Svyatoslav

The morning that should have been the happiest of all turned to dust. You stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching your veil. Lying on the bed, in the arms of your fiancé, Artem, lay your twin sister, Yana.

“It’s not that you...” Artem began, jumping up. “Shut up,” you interrupted in a dead voice. “Just shut up.”

An hour later, you were sitting in the dim light of a bar. Your white dress, stained at the hem, seemed a mockery. Your third shot of something scalding sat before you. The world was spinning.

"Isn't it too much for a bride to be alone?" a low, velvety voice sounded nearby.

You turned around. A man in a perfectly tailored suit sat next to you. His gaze was cold but attentive.

“What business is it of yours?” you snapped. “Do you want to give a lecture?”

"I'd like to propose a deal," he said, sliding a folder toward you that, oddly enough, was already lying on the counter. "My family demands that I get married by the end of the week. You look like you need to run away from this life."

You smiled bitterly, reading the lines through a veil of tears. "Lifetime contract... full security... no claims."

"Is this a joke?" you whispered.

"This is salvation," the stranger snapped. "Sign this, and we'll be out of here in an hour."

You took the pen with a trembling hand. Anger at Artyom and your sister outweighed your fear. You signed with a flourish, unaware that in that moment, your life was forever no longer yours.