After the unsettling confrontation with Dylan, Iris stormed back to her room, her footsteps echoing down the cold marble hallway. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, she exhaled sharply, pressing her back against the wall. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within her—frustration, sorrow, disbelief. Her chest felt tight, like the air itself refused to cooperate.
Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them back. No. Not now. Not again.
She wanted to run. To escape the suffocating grandeur of this place, the people, the mystery, and especially Dylan. But something in her gut stopped her—his words echoed in her mind:
“If you leave, you’ll die.”
He hadn’t said it was a threat. It sounded like a terrifying truth. And somehow, she felt it too, like his warning had rooted itself somewhere deep in her bones. A part of her wished he was lying. The other part feared he wasn’t.
Just then, a soft knock disrupted her thoughts.
Iris straightened, wiped her damp cheeks quickly, and walked over to the door. As it creaked open, she was met with the sight of two incredibly fashionable young women, both strikingly beautiful in different ways. One wore a warm smile that immediately put Iris a little at ease. The other, however, stood stiffly with her arms crossed, her eyes scanning Iris like she was sizing up an unwanted guest.
“Iris! Finally! Oh my god, you’re real!” the cheerful girl said, and before Iris could respond, she was wrapped in an unexpected embrace. “I’m Nina ,” she added mid-hug, “and I’ve been dying to meet you.”
Iris stood frozen for a second, overwhelmed by the sudden closeness. Nina smelled faintly of vanilla and orchids, and her embrace felt genuine. Like someone welcoming a long-lost friend.
“I…hi,” Iris murmured, still trying to process everything.
Behind Nina, the other girl rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe she’s still here,” she muttered under her breath, clearly not caring if Iris heard her.
“Georgina,” Nina chided gently, giving her a warning look. “Come on. Iris is a friend now. You can try to be civil.”
Georgina huffed dramatically and thrust a neatly wrapped box into Iris’s hands without a word, then turned on her heel and walked away.
Nina sighed. “Don’t mind her. She’s…complicated.”
Iris looked down at the box in her hands, surprised by its weight. She opened it carefully and gasped. Nestled inside was an exquisite hairpin—delicate white pearls spiraling around a rare, glimmering diamond. The craftsmanship was unlike anything she’d ever seen.
“It’s beautiful,” Iris whispered.
Nina smiled. “It’s a family heirloom. It belonged to our mother. And now…it’s yours.”
Iris blinked, stunned. “Wait… your mother?”
Nina nodded. “We’re half-sisters. Dylan and I share the same father but have different mothers. He’s always treated me like his own blood. I’ve known him all my life.”
The revelation struck Iris like a jolt. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
“And Georgina?” Iris finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Nina glanced toward the hallway Georgina had disappeared into. “She’s a distant relative. Her family’s been close to ours for generations. She’s not a bad person, really. Just… intense. And she’s had a massive crush on Dylan since we were kids, so… seeing you here? Yeah. Not easy for her.”
Iris let out a soft, ironic laugh. “I get it. It must suck to attend the wedding of the guy you’ve been hopelessly in love with.”
Nina chuckled too, shaking her head. “You’re funny. And surprisingly calm, considering everything.”
“‘Calm’ is definitely not the word I’d use,” Iris admitted, running a hand through her hair. “I’m just… processing.”
Nina took a step closer and placed a comforting hand on Iris’s arm. “I know this is all overwhelming. You didn’t choose this, and I don’t expect you to play the perfect bride. But I promise you, Iris—Dylan wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. Even if he doesn't say it, he’s protecting you in his own complicated way.”
Iris looked down, conflicted.
Nina gently nudged her shoulder. “Now, how about we get you ready? The ceremony prep’s running late, and if we don’t hurry, Georgina’s going to have another meltdown.”
Iris hesitated. “I’m sorry, Nina. I don’t think I’m ready… for any of this.”
“I know,” Nina said softly, her voice understanding. “But just for now… let me help you get through today. We can figure out the rest together, okay?”
There was something about Nina’s sincerity that made Iris nod, even if she still felt like the ground beneath her feet was about to collapse.
“Okay,” she whispered.
And with that, Nina gently led her to the ornate wardrobe, ready to dress her not just for a wedding—but for the beginning of something she didn’t fully understand yet.
Nina had insisted on helping Iris prepare, brushing through her hair with practiced hands and styling it into soft waves pinned with the pearled hairpin—the one that shimmered like moonlight and carried generations of unspoken stories. Her makeup was subtle, enhancing the natural softness of her features. When she stepped back, even Nina was breathless.
“You look… divine,” she whispered. “Like someone out of a painting.”
Iris stood in front of the ornate mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back. The ivory gown fit her like it had been made with her in mind—off-shoulder lace, a flowing train, and delicate embroidery that danced in the candlelight. For a fleeting moment, she forgot the confusion, the weight of everything.
Until—
“Iris,” a soft voice called from the doorway.
She turned.
Her mother stood there, trembling, her eyes instantly brimming with tears. Behind her, Mr. Rowland’s expression was unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes.
Mrs. Rowland brought a shaky hand to her lips. “You look… like a dream,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “My little girl… all grown up.”
Iris rushed into her mother’s arms, and the two of them held each other tightly. Silent sobs shook them both as Mrs. Rowland clung to her daughter like she was about to vanish.
“I’m sorry,” her mother murmured into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Iris.”
Iris pulled back, confused, her eyes flickering between both parents.
Nina, sensing the weight of the moment, gave a small nod. “I’ll… go check the arrangements.” And with that, she slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.
Mr. Rowland took a slow breath, stepping forward. “Iris, there’s something you need to know. Something we should have told you sooner.”
Iris’s stomach twisted. “What is it?”
He exchanged a quick glance with his wife, who gave him a tight, tearful nod.
“This marriage... it was arranged long ago,” Mr. Rowland said. “A promise between the Rowland and Erickson families. One that cannot be broken. The first daughter born in the Rowland bloodline must be wed to the heir of the Erickson family. That is you, Iris.”
Iris blinked, the words sinking like stones in her chest. “An arranged marriage? Are you serious? You kept this from me my entire life?”
“We were trying to protect you,” her mother whispered. “We hoped… we prayed that somehow it would never come to pass.”
“But it did,” her father said quietly. “And now, we must honor it.”
Iris shook her head, backing away. “No. No, this doesn’t make sense. This is insane. You’re marrying me off like some kind of... pawn?”
Mrs. Rowland suddenly stepped forward, her voice rising with emotion. “Tell her the whole truth, Henry. Stop protecting her now—it’s too late for that!”
Iris’s eyes darted to her father. “What truth?”
He hesitated. Then finally spoke.
“Mr. Dylan Erickson… is a vampire.”
For a heartbeat, everything went still. Then—
“What?” Iris let out a short, stunned laugh. “Seriously? First a surprise wedding, now a supernatural identity crisis? What next—am I secretly a witch?”
“This isn’t a joke,” her mother said, her voice cracking. “We’ve seen what he is. We’ve seen what they are.”
Her father nodded solemnly. “We didn’t believe it at first either, Iris. But it’s true. He’s not human. Neither are the ones around him.”
Iris wanted to deny it, to scream and call them both crazy. But they weren’t joking. There was no trace of amusement in their eyes—only fear. And then came the proof—photographs, a family crest, an old journal from her grandfather filled with notes, sketches, and a terrifying description of the Erickson lineage.
Her legs buckled as the weight of truth settled in.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “I’m marrying a vampire.”
Mrs. Rowland knelt beside her. “Iris, sweetheart… I didn’t want this life for you.”
Iris’s hands trembled in her lap. Her mind raced, heart pounding like war drums in her chest.
“What happens now?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
Before either parent could answer, a loud knock echoed through the chamber door.
A cold voice followed.
“Iris… it’s time.”
She looked up—toward the door, toward the unknown.
And for the first time, she felt real fear.
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