The Wrong Girl Burns Bright

"Stop lying!" Nora snapped, like someone just stepped on her last nerve. "If he knew, he'd be relieved the bride is me. I didn't say anything because I want it to be a surprise on the wedding day. So keep your mouth shut."

Cleo gave a faint smile. "Relax. Whatever games you two are playing, I'm not interested."

This time, she just wanted to be herself.

***

In the end, Cleo still got dragged to the reception.

The ballroom glittered—perfume, polished shoes, glasses clinking under crystal lights.

Cleo went bold in a red backless gown, a hard contrast to Nora's soft white dress.

When the opening dance started, Damian's gaze flicked between them—then he held his hand out to Nora.

Whispers rolled through the room.

"Isn't Cleo the fiancée? Why'd Harold bring the younger sister?"

"Isn't it obvious? He prefers Nora."

"Nora's graceful. Cleo's gorgeous, sure, but way too wild. Not exactly Joubert material..."

Damian acted like he didn't hear a thing. He looked at Cleo, voice flat. "You don't know this kind of waltz. Watch Nora. Learn something."

Then he led Nora onto the floor.

They fit—moving in perfect sync under the lights, pulling every eye in the room.

Cleo watched them spin. No jealousy—just annoyance.

She turned away, grabbed some food, then slipped out to the balcony for air.

The night air hit cold, easing the tightness in her chest.

Then footsteps.

Nora.

A faint flush still lingered from the dance, her eyes bright with triumph.

"Cleo, why're you out here alone? Couldn't stand watching us?" She stepped closer, pride barely hidden. "I told you—between us, anyone would pick the more proper one. Even Damian."

Her voice dropped, sharp and deliberate. "You're honestly pathetic. Your mom couldn't beat mine back then, and now you can't beat me. Guess it runs in your blood."

If it were anything else, Cleo might've let it slide.

But that crossed the line.

Her expression went ice-cold. No warning—her hand snapped out.

Smack.

Nora's head snapped to the side, a red handprint blooming across her cheek.

She clutched her face, staring at Cleo. "Y-You actually hit me?"

"So what?" Cleo stepped in, all sharp edges, her beauty gone ice-cold. "I could do worse."

She grabbed Nora by the collar and dragged her to the balcony edge.

"Who told you it was smart to provoke me alone?" Her voice cut clean. "You forget? I've been trained to fight since I was a kid. Taking down a fake like you is easy."

Nora glanced at the drop, her voice shaking. "Cleo! You wouldn't—"

"I'll show you what I would do."

Before she could finish, Cleo lifted her heel and kicked hard.

"Ah—!"

Nora's scream ripped through the night as she lost balance, slammed through the flimsy railing, and fell.