I Crashed the Billionaire's Wedding With My Sister's Coffin

My sister and I were twin hex maidens.

I was born rotten—killing, skinning, every evil thing there was to do, I'd done it.

But my sister was gentle by nature, kindhearted to her core. Three years ago, she married into the Sanchez family, the wealthiest house in the country.

I never imagined the next time I'd see her, she'd be carried back to the Blackthorn Highlands by an undertaker.

She was in a splintered coffin. Every fingernail torn off. Not a single patch of unbroken skin on her body.

Elias Mercer looked at me, and something like pity crossed his face.

“Before she died, Maureen Manning begged me to pass you a message. She said no matter what, don't go after the Sanchez family.”

“They're not the kind of people someone like us can afford to cross.”

I lowered my head, numb, staring at my sister's shattered body. My eyes burned red.

Elias sighed, turned to leave, muttering as he went.

“Such a shame. Such a good girl, tortured to death by Judith Henson.”

“I heard that husband of hers is marrying Judith next month……”

I lifted my eyes, slowly. My pupils flooded a vivid, demonic red.

So that was how they'd treated my sister.

On the day of Wilfred Sanchez and Judith Henson's wedding, I carried the coffin on my back all the way to the ceremony.

I dropped it on the ground and spoke, voice flat.

“There won't be any vows today.”

“First, you kneel to my sister.”

……

I hadn't spoken loudly, but every head in the room turned toward me.

A woman guest nearby laughed first.

“Who is that? Some hick from the middle of nowhere, showing up to Mr. Sanchez's wedding dressed like that.”

“No idea. Looks like she's from out of town. Look at those cloth shoes. God, how embarrassing.”

I looked down at my shoes.

Black cloth uppers, stitches tight and even, a small white camellia embroidered on each toe.

I'd kept this pair for three years. Today was the first time I'd worn them.

They were spotless. Not a speck of dirt.

Maureen made them for me. I could never bring myself to get them dirty.

Wilfred Sanchez frowned at me, his face full of impatience.

I knew that expression well.

I'd swallowed Maureen's lifebound hex, and fragments of her memories had passed into me.

The very first day she married into the Sanchez household, Judith Henson showed up.

Said her family had run into trouble and she needed somewhere to stay for a while.

Maureen smiled and agreed, then went and tidied a room for Judith herself.

Three days later, my sister came downstairs. Judith was waiting at the bottom of the staircase and stuck out her foot on purpose.

Maureen tumbled all the way down. Her forehead split open, blood running down the bridge of her nose.

Wilfred heard the commotion and came rushing out of his study, only to tear into my sister instead.

“Judith's health is fragile. Can't you watch where you're going? What if you'd knocked into her?”

Then there was the worst time. Judith's cat died. She broke down sobbing, pointed at Maureen, and said she'd used hexcraft to kill it.

Wilfred had my sister locked in the walk-in freezer. Three days. Three nights.

By the time she was nearly frozen to death, she'd raked the door apart with her bare hands. Nine of her ten fingers were shattered down to the bone.

She wept and told herself it was only because Wilfred pitied Judith. Once Judith got better, everything would be fine.

But Judith never got better.

Every time Wilfred showed Maureen the slightest bit of kindness, Judith collapsed. Coughing. Vomiting blood. Fainting. Always something new.

And every time, Wilfred found a fresh way to punish my sister, had people teach her to “behave” again and again.

Three years. That was how Maureen lived.

Wilfred's voice pulled me back from the memories. He was frowning, irritation plain on his face.

“Maureen Manning.”

“Today is mine and Judith's wedding. Cut the occult nonsense. You hauled a coffin in here—are you trying to upset Judith on purpose?”