Grace's POV
The hotel mirror shows a woman who looks almost unrecognizable. That's Grace, but also not quite Grace. Her dark hair is twisted up in a way that takes two hours to create. The dress costs more money than she made in her first job. Crystals catch the light and throw it everywhere like tiny fireworks across white silk.
She looks like someone's dream of a bride. She feels like someone about to throw up.
"Stop fidgeting," her mother says from the chair by the window. Her mom is already crying happy tears even though the ceremony doesn't start for another hour. Next to her, Grace's bridesmaids are taking photos of everything. The dress. Her shoes. Her hands. Her nervous smile. They're documenting the best day of her life.
Grace's phone buzzes on the dresser.
It's 9:47 in the morning. The wedding is at 11:30. She picks up her phone without thinking.
Unknown number: Don't go down the aisle.
Grace laughs. Actually laughs out loud. "Someone's playing a stupid prank," she says and puts the phone down.
Her mother doesn't hear. She's too busy telling Grace's bridesmaids about the reception. The flowers. The seven-tier cake. The band Ryan hired that costs more than most people's weddings.
Ryan. Even thinking his name makes her nervous in a good way. Excited nervous. Like standing on the edge of something amazing and being scared but not the bad scared.
Her phone buzzes again.
Same unknown number: Seriously. Don't go down the aisle. Trust me.
Grace frowns. She shows the message to Claire, her best friend, who's been sleeping in her room since yesterday. Claire reads it and rolls her eyes.
"Some jealous ex of Ryan's probably," Claire says. "Or some random person trying to be funny. Delete it and ignore it."
Grace wants to delete it. She tries to delete it. But something makes her hold the phone instead. Some small voice that whispers something is off about this.
Her phone buzzes twice more in quick succession.
I'm serious, Grace. Don't do this. Please.
He's going to hurt you again.
And then a third one.
You deserve better than this.
Grace's hand shakes. She reads the messages three times. They're from someone who knows her. Someone who knows about Ryan. Someone who knows something she doesn't.
"Okay that's weird," Claire says, reading over her shoulder. "Who has your number besides like fifty people?"
Grace has no idea. The unknown person won't respond when she tries calling. They blocked their number. By the time she's tried to figure out who's sending the messages, her mother is saying it's time to go. The cars are waiting downstairs. The church is forty-five minutes away and she needs to arrive early.
Grace puts her phone in her purse. She tells herself the messages are a prank. Probably someone trying to mess with her head before the wedding. Some stupid girl who wanted to date Ryan once. Some jerk who thinks this is funny.
But her hands are shaking as she steps into the car.
The drive to the church takes forty minutes instead of forty-five because traffic is light. Grace watches the city pass by through the window. She sees people going to work. Normal people doing normal things. She's getting married in forty minutes.
She should feel happy. She should feel excited. Instead she feels like something heavy is sitting on her chest.
When the car pulls up to the church, she sees the photographers first. There are dozens of them. This wedding is news. Billionaire marries girl from old money family. It's the wedding of the year. She's heard people say that.
She sees the cars lined up. The guests arriving. Her aunts and uncles and cousins climbing the steps to the big white doors.
Something feels wrong.
She can't explain it but she feels it in her bones. Like the air is different. Like everyone is walking too carefully. Like nobody is quite smiling the way they should be.
Grace's dad meets her outside the car. He's supposed to walk her down the aisle. He's supposed to be proud and emotional and happy. Instead he looks confused.
"The ushers seem weird," he says quietly. "And your uncle asked me if I knew about some problem. What problem?"
Grace's stomach drops. "What do you mean what problem?"
"I don't know," her dad says. "That's why I'm asking you."
They walk into the church together and the back doors close behind them. The music is playing. "Here Comes the Bride." People are turning in their seats. Five hundred people all looking at her in her expensive dress.
She walks down the aisle and Ryan is waiting at the altar with his best man. The church is beautiful. White flowers everywhere. The priest is smiling. Everything is perfect.
Except Ryan won't look at her.
He's looking past her. Over her head. His eyes find his father, Victor, who's sitting in the front row on the groom's side. Victor nods at Ryan. Just a small nod. But it's like Ryan was waiting for permission.
Grace reaches the altar. She smiles at Ryan. He still won't meet her eyes.
The priest starts talking. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."
Grace stops listening because something is very wrong. Ryan's jaw is tight. His hands are shaking. He looks like a man about to do something terrible.
The priest asks if anyone objects to the marriage. Nobody says anything. Grace breathes a little easier. They're past that part.
Then Ryan steps closer to her. So close she can smell his cologne. He reaches for her hand and she gives it to him. His palm is sweating.
He leans down to her ear like he's about to whisper something sweet. Something romantic that only she can hear.
Instead he says four words that destroy her entire world.
"I can't do this."
Grace freezes. She thinks he's nervous. She thinks he means about the vows. She's about to laugh and tell him it's okay, that plenty of grooms get nervous, that they can do this together.
That's when she hears it.
Gasping from the church. People standing up. Someone yelling something she can't quite hear.
Grace turns to look at the crowd.
The church doors at the back open.
A woman walks in wearing white.
Grace's brain doesn't understand at first. There's a woman in a wedding dress coming down the aisle. The woman is beautiful. The dress is beautiful. But why would anyone else be wearing white to someone's wedding.
Then the woman gets closer and Grace's entire body goes cold.
It's Isabella.
Her cousin Isabella. Who was supposed to be in the second row. Who was supposed to be smiling and watching. Who was supposed to be family.
Isabella is walking down the aisle in a white dress like this is her wedding.
The church erupts. People are standing. Cameras are flashing outside the windows. Someone is crying. Someone is laughing. Everyone is looking.
Grace looks at Ryan.
Ryan is looking at Isabella.
And on his face is the expression of someone greeting someone he actually wanted to see.