Chapter One. Odette.
Odette stood in front of a full-length mirror in the dressing room of her family’s Manor, inspecting her image, and twisting the feathery fabric of her wedding dress in her hands, twirling the skirts softly from one side to the other, smiling to herself. The dress was made of satin, it felt smooth and airy on her skin. It was a Cinderella gown with fitted bodice, with layered skirts and full ball gown skirt, the sleeves were mid-length and puffy, and a sash illuminated her middle. It was heavily inspired by the outfits of ballet dancers, and Odette appreciated it gravely. The makeup was light and soft, with nude lipstick and rosy cheeks, only the smoky eyes a bit darker, making her gray-green eyes pop. Odette smiled at what she saw, fixing up her veil that was attached to the intricate gold tiara on her head.
The door opened, and the head of Odette’s sister-in-law Devika appeared – she was the creator of this magnificent dress and all that came with it. Devika was wearing a dark purple dress that made her brown skin even more soft and luscious than it usually was, her black long her fell in elegant waves on her shoulders. She was married to Odette’s older brother, who was the middle son, Cedric. Devika opened her mouth in awe upon witnessing Odette.
“Oh my god…” she whispered. “You look absolutely hypnotizing…”
Odette smiled. “You look positively dashing yourself,” she added.
Devika pulled up a white semi-transparent train that was to be attached to the back of the skirt of her dress and trail after her as she walked down the aisle. When everything was fixed, both women stared at the mirror, admiring Devika’s work.
“They’re already waiting for the introductory part,” Devika said. “I assume it won’t take long, but you never know with the Irish.”
Odette nodded – this was her sign to get going.
Her Papa was waiting outside the dressing room and his eyes widened the same way when he saw her. “Oh, ma cherie,” her father whispered, taking her hands in his and looking her up and down. “You look like a princess, ma petite…”
“Thank you, Papa,” Odette said. “Is everyone already here?”
“Declan’s family is already here. Tristan managed to come but I don’t think Dominque will make it – you know how he is.”
Meeting the friends and family of the groom for the bride before the official ceremony was an ancient Irish tradition that the Irish Americans were keen on upkeeping. Odette had nothing against it, especially because she had her own conditions – the wedding were to be held at the Catholic church because Odette was a loyal practicing catholic, ever since that happening eight years ago. Although Declan wasn’t Catholic and wasn’t even a man of faith, he agreed. So Odette had to do her part before it all.
It wasn’t like she was meeting Declan’s parents and friends for the first time. In the past two months, that’s how long their engagement lasted, she had at least fifteen dinners at their home, familiarizing herself not only with what her future home and family was like, but also getting to know her husband-to-be. She could count the hours she spent alone with Declan on her fingers, and she could tell they still didn’t know each other very well, but that was the thing about arranged consigliere marriages – even if the spouses didn’t know each other well before hand, they usually managed to work out pretty nicely. That’s how it was with Odette’s parents, and that’s how she believed it would be for her – she always knew she was going to marry someone of her father’s choosing, and she trusted him more than anyone else in the entire world.
She had no reason to be scared to meet Declan’s family. But she still felt nervous.
The ball room of the Leblanc Manor was now full of people – men, women, and children – wearing wedding attire, appreciating the architecture of the house, chatting and laughing softly, and, most importantly, waiting for the bride to show up.
Odette walked through the lobby holding on to her father’s arm and with her sister-in-law by her side.
She almost got knocked off her feet when her brother Cedric appeared out of nowhere, shouting, “There’s my beautiful sister!” and almost jumped to hug her, but Devika stopped him.
“Cedric, the dress!” Devika hissed. “Don’t touch it!”
“Alright, alright,” he complied, grinning at Odette. “It’s lovely to see you.”
Odette rolled her eyes. “You literally saw me two hours ago,” she said.
“I still missed you.”
As of now, Odette was closest to Cedric from all of her three brothers and the reason for that was very simple – he and Devika lived together with Papa and her at the Manor, while the oldest brother Dominque moved to the countryside six months ago with his pregnant wife Grace and their five-year-old son Gabriel. Grace was blind, and even if Dominique would never admit that, he felt guilty for it and he wanted to keep his family as far away from mafia business as he could, at least until his daughter was born and he could see them grow without being scared of the getting kidnapped every day. Odette understood his reasons, but she was still sorry to see him go.
Odette’s youngest older brother Tristan was studying law in the Bologna University in France, their home country, so he came back to the US quite rarely. Fortunately, this was one of those times.
“If you’re not that happy to see me, maybe you’ll be happy to see your other brother,” Cedric said.
Cedric moved to the side and a frame of her other brother came to view.
“Tristan!” Odette exclaimed and Tristan hugged her; he was careful with the dress and the veil, so Devika didn’t beat him away. “You came!”
“I couldn’t have missed it,” Tristan said seriously. His face was grim as always, his eyebrows drawn together, this unsatisfied expression was a constant on his face, but it didn’t fit with the rest of the guests’ mood. Odette knew exactly why. “Although I still don’t consider arranged marriages to be ethical, and I don’t support this decision.”
Odette sighed. “Oh, Tristan, this was my choice…”
“But it wasn’t your idea,” her brother said, glaring at their father.
She felt Papa tense, although he remained calm. “You’re too young to understand, son,” Papa began.
“This is for the family,” Odette said quietly. “How are your studies?” she added, wanting to change the topic before it escalated further.
Tristan wasn’t letting this go that easily. “Perfectly fine,” he said. “You should be studying something useful too in this time of your life, not becoming a housewife to the Irish,” he sneered.
Odette gathered her strength not to lash out this very moment. “For your information, I have no wish to study. All I want to do is ballet and I will be perfectly capable of dancing even after I’m married.”
“Is that really the best you can ask you sister on her wedding day?” Papa asked angrily. “Is that all you can offer on the happiest day of her life?”
Tristan shrugged. “Weddings are overrated.”
Their conversation died there.
Odette prayed for Tristan to find his peace of mind.
Then she spent another half an hour to speak with Declan’s friends, some of whom she had never spoken to before. They were polite and seemed loyal, which is all one might one from a friend.
Finally, it came Declan’s parents turn. His mother Saoirse was a tall red-haired woman with elegant manners; she complimented Odette’s dress and seemed genuinely joyous to be celebrating her son’s wedding. The father, Callum, was a bit old but still quite good looking.
One sentence from him, and Odette’s whole carefully curated reality shattered.
“Well, love, you remind me so much of you mother in this dress – she was just as beautiful on her wedding day.” His voice was happy and full of excitement, but the words made Odette’s skin crawl. “Isn’t that right, Edoardo?” Callum asked her father.
Odette tensed. Her face blanked, turning into a horrified expression. The champagne flute in her hand trembled until her fingers released it and the glass shattered on the floor.
Papa sensed her unease and rushed to save the situation. “Oh, I don’t know, it was such a long time ago, I can barely recall….”
But the damage was already done. Odette’s whole body started shaking.
Saoirse looked at her worryingly. “Is everything alright, darling?”
Odette nodded but convinced nobody.
“It’s just her nerves,” Papa said. “She only needs some fresh air.”
Declan’s parents moved away to give her some space, but still cast her strange looks.
“They will know,” Odette whispered under her breath so only her father could hear. “They will know I’m not right, they will realize there’s something wrong with me, that I’m broken, and then, Declan will ask for divorce—” she blurted out.
“Breathe, ma cherie,” Papa told her. “And don’t speak nonsense. You are not broken. You’re a magnificent and bright young woman, and anyone who doubts it are worthless sham. You’ve just been through horrible things no child should ever go through. But you are not worse than any if them; you are better.”
She listened to the words, but barely understood their meaning.
“Breathe, Odette,” came a voice from the other side. Tristan took her hand in his softly, urging her to focus. “
She always had the full support of her Papa and brothers, and every year their family grew bigger and even more loveable, but now she’ll have to be with another family, one that might not be that understanding…
But she couldn’t think these things. She agreed to get married, and she will have to do her best to fit in with the sane people.
By the time her breathing normalized, it was time to leave for Church.
She drove in the white limo together with Devika and Saoirse, and when they arrived, the Church was ready, everybody was waiting for her.
Papa held her firmly when taking her down the aisle, and she didn’t even stumble once. Declan watched her, smiling widely, his white tuxedo seemed perfect, and his ginger hair were combed nicely. Odette noticed his hands shaking slightly, and she felt better she wasn’t alone feeling anxious.
They reached the end of the aisle, and Papa gave Odette’s hand to Declan. They now stood in front of the other, smiling softly and a bit shyly, like they were school kids and not full grown adults.
The Catholic priest was about to begin the ceremony when the giant door of the Church opened, and a man ran through them, breathing heavily.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said under his breath, smiling at Odette.
Her heart warmed at the sight of her oldest brother Dominique taking his seat next to the rest of her family.
The priest began the ceremony speaking of the holiness of marriage in God’s eyes and the importance of such intimate alliance. After a long speech the priest encouraged them to say their vows which Odette had written a few weeks before and memorized by heart.
The final part came if a bit too soon. The priest spoke, “Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Silence fell, light-hearted at first, heavy afterward. Nobody objected. Declan was still smiling but his face wobbled, as if warning of upcoming danger.
The priest opened his mouth to finish binding them for eternity, a sound of a fired shotgun reverberated through the space, shocking everyone there. Declan frowned and Odette felt confused. And then, the true hell began.
More shots echoed through the church, mingling with the screams of the frightened wedding guests. It was unclear where they were coming from, and all Odette could do when about ten bullets ripped through Declan’s body, painting his white tuxedo red, was watch in horror. Declan’s body slumped to the ground, a look of utter shock forever engraved on his face.
Odette couldn’t move. She felt the bullets whoosh around her, none of the hitting her body, she heard the screams and the cries and the never-ending shooting, but all of it seemed so far away.
Then, a huge body hit her, forcing her to the ground.
“Odette, are you okay?” her brother Dominique asked, his familiar voice dragging her out of the trance.
“Yes,” Odette swallowed. “Declan, he—”
She was about to tell him that Declan was dead, although everybody knew it, everybody saw it with their own eyes. But then, the shooting was over, and when Odette turned her head to the side, she saw an image she never wanted her witness – her Papa, her strong, loving Papa was lying in a pool of his own blood near the altar of the Church, his whole body convulsing.
“Papa!” Odette screamed, getting away from Dominque and running to kneel by her father. She grabbed his dead-cold hand and he looked at her with unseeing eyes. “Papa, please… Hold on… You’re going to be alright…” she sobbed.
Her Papa opened his mouth to say something, his last words on this Earth, but now words came out, only a spill of blood.
He died, and Odette screamed, her white wedding dress drowning in the blood of her beloved.
