

"Lady Ava! You look radiant today."

"Such a joyous occasion!"

"Truly a wedding worth attending!"

Eva, of course, being Eva, reacted with genuine surprise—eyes wide, mouth slightly open, as if she, too, couldn't believe this was happening. It took her a moment to recover, blinking at the sudden wave of attention before finally giving a small, unsure smile.

Ava watched as Helen smoothly intercepted, gently pulling Eva to her proper place in the lineup, expertly guiding her through the overwhelming adoration like she had done it a million times before.

And that's when it really hit Ava. Eva had been enduring this her entire life. Not just the neglect. Not just the indifference. But the humiliation of knowing that all it took for people to care was for them to think she was her.

And all this time, Ava had been basking in the warmth of that attention—never realizing how bitter the cold must have been for her sister.

But that was sure as hell not a good enough reason for her, Ava Summers, to be forced into a wedding that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

And that was exactly why, no matter how much guilt tried to strangle her, she was sticking to the plan.

Her grip tightened on the surprisingly not-plastic bouquet—seriously, she half-expected it to be made of synthetic flowers with how little effort her parents had put into this whole thing. At least Lord and Lady Ford actually put effort for Eva.

Then, out of nowhere, Eva stepped out of line, just slightly, flashing her a grin like she wasn't currently committing identity fraud.

"The best man is Zach!" she mouthed.

Ava blinked. And surprisingly—she understood that.

Then—oh, shit.

"Right! Zach!" she muttered under her breath, gripping her bouquet even tighter. "I need to talk to him after this about our little issue."

She inhaled sharply, forcing a breath into her lungs that didn't seem to want to cooperate. She tried—really tried—to sneak a glance at him before the ceremony started.

Too late.

The church doors swung open with dramatic precision, and the moment the first note of "Beautiful in White" filled the air, she stiffened.

Because—holy crap. Someone was actually singing it live.

And not just singing. Whoever it was had the voice of a damn angel, the kind of voice that could make a grown man weep and convince an entire congregation that love was real.

Ava's lips thinned.

Well. At the very least, Eva's in-laws were considerate enough to hire a decent wedding singer.

Just as the procession began, one by one, everyone started moving down the aisle in perfect order.

And then—finally—Lord and Lady Summers arrived.

They flanked Ava on either side, stiff as statues, their expressions unreadable. Without so much as a word or a glance, they locked arms with her and started walking when their turn came, seamlessly blending into the spectacle as if they were merely props in this grand production.

Everything happened so fast. One moment, she was gripping her bouquet like a lifeline, the next—bam!—she was suddenly standing at the altar, next to Zeke Ford.

Wait.

How the hell did she even get here?

She barely even registered the walk. It was a blur of music, stiff smiles, and the quiet murmuring of guests.

And now—here she was. At the altar. Standing beside her soon-to-be husband who didn't even bother joining the procession. And he hadn't even looked at her once.

Not when she entered. Not when she walked down the aisle. Not even now. Ava expected—hoped—for at least a tiny reaction. A small smile. A twitch of amusement. Anything.

Because this was Zeke Ford in black designer tuxedo.

The kind of man who could be brought to his knees by the mere existence of a pretty woman. And not to be vain, but—she was a pretty woman.

And more importantly—so was Eva. After all, they looked exactly alike. And yet, here he was, standing next to her like she was just a mildly interesting lamp, staring at the priest who merely gestured everyone to sit.

Ava didn't want to pry, truly. But she was pissed.

Who did Zeke Ford think he was, standing there all high and mighty, not even sparing her a glance? She wasn't asking for much—just a little acknowledgment that he was, in fact, about to marry her. 

Even if she's only acting as Eva, no woman deserves to be treated like this by their soon-to-be-husband.

So, naturally, she stepped on his foot. Hard.

The sharp gasp he let out was immensely satisfying.

Of course, Zeke wasn't one to back down. Without missing a beat, he subtly shifted and—sat on her veil.

Ava nearly toppled backward, barely managing to grab onto the nearest seat to save herself from full-blown humiliation.

"You crooked excuse of a man," she silently groaned, eyes locked on the priest as if she were the very embodiment of piety.

"You wrecked hag," Zeke hissed back, also glaring at the priest like he was contemplating confession.