My Unwanted Wife Is A Top Assassin

The wedding day felt like a state funeral.

Eliza sat before a gilded mirror in a dressing room at the Malone estate. The room was opulent, suffocating in its luxury. A makeup artist worked diligently, applying layers of foundation like spackle over a crumbling wall. It couldn't hide the acne, but it created the illusion of a smooth surface.

In the reflection, a stranger stared back. A woman in a white dress that was far too expensive for the body it contained.

The door opened and her cousin, Hephzibah Pruitt, glided in. She was one of the bridesmaids, dressed in a pale gold gown that highlighted her slim figure and sun-kissed skin. Her smile was bright, brittle, and utterly fake.

"Eliza, honey. You look... presentable," she said, her eyes doing a quick, dismissive scan. "Who would have thought? A girl from the trailer park, landing Julian Malone."

Eliza didn't respond. She simply watched her cousin in the mirror. Nyx's training kicked in, analyzing the micro-expressions. The slight tremor in the corner of Hephzibah's smile. The way her eyes darted towards the door. She was nervous. And malicious.

"The makeup artist can take a break," Hephzibah announced, waving a dismissive hand. "I have a special gift for the bride."

Once they were alone, Hephzibah produced a small, exquisitely wrapped box. She opened it to reveal a limited-edition pressed powder compact.

"Every bride needs a little touch-up," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "Let me do it for you. To make you absolutely radiant."

She opened the compact. As the lid lifted, no unusual scent emerged, only the cloying floral perfume of the powder. But Nyx's senses, trained to perceive the imperceptible, detected a subtle shift in the air pressure around the compact, a faint shimmer of airborne particles under the light that betrayed the presence of a weaponized agent. It was BZ, an odorless military-grade hallucinogen designed to be undetectable to the common person.

The plan was simple. Make her have a psychotic break at the altar. Turn the sham wedding into a complete circus, cementing her as a lunatic in the eyes of the world.

Eliza let a slow, greedy smile spread across her face, a perfect imitation of the girl she was supposed to be. "Oh, wow. That's so expensive. For me?"

She took the compact, her fingers brushing against Hephzibah's.

A flicker of triumphant contempt crossed her cousin's face. "Of course, honey. Only the best for you today."

Hephzibah took the powder puff, dabbing it generously. She leaned in, her smile widening as she brought the puff towards Eliza's cheek.

In that instant, Eliza moved.

Her hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around Hephzibah's wrist like a steel clamp. The motion was a blur, impossibly fast for a body of her size.

Hephzibah gasped, a yelp of pain escaping her lips. The powder puff fell from her nerveless fingers.

"What are you doing?" she stammered, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

Eliza smiled, but it was Nyx's smile. Cold, sharp, and devoid of all warmth. "A gift this nice," she said, her voice a low, chilling whisper, "it would be a shame for you not to try it first, cousin."

With a smooth, powerful twist, she turned Hephzibah's hand back on itself. She picked up the powder puff with her other hand and, before her cousin could scream, pressed it firmly against Hephzibah's powdered cheek, smearing a thick, chalky white streak across her skin.

The door swung open again. Hephzibah's mother, Temperance, swept in with a gaggle of other relatives, their faces arranged in practiced, polite smiles.

The smiles vanished.

They saw Eliza, the trailer park girl, gripping a whimpering Hephzibah's wrist, her face a mask of what looked like pure aggression.

"What is the meaning of this?" Temperance shrieked, rushing forward. She began clawing at Eliza's arm. "You ungrateful lunatic! How dare you attack my daughter after she was kind enough to help you!"

Eliza let go, stumbling back as if pushed. She arranged her face into an expression of fear and confusion, playing the part of the overwhelmed, bullied girl.

"She's crazy!" Hephzibah sobbed, running to her mother. "She just attacked me for no reason!"

A chorus of accusations filled the room. "Violent." "Trash." "She doesn't deserve to be here."

Eliza stood silently and watched.

Then, it began.

Hephzibah's eyes went glassy. A slow, silly grin spread across her face. She giggled. Then she pointed a shaking finger at a gilded mirror.

"The walls," she whispered, her voice filled with awe and terror. "The walls are crawling with snakes."

The drug had taken hold.

The room fell silent. Hephzibah began to scream, tearing at the bodice of her bridesmaid dress, babbling about spiders in her hair. She shoved her own mother away, calling her a monster with a thousand eyes.

It was a complete psychotic breakdown, happening in real-time.

Eliza calmly bent down and picked up the fallen powder compact. She looked at Temperance, whose face had drained of all color. The woman understood. She understood what her daughter had tried to do, and she understood the terrifying precision of Eliza's response.

Eliza walked over to the estate's head of security, who had been drawn by the commotion. She handed him the compact.

"I think," she said, her voice perfectly level, "you should have this tested."

She turned back to the mirror, adjusted a stray piece of hair, and smoothed the front of her wedding dress. When she looked up, every person in the room was staring at her. The disdain was gone. In its place was a new, raw, and unmistakable emotion.

Fear.