Till death do us part

Violet

I stare at my reflection in the full-size mirror. A sad, broken blonde whose face is veiled in a nose-length white netting bandeau veil stares back at me. It's the wedding today, the onset of my misery.

I'm wearing a white sparkling gown with a fitted bodice. Its thigh-high slit runs down, flowing at the end, a beautiful embellishment of beads and sequins.

The dress has a V-neckline decorated with embellished overlays, and the long sleeves are sheer and adorned with sequins. A silver necklace ran along my neck. 

Our wedding is going down in history as one of the most expensive weddings, and I know it's one of Ethan's plans to get people prejudging and badmouthing me after I end our relationship.

“You look great, Violet.” My mom gestures for the lady in charge of my dressing to leave.

“How are you taking the lies on social media, Mom? Everything people know about us is fake.”

Mom walks over, slowly. “None of this reflects our lives, sweetheart.”

“I warned you, girl, didn't I?”

Our heads swivel to the door, my heart fluttering in fear.

“You finally trapped my son in your web of—”

“Let me stop you there, Juliet.” Unease settles in my stomach as Mom steps closer to her. “You don't speak to my daughter like that while I'm here.”

“Who are you and what do you bring to the table?”

“I am Rebecca Sinclair, and I bring my daughter to the table.”

“Your daughter?” She scoffs. “Behind the great child you see is a tired mother. I won't reap for whores to sow. Earth has no fury than a mother's scorn.” She turns on her heels and storms off, leaving behind a disturbing silence.

Mom walks over to me and takes my hands, and for the first time since the whole charade, I see fear and pain in her eyes. “Sweetheart. You don't have to do this. We'll just use some of our savings and send you away—”

I take her hands in consolation. Mom has never sounded this scarred before, I can tell the situation surpasses her. “Mom. Walk me to the altar.” The one thing I live for is my family.

I sail down the aisle with a hand placed in my mother's, my eyes riveting on the man who's going to become my husband in a few minutes. Fake husband, but legally married.

Taking in the splendid and extravagant look of Gotham Hall doesn't fit the moment, neither does glancing at the guests, so I just stare at the smile on his face. A front meant to deceive the world, but our eyes hold the real truth, communicating it to each other.

Mom places my hand in his, which symbolizes a transfer of responsibility and care for me, but on the darker side, a transfer of pain.

Ethan chose my wedding attire, so he chose the veil to make sure I kept smiling falsely like I'm doing now. Like he's also doing. To think it's supposed to be mine and Pete's day, but Ethan ruined our union. Tears scald my eyes, but I keep them at bay.

The ceremony begins. The officiant introduces the ceremony and says the opening prayer. Our voices firm and steady, our eyes latched, we take turns reciting the marriage vows, promising to love and cherish each other. 

To us, it's a promise to hate and forsake each other.

I can never miss the victory and excitement in his eyes and his smile when he said the last line of the vow, “till death do us part.” Yet, I manage to say the vows.

Three months and we're done.

Anxiety claims me during the ring exchange, making my finger tremble, and the ring nearly falls, but he catches it, slipping it around my ring finger like nothing happened. The rage in his eyes when he looks at me gives him away, and I see the warning in his eyes.

The ring exchange symbolizes love, commitment and unity that represents marriage, but it's the opposite for us. It represents a constant reminder of my misery.

The officiant pronounces us husband and wife, which is in fact, cat and mouse.

I gasp inaudibly as I feel my feet leave the floor, and in the following second, his lips are on mine, the kiss so intimate and deliberate, surpassing all levels of pretense.

The guests, both ones against us, clueless ones, and the ones for us, erupt into cheers and applause.

“You’re forgetting your role, Mrs Coleman, need a spank to keep you reminded?”

Calling me that name paints me with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Revulsion, anger, fear, sadness. Sinclair suits Violet better, Dalton could've been much better.

He doesn't put me down; he holds me in bridal carry, taking me out of the building, the guests' throwing rice and confetti at us. All I do is smile harder, a shallow smile. He still doesn't put me down as we get to the Limousine and he sits me in the it. The driver zooms off after Ethan gets in, bound for the reception venue.

The banquet hall is large and spacious with elegant, opulent, and sophisticated decorations. Each white chandelier that hangs from the ceiling not only gives a warm and inviting feel but creates a romantic and festive ambiance. 

There's an excess of food and drinks of different varieties. Guests chat and refresh, their voices meddling in the uplighting aria opera blaring softly in the hall. It feels like they're all feasting on my misery.

I'm standing in a corner with Avra. Across the white and reflective dancefloor with the monogram of our initials in the middle, is Ethan and a group of men chatting and laughing. Some of those men are from school, I wonder if I'm the talk of the evening.

I could be, seeing as everyone's giving me a wide berth. Some ladies even give me dirty glares and giggles with their friends. But the jealousy in their eyes is hard to miss. Jealous of me over a man I can give to them for free.

Whoever takes Ethan from me can never realize how much good they've done for me.

There's a chance I'm being given a wide berth because I'm a nobody who doesn't fit into high society.

“They say what happens in high school remains in high school, but you changed it. Two of you. I'm happy for you. Why did you decide to keep it a secret?”

I came to Manhattan to live a secret and quiet life, yes. I kept my relationship with Ethan a secret, not true. That's one of the biggest lies on social media.

“Congratulations, dear old friend.”

I turn and see Lucia approaching, her gait elegant as always. She almost looks better than the bride herself. High school girls nearly killed themselves trying to be Lucia back then. Her beauty turns heads.

I felt lucky to have a friend like her, but that was until my breakup with Ethan when she turned on me.

If she thinks she's masking her rage and jealousy well, then she has to try harder because her eyes are betraying her. I feel for her, though, just as much as I feel for myself and Peter.

“Excuse us, please.” She flashes Avra a grin, which Avra returns and walks off. “That was quite the romantic dance you had with my fiance. It seems I'm among the lucky people who know that all this is a foul play.”

“Surely, you and those lucky people know I didn't want any of this.”

“What matters is that once again, you've taken what belongs to me.”

“I didn't steal Ethan from you back in high school. You lost your chance when you turned him down.”

She scoffs, fury and defeats swimming in her eyes. “Who’s his sweetheart now, and who's his enemy? You're his enemy, the girl who broke his heart.” She fakes a smile. “It’ll take long before you blend into high society. Well, your pages are starting to grow. I love your art, they're masterpieces.”

“Thanks,” I genuinely say.

She folds her arms, smirking. “You're versatile. An artist, beautician, a fashion designer, even… a stripper.”

Her last word sends my heart fluttering in fear as I gape at her, memories flooding back to me. That's my past, one I wished never happened.

“Tut, tut, what happens when Ethan finds out? Gosh, he's gonna be mad. Oh,” she pauses. “I've got a surprise for you.” She gestures to the stage.

My eyes are yet to settle there when I hear the clinks of a spoon against a glass.

I gasp, cowering in terror as I see Jerome, the traumatic memories floating back to me. I'm torn between fighting tears and stifling my emotions. Jerome was my boyfriend back in college. He found me a job as an exotic dancer when I had nothing.

Sharing my gains with me wasn't enough, he started giving me out to men to rape me for money. Money he didn't even share with me. I can never forget those moments of myself in a room with rapists.

“Why, Lucia?”

“Enjoy.” She walks off.

“I want to give a toast to my best friend, Violet,” Jerome says, his eyes, blazing with intention, training on me.

He's going to say something to stir chaos. Amongst the throng, I feel Ethan's raging eyes on me, but I don't bother to look at him. My eyes are rather on Jerome while I fight my emotions.

I'm sweating in an air-conditioned room, my heart hammering against my chest in fear and my clammy hands clench.

“Violet and I met each other at a party.”

Lie!

He smiles. A malicious smile to me. “She dressed like she came to snag some…”

“Thank you, Mr. Whatever-you-call-yourself. DJ, music,” Ethan says and in a fleeting moment, he's in front of me, his gaze impalpable and deadpan. He cups my chin in a romantic way. His façade is off-the-charts.

“You seem pretty worn-out when the night's still young. Kurt will take you home.”

Relief washes over me as I settle in the car, but the anxiousness in my stomach remains. I sigh with relief, and as we drive through the city, I kill my sorrows, drinking in the magnificent nighttime metropolis until we disappear into an uphill road that's lined with forest on both sides.

Upon getting to the mansion on the hill, Kurt stops in the driveway and a housekeeper takes me inside, leading me to a bedroom. A sweet scent wafts through my nostrils as she pushes the bedroom door open, but what I see makes me freeze in fear.

A room in a honeymoon standard with petals strewn on the bed and all over the floor. Ethan's not planning to consummate our fake marriage, is he? Because I won't let him.

That fear clings to me, even after I take my bath and bundle up a white satin robe I found on the bed, assuming it's for me.

The door opens and the lady walks in, hands in front of her. “Is there anything I can get for you, Mrs. Coleman?”

I stare at her. “Get me a knife.”