Jilted Bride: Marrying My Ex's Comatose Uncle

e Seraphina before t

ate avenue, trembling through the glass window

hed once, then went still, the gentle rocking motion gone. Ou

rom the driver's seat. "M

as less than a mile from Ironwood, the Beaumont estate, where she was supposed to marry Da

de the delicat

hing she sa

hat a bride was expected. The road ahead was filled with men and women dressed in mourning black, moving with slow, solemn steps to

e afternoon. Ironwood had decided

formed in Sera

prone to dramatics, peeked out from

voice trembling. "Duke Alistair Beaumont. The war

h every whispered discussion of the Beaumont family-powerful, feared, half-myth, half-warning. He

had reached Ironwo

e silence inside thick with unspoken anxiety. Seraphina's patience, already thin, f

ad, and their carriage crawled the fin

en fastened to the iron gates. The servants on the front steps wore black gloves and lowered eyes. Somewhere behind the stone w

nite stood waiting on the steps. Her black d

urmured, his voice tight with

Seraphina, a flicker of disdain

ked," Seraphina sa

r tardiness," the woman sn

te border estate. Raised among muddy fields, hunting dogs, and old rifles instead of music tutors and dancing masters. Useful with a bow, hopeless with poli

de. She was a rough country girl dre

will see you in your suite. Tr

l, her jaw tight. The air inside was heavy and oppressive. Servants moved silently, their faces etched with grief. There we

he bridal suite. Master Damien's rooms are connected through the inner door." She

pushed the

e grand marble fireplace had burned down to gray embers. A tray

shed over her. She had b

ous thumping of her heart. She smoothed her dress,

wa

nd from the adjoining su

la

with sickening familiarity. A sound that had

Her st

toward the connecting door, her feet silent on the thick carpet. Her hand tr

d through

chaise lounge. And in his arms, her stepsister, Isolde, clad in a scandalously thi

her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Tha

ce I secure the inheritance from my uncle's death, I'll annul the marriage. I'll

and against the cold wall to keep from collapsing. The air

. The betrayal.

ember of rage. She was not some lamb to be led to slaughter. She had fought her wa

m

ng table. There, laid out on a swath of velvet, was the bridal veil. An exquisite crea

l of he

ld fireplace. A box of mat

ll flame flickered to life, casting a demonic glow on her face. She touched

oft and delicate and suddenly unbearable, as if the whole Beaum

tation, she thrust it i

erupting in a whoosh of fire. The pe

scream. She

calmly tossed the flaming, melting ma

the room. It coiled towards the ceiling, w

h and magical, split t

d at the servants whose heads were now poking out of doorways

reamed, a raw, desperate so

ir

ning forgotten in the face of immediate danger. They burst i

a beautiful, t

it, the connecting d

a mess. Behind him, clutching at his arm, was Isolde, her silk

nded second,

e room

at Isolde's nightgown, then at Damien's bare throat, then at Seraphina standing alone in her untouched wedding dress. The truth passed through the room faster than the

iable, exploded in the fac

Her face was pale, her wedding dress pristine against the

riumphant light