Yes. That was Seraphina. She always came back. She couldn’t leave me. She never could.
Helena, still clutching her veil, pressed closer. Her voice shook, dripping with desperation. “Dominic, are you sure? Should we… maybe postpone the ceremony? What if—”
I grabbed her wrist, forcing her gaze to mine. “No. We go on. This wedding will happen. You are mine, Helena. Nothing—nothing—will stop it.”
She nodded weakly, though her eyes gleamed with a satisfaction she tried to hide.
As she left to finish preparing, I snapped at my men. “Find her. Now. If Seraphina is faking her death, if she thinks she can humiliate me on my wedding day—punish her. Teach her what happens when she mocks me.”
The butler hesitated, voice trembling. “But… sir…”
“No!” I barked. My hands trembled, rage masking fear. “I will not accept it. She is not dead. This wedding will continue.”
And then the police butt in again. “You’ll have to come with us. We have the warrant—”
I spun to my butler, fury burning through me. “Settle it. Pay them. Now. No one—no one—ruins this wedding. Not Seraphina, not the police, not anyone.”