The wrong bride

Eleonor is looking in the mirror, admiring the wedding dress that has been chosen for her. Erica and Emily have chosen all the details of the wedding, as well as the guests and even her dress.

Despite not being able to decide a single flower arrangement, Eleonor looks stunning in that mermaid wedding dress. A long veil trailing on the floor is atop her bound hair. Delicate pearl jewelry adorns her ears and neck. And a soft make-up on her face highlights the beauty of her eyes that seemed more valuable than those jewels. Unfortunately, this was not the glow expected in a bride's eyes. They were tears that threatened to mess up the make-up. A sadness that could be attested to by anyone who looked close enough.

She's alone in her dressing room. Erica and Emily are too busy arranging all the guests in their proper places. The church is full. Over two hundred guests are present. Many of them, Eleonor was not even acquaintance. The Evans family took this opportunity to prove that the 'rumors' about their bankruptcy were nothing but lies. Since all the wedding expenses were paid by the Reviello family, they were not modest. Not one single member of Reviello’s family is present.

Eleonor hears knocking on the dressing room door. She doesn't bother to answer because she knows they will open it anyway. As expected, Erica opens the door.

“Are you prepared to become the wife of a criminal?”

Eleonor remains with her eyes locked on her figure reflected in the mirror. 

Silence.

“Somehow, that suits you. Your mother is a whore. It doesn't surprise me that you take such twisted paths.”

“Is he here yet?” Eleonor asks, looking at Erica through the reflection.

“The Mobster Rep?” The woman crosses her arms.

“Reviello.” The name escapes her lips almost in a whisper. “Reviello is already at the altar?”

Erica gives a cruel laugh. “Not yet.”

Eleonor sighs.

“Do you really think you will find a home beside him?” She asks with despite. “Even if you deserve each other, you won't be happy, Eleonor. Because you're a liar. This Reviello didn't ask for you, he asked for Emily. You're the wrong bride. He won't love you.”

A tear trickles down Eleonor's face, but she quickly dries it up.

Erica seems pleased to see her hurt.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Eleonor finally asks the question that has haunted her for so many years. After all, was it her fault that she was born? Her parent's mistake should not fall on her shoulders. It's too heavy a burden.

“You destroyed my life.” Erica says simply.

“Will walking up that altar and marrying in Emily's place be sufficient to compensate the damage my existence has done to you?”

Erica was silent, but her expression proven the contempt she felt.

“The point, Eleonor... It's that if you don't get up on that altar, the life you will destroy will be Emily's. And I'm sure you don't want that. Think about your sister. She's the only person in this world who loves a scum like you.

Eleonor shakes her head in silence.

Suddenly, Emily approaches and enters the dressing room. Upon seeing her sister in the wedding dress, a cheerful smile lands on her lips. She rushes to hug her. “You look so beautiful, Elle! Simply radiant!”

“Thank you, Emmy.”

“We need to go; all the guests are already in their seats. We need to start the ceremony! It's usually okay for the bride to be late, but I don't think it's wise... I mean, you're marrying a mobster...”

Eleonor then gives a weak smile.

She's getting married. The day when she will abandon the surname she fought so hard to deserve has finally arrived. The moment she will meet her future husband. The moment she will be forever enlaced with someone else.

She sighs deeply.

There is no turning back.

All the over two hundred guests stand up when the cathedral doors open. The bridal march begins to play. Everyone seems dazzled by the beauty of the bride. Smiles and eyes sparkles.

James stands beside Eleonor, leading her down to an... empty altar.

Eleonor's smile wilts as she notices that there was no one there but the priest. Walking with slow steps, she whispers to her father: “Where is Reviello?...”

James remains with a forced smile on his lips. He whispers between teeth: “You didn't expect a man like Reviello to be waiting at an altar... did you?”

Eleonor's heart skips a beat. A massive anguish settles in her chest. Where is he? She thinks, trying her hardest to keep her smile as she walked down the aisle.

“But the wedding...” Her voice almost fails.

“Don't worry, Mr. Reviello still want to get married.”

“Then where is he?”

They stop in front of the altar. Eleonor is on the verge of tears. The father courteously releases her hand, as if he had rehearsed the movements, and then proceed to his place.

The guests remained standing, looking at each other, apparently as confused as the bride herself. The priest's expression evinces pity. Looking closely, all the guests appear to be feeling compassion.

Eleonor's stomach aches.

Her eyes are wet. But she fights back the tears.

The wedding march begins to play again. Everyone looks toward the cathedral door.

And then a man in a blue suit begins to walk majestically across the peach-colored carpet. He carries a small velvet box in his hands.

Eleonor already knew well the intense eyes and black hair of the man who had accompanied her since all that madness began. She recognizes him immediately, and that's the trigger for the silent tears to stream down her face.

She is not standing in front of her future husband. That is his representative. 

Reviello didn't even make a point of attending his own wedding.

Asher stops beside her. Facing the bride's tears, remnants of pity also lurk in his dark eyes. But his impassive expression does not waver at the heartbreaking scene or the confused and surprised faces of the guests.

“I come on behalf of Mr. Reviello who, due to an unfortunate unforeseen event, was unable to attend his most splendid day.” Asher says loudly so that everyone can hear him. “But his love for Miss Evans is so outstanding, and his desire to make her his wife is so deep, that he cannot tolerate the idea of postponing this wedding.”

Eleonor, although she had tears streaming down her face, did not maintain a desolate expression. On the contrary, she looked extremely numb.

Asher turns to the bride, “He asked me to give it to you as a token of his sorrow.”

He opens the velvet box and reveals a gold white ring with a huge drop-shaped diamond and several other smaller diamonds around the thin hoop. The guests sigh before the jewel. Erica nearly chokes. Emily's eyes glitter at the piece that is more beautiful and expensive than the price of all her jewelry put together.

“Will Miss Evans allow me?”

Passing the bouquet to her right hand, she extends her left hand to Asher, who slides the ring delicately down her finger.

“In the presence of all and God's, I, Asher Samuel Dillard, official representative under the authority of the husband's, state that this woman is Giovanni Reviello's wife. From this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do them part. He will love, honor and cherish her all the days of his life. According to this statement, I pledge thee my solemn vow in the name of Giovanni Reviello and his honor.”

Whispering could be heard from the altar. No one had ever heard a vow like that, especially one made in the name of another person. Gradually, the pity became entertainment. The guests began to like the situation.

Eleonor remains silent, listening to the mumbling of her guests. Asher is looking at her expectantly. What on earth does he want her to do? The words have died on her tongue.

Eleonor's life as a bastard daughter was never easy. She has known humiliation in various shape and intensities. But she never, never felt as humiliated as she did at this moment. And worst of all, the person responsible for such disappointment is none other than the person she will have to swear to love.

She doesn't know how long she remained silent, but the tears dried on her face.

“In the presence of all and God's, I state that this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part, Giovanni Reviello will be my husband. I will love, honor and cherish him all the days of my life.”

Giovanni Reviello... this is the first time she has heard his whole name.

She never imagined that a name could cause her so much anger... so much despair.

Swear to love him? Another one for her list of lies.

Asher looks expectantly at the priest who, confused, finalizes the ceremony: “I now pronounce them husband and wife...”