Killian Spencer wasn’t just cruel. He was vindictive.
“Julianna,” Selene said, bringing my attention to her. “How about you switch your black veil–”
“No.” I eyed the twelve-foot-long white veil she was holding in her hands; the end of the train was laced up with crystals that matched my wedding dress.
My fingers brushed against the little black veil covering just my face. “I’m not removing this veil or switching it with another one. I’ve had a wedding veil custom-made to match this one.”
“Yes. I know.” Selene sighed, as if she was speaking with a stubborn, bratty child. “But the one you custom-made is black. Please, at least for today, forgo the black veil and wear the white one your father had designed for you.”
“We’ve had this conversation way too many times over the last three weeks and my answer is still the same, Selene.”
I refused to wear a white veil, for my penance was not over yet. It would last an eternity but wedding or not, I wasn’t going to compromise with my atonement. Salvation came in many ways; absolution was different for every person. But to attain it, sacrifices needed to be made.
And I was sacrificing my white veil – my perfect wedding – just so I could taste the remnant of mercy on my tongue.
I gestured for the unopened box lying on the bed. “Bring me the veil I want.”
“Your father will be disappointed.” It was her last effort to help change my mind and she knew bringing up my father would do just that.
After the death of Gracelynn, I had done everything my father had asked me to do. I was the perfect daughter and my father’s casualty in his race for more power.
My gaze locked on Selene’s face without flinching. “I know.”
“People will talk,” she said.
“They already do,” I deadpanned.
“Well, they will talk more. There’s no way your father and the Spencers can quiet the gossips again.”
“Our lives have turned into a mockery, Selene. A few more gossips won’t hurt and I honestly could care less when I’m about to get married to the man who absolutely loathes my mere existence.”
“Oh, Julianna.” Her voice softened and there was the pity I had been waiting for. It was there all along.
Selene was my only friend, and her pity was the one thing I couldn’t bear. I just wanted someone to look at me as Julianna Romano.
Not to judge, pity or hate.
Not as the scarred girl, hiding behind her veil.
Not as Gracelynn’s killer.
And definitely not as the woman who had ruined Killian’s life.
I wanted to be Julianna again.
The girl with a broken heart; the girl who was atoning for her sins; the girl who survived.
Not the accident. But the girl who survived the gossips, the cruel words, the sneers, the cold eyes, the heartless resentment and her own self-loathing.
I grasped her hand in mine, admiring the difference between us. Her hand was old, a bit wrinkled. The callouses on her fingertips were proof of a working hand, while mine was pale and smooth. Young and without any experiences.
I laced my fingers through hers, bringing her hand up and pressing my lips against the back of it. A simple gesture of respect and love. “You work for my father, Selene. But you’re my only friend and companion,” I whispered. “So, please, at least for today… can you just be my friend, instead of following my father’s order? You’re not his puppet, so for once, just take my side?”
“That’s the thing, Julianna. I’m always on your side. You just don’t see it because you choose to believe everyone is against you.”
My chest tightened as she walked to the bed and opened the box, revealing the black tulle veil I had ordered, custom-made by my specification. The train ran twelve-feet-long with a lace design and black Swarovski crystals at the end of it.
I glanced at the mirror as Selene came to stand behind me. Without a word, she carefully pinned the veil at the back of my bun. My long black hair has been perfectly coiffed into curls that fell on either side of my face and a messy bun that looked elegant. An intricate ivory tiara, that had been passed down the Spencer family for over a century, sat atop my head. Once the black veil was in place, Selene pulled the front of it over my face.
It was the perfect contrast to my wedding dress.
My white dress was a heavy Ralph Lauren custom-made ball gown. The tulles and lace fabric were covered with over 200,000 Swarovski white crystals. The gown was so heavy, I wondered how I was going to walk down the aisle with it weighing down my body.
Only the best for a Romano and Spencer wedding, my future father-in-law had said.
It was gorgeous, fancy and expensive – nothing like my personal preference. I would have chosen something simpler and elegant – definitely less heavy and shiny – if I had had a choice.
But it was all about the people, the paparazzi, and our image. This wedding had to be out of the ordinary, special and nothing like anyone had ever seen before.
Bishop Romano was one of the richest men in the United States, except only those closest to him really knew what his business was about.
He mingled with the richest politicians and businessmen. His support system went wide and far, from polices to doctors and lawyers. What they did behind the scenes and under the tables – well, it was exactly as they portrayed in the movies. My father and the people he surrounded himself were as corrupt as they came.
William Spencer, Killian’s father – served as the President of the United States twelve years ago, for two consecutive terms. He was the one public figure everyone talked about – both the good and the ugly – but that meant his private life was not so private any longer.
Killian was expected to run for President – one day, soon enough. It was the only possible outcome as the son of William Spencer. I knew he was working toward it. He had been placing himself into the inner circles of politicians and where it mattered, since he turned twenty years old.
This marriage was a contract – the perfect alliance between a Romano and a Spencer. The only way the two families could benefit from each other.
And me? Well, I was collateral damage.
Selene came to stand in front of me, blocking my reflection and bringing me out of my thoughts. “There you go,” she murmured, her voice coming out choked. She had tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, Jules.”
The pain in my chest was back at full force. The taste of misery was bitter on my tongue and shame – its poison – crawled under my flesh.
I could hear my sister’s voice echoing in my ears. Jules, she’d say. Jules, she’d cry. Jules, she’d laugh.
“Do you…think she’d ever forgive me?” I whispered, my voice shaking.
“She already did,” Selene said. “Gracelynn doesn’t hold grudges and especially not against you. You are the one who hasn’t forgiven yourself yet.”
“And my future husband,” I added.
Selene huffed. “His opinions don’t count.”
My lips twitched, even through the tears. “You really do hate him?”
“He made you cry, my precious girl. Of course I hate him and please, for the love of God, don’t start crying. You’ll mess up your mascara!”
I let out a teary laugh and then I was pulling Selene down for a hug. “Thank you,” I breathed. “You came into my life when I was five years old. You took care of me and Gracelynn, even though you didn’t have to. Treated us as if we were your own kids.”