Becoming Lailah: Married to my Twin Sister's Billionaire Husband-Chapter 167: The Rehearsal

MAILAH WOKE with one certainty:

Grayson was gone.

A note rested on her pillow, his handwriting neat and unhelpfully calm:

"This will be the last night we share a room before the wedding."

She stared at it like it had personally betrayed her.

"Rude," she muttered at the paper as if it would apologize.

The villa was too bright, too quiet, and far too large to be Grayson-less. Even the shadows looked bored. She dragged herself downstairs only to find the dining table set like it was preparing for a monarchy—silverware polished, flowers blooming far too aggressively, and—

"Good morning, bride," Liora chirped.

Liora, their hyper-efficient, terrifyingly capable wedding planner, stood in the center of the room holding a clipboard thicker than a spellbook. Her bun was tight enough to qualify as a weapon.

Mailah blinked. "Why do you look... extra organized today?"

Liora smiled like she took that as a compliment. "It’s the final day before the ceremony. Which means we have sixteen tasks, four fittings, a scent-alignment session, and a rehearsal of the bonding-feeding sequence."

Mailah stalled. "Wait—the what now?"

Liora placed the clipboard against her chest, not to break the news—Mailah already knew what she had signed up for—but to transition into her lecture mode.

"Since the bonding-feeding ritual will be publicly performed tomorrow, we need to fine-tune your technique."

Mailah straightened. "Right. Yes. I’m ready. Mostly. Technically."

"It is a ceremonial exchange," Liora said briskly. "Symbolic, elegant, and—if done correctly—very safe."

Mailah pressed her lips together. "And if done incorrectly?"

Liora’s smile did not reassure her. "Let’s simply avoid that scenario."

She clapped once. "Upstairs. We have much to refine."

Mailah sat in a velvet chair while Liora circled her like a drill sergeant with impeccable eyeliner.

"There are three phases to the bonding-feeding ritual," Liora explained, sketching diagrams that somehow looked elegant and vaguely threatening at the same time.

"Phase one: attunement. You take his hands and align your breathing with his."

Mailah nodded. "Got it. Breathing. Hands. I can handle hands."

"Phase two: invocation. He draws your energy through touch—typically the throat or wrist, depending on the couple’s dynamic."

"’Draws’ still sounds like it belongs in an emergency hospital show," Mailah muttered.

"Incubi are refined feeders," Liora said with a shrug. "Mostly."

Still not comforting.

"And phase three?" Mailah asked, bracing herself even though she knew what was coming.

"He tastes your essence," Liora said matter-of-factly.

Mailah blinked. "Right. Yes. That part."

Liora gave her a knowing look. "You agreed to it."

"I did," Mailah groaned, covering her face. "But agreeing and preparing are two very different spiritual experiences."

"It will be perfectly safe," Liora assured her. "Unless you panic. Then it becomes... technically more complicated."

Mailah froze. "Complicated how?"

"Mixed signals confuse the energy flow. An incubus reacting to contradictory cues can occasionally—well—draw too deeply, spark an elemental surge, or momentarily destabilize ambient magic."

Mailah stared.

"So I’m going to shimmer uncontrollably in front of strangers."

"Not shimmer," Liora corrected. "Radiate."

"That’s worse."

After surviving the ritual breakdown without fainting or fleeing, Mailah followed Liora into the sunlit study, where a parchment unrolled across the table like a living carpet.

"These," Liora announced, "are your guests."

Mailah leaned over it and immediately regretted doing so.

Some names glowed.

Some rippled.

One scratched itself off the page, then wrote itself back in a different script.

"Is this list... moving?"

"Yes," Liora replied. "Some beings have fluid documentation."

Mailah swallowed. "And who exactly is attending?"

Liora pointed with her pen, crisp and efficient.

"Representatives of the four demon houses.A phoenix healer.A grim reaper envoy.A celestial notary.Two emissaries from the Dream Realm."

She paused.

"And Grayson’s brothers."

Mailah pressed a hand to her chest.

"Oh no. The demon brothers. The chaos committee."

"An accurate description."

"So," Mailah said weakly, "I have absolutely no allies at this wedding."

"You have me," Liora said, patting her shoulder gently.

"That doesn’t make me feel better."

"It really should," Liora murmured.

"So," Mailah said as she sank onto a sofa, "do I prepare vows? Or is this more of a nod-and-smolder kind of event?"

Liora paused. "Did Grayson write vows?"

Mailah made a wounded noise into her hands. "I have no idea."

"Well, if one of you writes vows, both must recite them. Tradition."

Mailah stared at her palms.

"So if he prepared something poetic and dramatic and I show up with nothing, I’m basically a decorative fern."

"Yes."

Mailah let out a strangled whine.

"Oh god. What do I even write? ’Hello, sorry about nearly dying in a dream realm together, please don’t accidentally explode me during the ritual’?"

"Preferably something sweeter," Liora murmured.

Mailah flopped backward with the theatrical despair of a fainting heroine.

"Do you have samples? Templates? A cheat sheet? A supernatural marriage handbook?!"

Without blinking, Liora pulled out a booklet titled:

"Vows for Inter-Realm Unions: Beginner Edition."

Mailah clutched it like it was divine scripture.

"You’re an angel."

"I’m actually part dryad."

"Still an angel."

By noon, Mailah had been:

– measured twelve times

– braided

– unbraided

– re-braided

– exfoliated

– taught three breathing techniques that supposedly prevented fainting during demon feeding

– and scolded for trying to sneak snacks between fittings

Through all of it, Grayson stayed gone.

It was maddening.

Every empty doorway felt like it should contain him. Every breeze felt suspiciously Grayson-shaped. Even the silence felt like it was watching her.

Finally, she snapped.

"Liora, where is he?!" Mailah demanded.

Liora didn’t look up from her notes."Busy."

"Doing what?"

"Preparing for his role."

Mailah narrowed her eyes. "What role?"

Liora finally lifted her gaze, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"The one in which he declares himself yours in front of two worlds."

Mailah swallowed. Hard.

Liora stepped closer, voice gentler.

"He wants tomorrow to be perfect. For you."

The breath caught in her throat.

Her chest warmed. A slow, molten thing.

Fine. She wasn’t mad anymore. She was something far worse: hopelessly smitten.

After lunch (which she spilled down her dress, earning Liora’s disapproval), Mailah was taught the proper greetings for various supernatural guests.

"Bow," Liora instructed.

"Nod to the reaper envoy."

"Do not wave at the demon high-marshal."

"And absolutely do not attempt small talk with the Dream Realm emissaries."

"Why?" Mailah asked.

"They sometimes respond in... metaphors. And riddles. And on rare occasions, they answer questions you didn’t ask."

Mailah stuffed her face into a pillow.

"I am going to embarrass myself."

"You might," Liora said honestly. "But everyone will assume it’s part of your charm."

Liora guided her through the ritual movements using nothing but a mannequin and a glowing crystal to represent Grayson’s energy signature.

It was both helpful and mortifying.

"Place your hands here," Liora said, positioning Mailah’s fingers on the mannequin’s shoulders.

Mailah frowned. "He’s broader than this."

Liora noted something. "I’ll request a more accurate dummy for tomorrow."

Mailah covered her face. "Please don’t."

"Raise your chin," Liora instructed.

Mailah complied.

"Not too much. You’re inviting connection, not challenging for dominance."

Mailah instantly lowered her chin.

"Oh my god, I am going to be the worst bride in history."

"Possibly," Liora said cheerfully. "Now rehearse the energy exchange."

Mailah swallowed her embarrassment and mimicked the motions, feeling her cheeks burn as Liora narrated calmly:

"Yes, very good. That’s the angle at which your essence becomes most accessible."

"Please stop." Mailah squeaked.

"I am being professional," Liora insisted.

"This is not helping—!"

"Remember, Grayson will be very careful. He adores you."

Mailah froze mid-gesture.

Adores?

Her entire chest went warm and stupid.

Liora, oblivious, continued, "If his feeding intensifies tomorrow, do not panic. That is normal. If he grows wings, I’ll interfere immediately."

Mailah blinked.

"He can grow wings?"

"It depends on how emotionally overwhelmed he is," Liora said.

Mailah felt faint.

"Oh no."

By the time the sun dipped low, Mailah was exhausted, over-prepared, under-prepared, emotionally unstable, and starving.

Liora adjusted the fall of her hair one last time, inspecting her like a jeweler examining a rare gem.

"You’ll be magnificent tomorrow," she said.

Mailah managed a smile. "Even if I faint?"

"Especially then. Dramatic brides are memorable."

Mailah groaned.

Liora softened just slightly, resting a hand on Mailah’s arm.

"He chose you," she said quietly. "Not out of necessity. Not out of obligation. Out of desire. Out of instinct. Out of something deeper."

Mailah’s breath caught.

"But remember this—" Liora leaned in, voice nearly a whisper, "—you chose him, too."

Warmth spread through her chest. Butterflies and electricity. A Grayson-flavored ache.

The night felt too big.

Too charged.

Too expectant.

Tomorrow she would stand before two worlds.

Tomorrow she would let an ancient incubus feed from her essence again and bond with her.

Tomorrow she would speak vows—if she managed to write something that didn’t sound like a panicked shopping list.

Tomorrow she would become his.

But tonight—

Tonight she was alone in a villa full of secrets, wearing a robe Liora insisted enhanced her "pre-bond aura," and feeling the absence of Grayson like a pulse.

Mailah looked out the window at the darkening sky.

"Where are you?" she whispered.

As if the night shifted.

As if something stirred.

As if somewhere, Grayson heard her.

The shadows along the hallway quivered.

Her heart leapt.

Then—

A soft knock.