You're going to be a substitute

The phone dropped from my trembling hand as I collapsed back into the chair, my eyes still staring at Sabrina's lifeless body. The numbness was suffocating, but it was all I could feel now. I could hardly remember the conversation I’d just had with my father. The words had been distant as though I were speaking through someone else’s voice. I barely registered the quiet rustling of the doctors and nurses around me, focused only on the heavy silence that enveloped the room.

I glanced over at the door. My father and my mother were coming. I knew my father very well, he would want to see Sabrina, to mourn, but there was nothing left to say or do. She was gone. The weight of that truth crushed down on me.

My hands were still slick with her blood. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her face, pale and strained, the desperate way she’d clutched at me in those final moments, her eyes pleading for help she would never get. It felt like I had failed her in every way.

I stood up slowly, my body feeling like lead, and walked to the window. The city lights outside felt distant and cold, so far removed from the chaos I’d just lived through. How had we ended up here? How had this night turned from one of fleeting freedom into one of irreversible loss?

My parents would be furious when they found out what had happened. My father would be angry with me for not protecting Sabrina, for letting her slip away from us. He had already expected so much from her, from me, and now that burden would fall entirely on my shoulders.

I dragged my hand across my face, trying to rid myself of the suffocating emotions threatening to drown me. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind: "We did everything we could." They hadn’t. They couldn’t. Not when the damage had already been done. I should have gotten her out of there sooner. I should have protected her.

The door opened then, and I turned just as my father stepped inside. His face, usually an unreadable mask, was tight with grief, his jaw set in that hard line I knew too well. But there was nothing he could do now. No control he could exert.

I could see the pain in his eyes when he looked at Sabrina, the cracks forming in his carefully constructed facade. His beloved daughter, gone. And I knew he would blame me. He would always blame me.

He took one long step toward her, his gaze never leaving her body, and then, finally, he turned to me. The words were there, hanging in the air, unsaid but understood.

"I’ll make the arrangements," he said, his voice hoarse, hollow.

"Your mother has failed to collect herself, I have left her at home lamenting", He added.

I nodded numbly, not trusting myself to speak. What was there to say? It was too late for apologies, too late for anything. All I had left was the overwhelming ache of her absence, the gnawing guilt that I couldn’t undo what had been done.

Sabrina was gone, and nothing would ever be the same.

After him talking to the doctors, he called some people probably to arrange for the quick burial of Sabrina.

My father didn’t speak to me again after making his calls, his focus entirely on the lifeless body before him. He stood rigid, hands clenched at his sides, his grief hidden behind the same impenetrable wall he always maintained.

I watched him for a moment, searching for something—anything—that might make this feel less unbearable. But there was nothing. No comfort. No warmth. Just the quiet hum of the machines that no longer mattered and the weight of everything left unsaid.

Finally, he turned toward me, his gaze sharp and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“You should go home,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t—”

“There’s nothing more you can do here.” His tone was final. Dismissive.

He didn’t want me here. Or maybe he just couldn’t bear to look at me, knowing I had been the last person with her. Knowing I had failed.

I nodded stiffly and turned toward the door. But as I reached for the handle, out of the blue things changed. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the sharp vibration breaking the silence. He answered without hesitation, his voice low.

“What is it?”

I turned back, watching as his posture stiffened, his grip on the phone tightening. Whatever was being said on the other end of the line wasn’t good. His expression darkened, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might snap.

“Where?” he demanded. A pause. “Right now?”

I took a step closer, my pulse quickening. “What’s going on?”

" Alessandro is already done with preparing the wedding stuff, I haven't told him about the death of your sister", He spoke in a panicked voice.

The marriage contract?!

What was he going to do right now?! Since my sister is now dead.

“You haven't? Why?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

His silence was answer enough.

The panic in my chest only grew. “What are you planning to do?”

For the first time, my father hesitated. His eyes flickered toward the door, then back to me, calculating, deciding. “We don’t have time for this, Nikolai.”

I clenched my fists. “Tell me.”

He exhaled sharply, as if the conversation itself was a waste of time. “The contract stands.”

I froze. My mind reeled.

No.

That wasn’t possible. Sabrina was gone. There was no marriage anymore. No alliance.

Unless—

My stomach dropped. “You’re not suggesting—”

“The deal was made between families, not individuals,” my father cut in coldly. “It was never just about Sabrina. It was about securing our future.”

I took a step back, shaking my head. “You can’t expect me to...”

“I expect you to do what’s necessary,” he snapped, his voice slicing through my protests. "You going to get married to Alessandro as a substitute",

I froze when I heard his words.

Me a man?!

To get married to a fellow man.

My breath caught in my throat, my body locking up as though my father’s words had physically struck me.

“What?” My voice was barely above a whisper, thick with disbelief.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. “You heard me. The wedding is going to take place in the evening, tomorrow immediately after the burial of your sister",