Night came, and as expected, Emelia was ready. She walked down the stairs, joining hands with the awaiting hands that held hers at the foot of the stairs.
"Mrs. Fredrick," a little whimper escaped her throat, listening to the servants address her as such.
She held her clutch, not showing her nervousness as they rode away. Pulling up into the grand halls where she had been barely a few days ago for her wedding gave her multiple feelings.
Emelia felt the fresh breeze blow through her braided hair, perfecting it against her back. His hands reached out to her, and without a second thought, she placed her glove-covered hands onto his. Stepping into the giant hall, every eye turns to the arriving couple.
Wearing an exquisite black evening gown that captures and enchants her beauty, Emelia slowly glides by her husband's side.
The sleep silhouette gracefully hugs her curves with a daring side slit, adding a touch of bold sophistication as she makes a striking entrance by her man's side.
Frederick Camfrey held on tight to his bride. He has always been mysterious, just like always, and he was covered in black. His shoulder-length hair held to the back smoothly, perfectly outlining his handsomeness and charisma in a stylish black three-piece coat, accompanied by accessories to match his wife's.
From a distance, they could spot the newly married couple as they approached them. Emelia was in no mood to see Mark so soon, but it was not her calling. Holding on tight to the sleeves of her husband, Fredrick, carefully gives her hand a small pat, assuring her all was good.
"Aren't you trying too hard to get attention?" Clair Anderson nastily spat as they joined the newly arriving couple. Emelia was not surprised by the hostility.
"Father," Fred greeted the alpha, who acknowledged him with a simple nod, not paying attention to the women. Everyone suddenly felt the rising tension within the hall as little get-togethers settled around.
"I thought you wouldn't make it, brother," Mark comments, sliding his hands off his bride and guiding his brother to a more secluded part of the hall.
Emelia could see the hesitation in Fredrick's eyes, but she smiled, taking her hands off him and letting him walk away, followed by the alpha and Luna.
The ceremony had long begun. Clair and Mark were now married, and he had already been named the next alpha.
"You weren't invited." Emelia turned to the gawking voice by her side. Clair was not worth her time and effort for a newly wedded bride to cheat, as her ex, Emelia, did not feel cheated or left out.
"Why?" Emelia asked, placing her clutch on the table and helping herself to a seat. Her legs hurt from standing so much, and not sleeping in the past forty-eight hours wasn't helping either.
"You know I wouldn't invite you to my wedding, so why did you come?" Clair demanded. Emelia flags down a waiter, who serves her a glass of wine.
"We're married to brothers; if you could be at my wedding, why can't I be at yours?" Emelia asked casually, seeing her wine. Clair did not appreciate her relaxed nature and calm demeanor.
"Yeah, says the woman who married her mate's brother. She scoffs audibly enough for others to hear. Emelia could see right through her little scheme, but it did not bother her; she was as calm as a toad waiting its turn.
"Come on… Explain how you're not a slut." Clair demanded her voice only grow by the second. Emelia still held on to her drink, dismissing the eyes of the unwanted guest now stationed on her. She circulates her wine, staring into it as it forms tiny bubbles.
"Isn't she shameless? She married the brother of her mate… How do we know they had not been having an affair before the engagement?" A voice asked within the crowd, and just like the wild harmattan fire, it spread so quickly with slutty narratives on everyone's mouth.
"I married the brother of my mate…. Why can't I?" Emelia asked, standing up and meeting with Clair Anderson, who was on her feet.
"Why can't I marry him when my mate had a woman on the side? Why should he be the only one to cheat on me, and I am not allowed? Clair swallowed a huge lump.
"He only asked for my hand after you got married. If you hadn't rejected him… he wouldn't have come for me." Emelia watched the lying bitch lie so effortlessly.
"Oh? Was it after or before you had given your pride of womanhood to him? I know for a fact you couldn't have been with him on long occasions these past two days, as the preparations were ongoing, so tell me, Clair, did you lose your pureness to him two days ago or before then?" Clair Anderson tried stepping back, but Emeilia held onto her hand. Her hands cold, but steady.
"Why are you running away from the fire you started? Come, let's dance to your tune," she whispers so close to her ear, sending shivers down Claire's spine.
Clair watched the crowd she had gathered now cast nasty glances at her; her wedding was not only proof of it, but Emelia's words only made it believable.
"For a while, I had thought the ritual marriage was only chosen due to the urgency of the union; now it makes even more sense." Whispering echoed through the hall, casting nasty glances at Clair, who held on hard to the hem of her dress, her face so red it could be seen even in dim lights.
"A mistress you have been, and a second option you shall remain." Emelia turned to the side, noticing her husband walking towards her. His jaw ticked as he approached, but he said nothing.
He was just in time; she gently picked up her clutch, dropped the wine glass on the table, and stepped away. Clair sneers, placing her heels over Emelia's dress as she steps forward. The crowd heard a ripping sound, and everything froze…