Chaptre 1:
Cossette's POV
At first, I thought that love for a man could never cost me my life.
But standing here, in this moment, I had no idea I was about to marry my own death.
The church was beautiful—old stone walls, stained-glass windows throwing soft colors across the marble floor. White flowers everywhere, sweet perfume mixing with incense in the air. It was like a fairytale.
And I was the bride.
I wore a high-end, custom-made wedding dress—long, elegant, expensive. The kind of dress little girls dream of wearing one day. It hugged my figure softly, flowing behind me like a silk river.
My long ginger hair was curled perfectly down my back, and my blue eyes—usually full of light—felt heavy with nerves. A few soft freckles dotted my pale skin, little marks I always tried to hide but never could. Right now, I didn't care. I was too focused on him.
Frost.
Tall. Black hair, black eyes, pale skin—like winter dressed as a man. Cold, unreadable, mysterious. Standing next to me like this was just another business deal to close. Maybe to him, it was.
Honestly, I never even imagined that one day he would propose to me. But he did. Out of nowhere, he kissed me and said, "Let's build a family together."
I was too in love to say no.
And here I was, about to marry the man I'd dreamed of for so long.
I glanced at him, searching his face for something—anything—but there was nothing. Just that beautiful, sharp coldness that somehow made me love him more.
Then I looked for her.
Anika.
My stepmother. The only family I had left after my father, Anthony Jonas, died last year. She sat front row, dressed in expensive silk, lips curved in that sweet, fake smile she wore so well.
Beautiful. Too beautiful. Barely in her late thirties—way too young to have ever been my father's wife.
Next to her, my best friend Betha caught my eye. She smiled brightly and gave me a little wave. I smiled weakly back at her, grateful that at least someone here truly cared about me.
The priest's voice snapped me back.
"Sir Frost Thomas," the priest said, formal and steady, "do you take Lady Cossette Jonas to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Silence.
For a second, my heart stopped.
Then finally, that cold, deep voice:
"…I do."
Tears burned behind my eyes—not because I was sad. But because I was stupidly, hopelessly happy to hear it, even if he sounded like he didn't mean a word.
"And you, Lady Cossette Jonas," the priest continued, "do you take Sir Frost Thomas to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I smiled.
"I do."
"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
Frost leaned in. His lips touched mine, soft but empty.
The crowd clapped politely.
I felt like I was floating. Finally… I was his.
If only I knew…
That this kiss would one day cost me my life.