Trapped in my Sister's Wedding Vows

Mireya stood alone in Ronan's private lounge, the city lights stretching beneath her like a field of distant stars. The encrypted financial records on her tablet confirmed what she had feared.

Veltrane Consortium.

The transactions were deliberate. Coordinated. Strategic.

Arabella had not run away.

She had been taken.

The confirmation from Ronan's intelligence network earlier that day removed all doubt. Satellite tracking, intercepted communications, and shell accounts tied directly to Veltrane pointed to a calculated abduction.

The lounge doors opened behind her.

"You're still working," Ronan said evenly.

Mireya turned to face him. "You said Veltrane has five directors."

"Yes."

"Which one ordered this?"

"They don't act alone," he replied. "They function as a council. If one falls, another absorbs control."

"And Arabella?"

"Leverage," he said.

The word settled heavily between them.

Then he added, "We're attempting an extraction tonight."

Hope surged through her.

"Where?"

"A flagged safehouse. We believe she may be there."

"I'm coming."

"No."

"She's my sister."

"And you are not trained for a Veltrane crossfire."

Mireya stepped closer. "Then don't shut me out. If you're risking your life, I deserve to know what you're walking into."

Ronan studied her before nodding once. He briefed her on the location, the risks, the possibility of resistance. He spoke clinically, but the tension in his jaw betrayed concern.

Hours later, he left with his team.

The mansion felt wrong after his departure.

Too quiet.

Staff avoided eye contact. Conversations stopped when she entered rooms. The air carried unease.

Then she saw it.

A maid exiting the restricted corridor leading to Ronan's private study.

That corridor required clearance.

The maid bowed and walked away quickly, hands trembling.

Mireya waited before entering the study. The room looked untouched until she noticed the secondary monitor.

A login screen.

Recently accessed.

Thirty two minutes earlier.

Her pulse quickened. Ronan had been preparing the rescue at that time.

Someone had accessed his encrypted system.

Someone inside the house.

She closed the screen carefully and left without alerting security.

If there was a leak, she didn't know who to trust.

Across the city, Arabella sat restrained in a private room when the door opened.

A composed woman entered, introducing herself as Director Mardison Varkos of Veltrane's Executive Council.

"You're valuable," Mardison said calmly.

"For ransom?" Arabella demanded.

"No. You were never the intended bride."

Arabella's confusion deepened.

"You were leverage," Mardison continued. "For the Ashcroft empire."

"For Ronan?"

Mardison's silence confirmed it.

Back at the Montclair estate that evening, Mireya attended a charity gala under Ronan's instructions to maintain appearances.

Andy Montclair approached her almost immediately.

"You're searching for your sister," he said lightly.

"She's missing," Mireya replied, watching him.

"Curiosity can be dangerous," he warned.

Before she could respond, her phone vibrated.

Commander Hale.

"The extraction failed," he said. "Veltrane deployed reinforcements. We were forced to retreat."

"And Ronan?"

"He's alive."

"And Arabella?"

"We never reached her."

The call ended.

Veltrane had anticipated the operation.

Mireya's thoughts flashed back to the accessed terminal. The trembling maid. The open study door.

An insider.

Someone had warned them.

Andy stepped onto the balcony behind her.

"Bad news?" he asked.

"Yes."

He studied her carefully.

"Then you should prepare yourself," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For discovering that sometimes the enemy isn't outside the walls."

Mireya turned toward the ballroom, her mind racing.

Veltrane was dangerous.

But betrayal inside the Ashcroft mansion was worse.

And now she knew the truth.

Arabella wasn't just a hostage.

She was a message.

And someone within Ronan's world was helping deliver it.