The Wedding Was Off the Moment I Saw the Coffins

I had just returned to California from the Dawnspire Flight Test Facility. Before I even had the chance to shake the dust from my sleeves, the old man from the research team summoned me into his study.

“I’ve arranged a marriage for you,” he said, sipping his tea.

“The girl’s name is Vivienne Hale. Her family’s in the tech manufacturing sector. She’s pretty, well-mannered, and most importantly—”

He paused, eyes gleaming with pride. “She has a clean background. Never dated. Untouched.”

I rubbed my aching temples and froze mid-motion.

Researchers tend to obsess over purity—especially when it comes to personal matters. Still, his words aligned with my preferences.

“Fine. You decide,” I said curtly, turning to leave without asking anything further.

The national key project was at a critical juncture. I didn’t have the time or energy to be concerned with romantic arrangements. But just as I stepped away, the old man added, “The bridal chamber is ready—next to the institute, in the Academician Building. The Hale family insisted on decorating it themselves. Said it’s their way of showing sincerity.”

I waved it off. “Let them do whatever they want.”

But the night before the wedding, I stopped by the new place to grab some clothes—and what I saw made me think I’d entered the wrong room.

White funeral banners hung from every wall, fluttering like ghostly flags. In the center stood a framed black-and-white portrait of Vivienne, clearly cropped from her ID photo. Where red silk embroidery of dragons and phoenixes should have been, rows of paper effigies of boys and girls had taken their place. Even the candles were wrong—white wax instead of red. The whole place reeked of death.

“What the hell is this?” I snapped, tearing the white banners off the wall and blocking the workers from continuing.

Just then, a woman in a designer gown and stilettos sauntered in. Her makeup was heavy, her air smug—like a mannequin with too much attitude.

“I’m Isolde Quinn,” she said, arms crossed. “Vivienne’s childhood best friend.”

She cast me a sideways glance and smirked. “Who told you to touch my decorations?”

“I’m getting married here tomorrow,” I said coldly. “And you’re turning the bridal suite into a mourning hall?”

Isolde met my gaze with defiance. “Vivienne said I could decorate it however I like. I’m her best friend.”

She flipped her curled hair, her voice dripping with mockery. “If you’ve got a problem, take it up with her. Let’s see who she sides with.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed Vivienne, my voice hoarse from days in the wind and sun. “Your people have turned the wedding room into a shrine. Is this your idea of sincerity?”

There was a pause on the other end. Then came Vivienne’s soft, composed voice: “Malric, Isolde was just being playful. Don’t be upset. She’s been spoiled since we were kids. Couldn’t you try to be more accommodating?”

“I’m not interested in playing games with her,” I said, holding back my temper. “Tell her and her people to get out. Now.”

This house was a specially approved residence in the National Defense Science and Technology Park. Tomorrow, several military officials would be attending the celebration. If they saw this mess, I’d be publicly humiliated.

——

Before I could say another word—

Beep. Beep.

She had hung up.

The busy tone hammered in my ears, sharp and jarring.

So this was the “gentle, well-bred” woman the old man praised?

Isolde smirked triumphantly. “Heard that? Vivienne doesn’t care what you think.”

Her gaze swept over my dusty, oil-stained training uniform. “If it weren’t for that stupid project you’re working on that’s tying up the Hale family, do you really think someone like you—rough, sunburnt, and reeking of the Sonoran Desert—would be good enough for Vivienne?”

She leaned in with a sneer. “Let’s be real. Vivienne only has eyes for my brother. Asking me to decorate the wedding room? That was her way of letting me humiliate you.”

“Now get out of here,” she added with mock sweetness. “You’re in the way of my work.”