Chapter 6 - The Bride in the Doorway

Celia arrived in my hospital room wearing jeans, no makeup, and the small pearl earrings she'd worn at the altar. She carried a white garment bag over one arm.

"I know I probably shouldn't be here," she said.

"That depends," Dean answered. "Are you here to explain away what happened?"

She flinched. "No. I'm here because I heard Maren talking to Owen before the ceremony. She said if Laurel wouldn't cooperate, they needed to 'make her sit this one out.' I thought she meant an argument."

Celia opened the garment bag. Inside lay her wedding dress, folded with its train turned outward. Near the hem, a rust-colored stain marked the lace.

"When you fell, I knelt beside you before somebody pulled me away. I got your blood on the dress." She swallowed. "I couldn't put it back on. Owen asked me to anyway."

Dean stared at her. "You didn't get married?"

"The minister left. The guests left. Owen spent three hours on the phone trying to save the reception."

She laid her own phone on the bed. A video showed the ballroom from behind the cake table. Guests blurred across the frame. There I was beside a gold centerpiece, one hand on my belly and the other wrapped around my purse. Maren reached for my arm. I pulled away. Then she drove both hands into my chest.

There was no stumble, no spinning heel, no accident.

Dean pressed a fist against his mouth.

"My cousin recorded that while testing the livestream," Celia said. "The photographer still has the original file. He'll speak to police."

For the first time since the surgery, I let myself believe the truth might survive my family's version of it.

"Why would you help us?" I asked.

"Because last night I discovered that Owen wasn't surprised you got hurt. He was surprised anyone called an ambulance."

She took an envelope from her tote and handed it to me. Its seal bore the Harbor House Fund's blue compass logo.

Inside was a board-resolution form dated the previous Friday. It approved an emergency payment of $1.8 million to a company called Westvale Renewal.

The treasurer's signature at the bottom was mine.

May you like

Billionaire’s Wife Kicked a Waitress in Front of 300 Elites—One Slap Exp...

The billionaire’s wife tried to kick a waitress in the face in front of 300 wealthy guests. But seconds later, she whispered three...

My Mother Grabbed My Wife by the Hair Over Cold Soup—But What My Father...

My mother grabbed my wife by the hair over a bowl of cold soup. And the most shameful part? For one terrible second, I almost defe...

My Parents Kicked My 6-Year-Old Daughter and Me Out on Christmas—Then I...

My mother kicked my six-year-old daughter out of Christmas dinner, never realizing I was the only reason she still had a house to...

I had never signed it.

And beside the forged signature was Owen Mercer's real one.