Ethan.
He was standing at the altar, hands clasped in front of him. He looked perfect. The picture of a man overcome with emotion. He wiped a fake tear from his eye as I approached.
It was a performance. A masterclass in deception. If I hadn’t been in that alcove, I would have fallen for it all over again.
I walked. One step. Two steps.
Usually, a bride walks with hesitation, savoring the moment. I walked with a rhythm that was almost predatory. My heels struck the floor with purpose. Click. Click. Click.
I scanned the front row. There she was. Linda. She was wearing a silver gown that probably cost more than my car. She was dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief, beaming at me. The Spider Queen in her web.
I locked eyes with Ethan. As I got closer, I saw his smile falter just a fraction. Maybe he sensed the shift in the air. Maybe he saw that my eyes weren’t filled with adoration, but with a cold, analytical assessment.
I reached the altar. My father kissed my cheek, completely oblivious to the fact that he was handing his daughter to a man who wanted to strip his legacy for parts.
“Take care of her, son,” Dad whispered.
“With my life, sir,” Ethan replied. The lie rolled off his tongue like honey.
Ethan reached out and took my hand. His palm was warm, dry, confident. He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze, the secret signal we used to reassure each other.
“You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, leaning in so only I could hear. “This is the happiest day of my life.”
I leaned in close to his ear. I adjusted my bouquet, bringing the hidden microphone within inches of our faces.
“Are you sure?” I whispered back.
Chapter 3: The Fake Vows
The ceremony began. The priest, Father O’Malley, droned on about the sanctity of marriage, about two souls becoming one, about trust and honesty. Every word felt like a physical blow. The irony was so thick I could taste it—bitter and metallic.
I stood perfectly still. My posture was rigid. To the guests, I probably looked like a statue of grace. Inside, I was a coiled spring.
“And now,” Father O’Malley said, smiling benevolently, “Ethan has written his own vows.”
Ethan cleared his throat. He pulled a small piece of folded paper from his pocket. He looked at me with those deep blue eyes that had once made my knees weak. Now, they just looked like glass beads. Empty.
“Elena,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. It was Oscar-worthy. Truly. “When I met you, I didn’t just meet a woman. I met a muse.”
A collective “Awww” rippled through the congregation.
“You see the world differently,” Ethan continued, stepping closer. “Where others see chaos, you see color. Where others see weakness, you see potential. I promise to cherish you, not for what you have, but for who you are. I promise to be the safe harbor for your artistic soul. I promise to protect your heart from a world that is often too harsh for it.”
In the front row, Linda nodded approvingly, looking like the cat who got the cream. She caught my eye and mouthed, Beautiful.
I felt bile rising in my throat. Protect my heart. He was planning to carve it out and sell it.
“I promise,” Ethan finished, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper, “that as long as I live, you will never have to face anything alone. I will be your strength.”
He folded the paper and wiped another tear.
The priest turned to me. “Elena? Your vows?”
I hadn’t written vows. I was supposed to speak from the heart.
I stayed silent.
The silence stretched. Five seconds. Ten seconds. People began to shift in their seats. A murmur of concern rippled through the room. Was the bride getting cold feet? Was she overcome with emotion?
Ethan’s brow furrowed. He squeezed my hand harder, painful now. “Elena?” he hissed under his breath. “Say something.”
The priest cleared his throat nervously. “Elena, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I looked at the priest. Then I looked at the crowd. Then, slowly, deliberately, I turned my gaze back to Ethan.
I lifted my bouquet. I didn’t hold it at my waist. I brought it up to my chest, angling the hidden mic directly toward my mouth.
I looked up at the balcony where Mark was standing in the tech booth. I saw his silhouette. I nodded once.
