Page 42 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

He spots us before I can steer Raven in the opposite direction. His eyes light up, and he abandons his audience, striding toward us with all the subtlety of a charging rhino.

“Karc!” he bellows, his arms spread wide. “My boy! Come here, give your old man a hug.”

I hesitate a split second too long. That’s all he needs.

Vrahmin’s knee connects with my groin with ruthless precision. The air leaves my lungs in a wheeze, and I double over, clutching myself. Raven gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Oh my god!” she cries out.

“You’re too slow!” Vrahmin cackles, slapping his thigh like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “You starting a farm, boy? Because I just gave ya a couple of ACHERS.”

“Raven,” I manage to groan, still bent over. “Meet Vrahmin, my father.”

She looks from me to him, her expression a mix of horror and disbelief. “What the hell was that?”

“A Vakutan greeting,” Vrahmin says, still grinning. “Don’t worry, I won’t give you one.” He takes her hand, bowing slightly as he presses a kiss to her knuckles. “You must be Raven. My son’s taste is finally improving. You’re the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.”

Raven blinks, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

“If my boy ever pisses ya off too much and you divorce him, give me a call,” he adds with a wink.

“Father!” I straighten up, my face burning. “Would you stop?”

Raven bursts into laughter, the sound ringing through the lobby. “Oh my god, I think I like him.”

Vrahmin chuckles, slapping me on the back hard enough to make me stumble. “See? She’s got a sense of humor. Keep this one, Karc. She’s a keeper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, glaring at him. “Can we take this upstairs before you embarrass me any further?”

“Embarrass you?” Vrahmin snorts. “Boy, I’m just getting started.”

CHAPTER 19

RAVEN

The white dress mocks me in the mirror's reflection. My fingers tug at the lace sleeves, adjusting them for the hundredth time.

"Stop fidgeting," Madison says. "You'll get sweat stains all over that expensive fabric."

"We all know you didn't belong in a white dress anyway." Madison winks at me through the mirror.

"Madison!" Mom's scandalized gasp echoes through the dressing room. "Don't say such things about my baby girl."

The flash from Mom's phone blinds me. Again. "Mom, please. You must have taken a thousand pictures already."

"Only three hundred and twelve," Madison says, peering over Mom's shoulder at the phone. "But who's counting?"

My stomach churns as Mom snaps another photo. The guilt gnaws at me - this whole ceremony is built on lies. Mom's dreamed of this day since I was little, planning every detail. And here I am, turning it into some cosmic joke.

But what choice do I have? The fate of the world hangs in the balance. That has to count for something in the grand karmic scheme, right?

My eyes drift to the window, where clouds drift past. Somewhere out there, Karc is getting ready too. My heart skips at the thought of him, and I shove those feelings back down where they belong. I can't examine them too closely. Not now. Not when everything depends on keeping my head clear.

The wedding planner bursts in, her clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield. “Darling, it’s time! The bridal march will start any moment now.” Her eyes glisten with excitement, and she clasps my hands, nearly crushing the bouquet of lilies I’m holding. “Your future husband looks absolutely divine in his tuxedo. Like he stepped out of a GQ spread, I swear. You’re a lucky girl.”

I force a smile, my lips trembling. Divine? If only she knew the truth. My stomach churns, guilt twisting like a knife. My mom’s been snapping photos all morning, her face glowing with pride. Dad’s been beaming, bragging to anyone who’ll listen about his “little girl” marrying a billionaire. Madison’s been cracking jokes to keep the mood light, but I can see the worry in her eyes. She knows this isn’t real. She knows I’m lying to everyone I love.

The planner claps her hands, snapping me out of my spiral. “Madison, darling, you’re up! Jareth’s waiting at the end of the aisle. Don’t keep the poor man waiting too long—he looks like he’s about to faint.”

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