Emily Hart had been certain she was about to marry a thriving entrepreneur, until the ceremony was crashed by his actual wife, carrying three children.
Darling, youve lost your mind! the designer roared, flinging his arms wide. Thats an exclusive couture pieceyou cant just have it restitched! Its like asking Picasso to give the Mona Lisa a moustache!
Im paying £500 for this gown and I expect it to fit perfectly, Emily said, her voice steady while fury boiled inside. You need to take away the excess fabric. Ive lost weight this past month.
At the last fitting you weighed the same! the tailor snapped. A bride can slim down or put on a few pounds, but not that fast. This dress was cut to your exact measurements.
Simon Whitaker, Emily sighed, the wedding is in three days. I have no time for arguments. Please make the adjustments Ive asked for.
Simon gave her a disgruntled glance, then nodded. The dress did sit a bit baggy. Emily had shed five kilos not through dieting but through sleepless days and nerves. Invitations, the venue, photographer, floristall the stress rested on her shoulders. James Whitaker was too engrossed in his construction empire to bother with such details.
Fine, Simon softened, pinning the fabric. Well make you a queen. But dont lose any more weight, or I cant guarantee the result.
Emily smiled at her reflection. The white dress, its lace bodice and full skirt, looked like a dream. She turned, admiring the silhouette. In three days she would become the wife of James Whitaker, owner of a major building firm and, by all accounts, the most charming man shed ever met.
Her phone buzzed. A message from James: Running late at the board meeting. See you tonight. Kiss.
Emily swallowed a sigh. It was the third delay this week. Business demanded his attention, she told herself. After the wedding they would finally have time for each other.
That evening, waiting for James, she thumbed through photos for the wedding album. First seaside holiday, a ski trip in the Alps, the restaurant where James had proposed. Ten months togetherhardly a long courtship, but when you know hes the one, why wait?
The door clicked openJames stepped in, fatigued but smiling, shedding his blazer onto the armchair before pulling Emily into a kiss.
Sorry Im late. Investors from Manchester needed my focus.
Its all right, Emily replied. Are you hungry? I can heat up dinner.
I grabbed a bite at the office, James muttered, eyes flicking to his phone. Tell me how the fitting went.
As Emily recounted the capricious tailor, James nodded absentmindedly, his gaze drifting to the screen in his hand.
Youre not listening, Emily said sharply.
Sorry, urgent matter, he typed a quick reply. What did you say?
It doesnt matter, she stood. Im going to the shower. Its been a long day.
The water washed away fatigue, but not the unease. Lately James seemed distantperhaps the wedding pressure, perhaps work troubles? She emerged, towel draped, and heard him whispering on the phone in the bedroom.
Yes, everythings fine. No, dont worry, Ive got it under control Yes, of course Ill be home soon.
Emily froze in the hallway. Who was he speaking to so tenderly? She slipped toward the door.
Ill be home shortly, James said, ending the call.
Home? He was already home. A cold knot formed in Emilys chest. She opened the door.
Who were you talking to?
James jumped, turning.
Victor, my deputy. We were discussing tomorrows meeting.
You said youd be home soon.
What? he frowned, then laughed. Ah, I meant Ill be at the office soon. Misspoke. Im exhausted, Emily.
She tried to protest, but James pulled her close. His scent was a mix of expensive cologne and a faint trace of something floralperhaps his secretarys perfume. She brushed it aside, assuming it was just office proximity.
Three days, and youll be Mrs. Whitaker, he whispered, a smile playing on his lips. Sounds lovely, doesnt it?
She nodded, pressing against his chest, the prewedding nerves feeding selfish doubts. What could possibly go wrong?
The next morning Emily visited her friend Poppy to collect the beaded shoes shed asked her to decorate.
You look worried, Poppy said, pouring tea. Premarital panic?
I dont know, Emily swirled the cup. Something was odd yesterday. James talked on the phone, said hed be home sooneven though he was already home.
Maybe he misspoke, Poppy shrugged. He runs a big firm; hes always juggling people.
And there was that scent
Emily, youre being paranoid. He has a staff of a hundred, half of them women. Its natural theyll wear perfume.
Emily forced a smile, though the anxiety lingered.
Are you both ready for marriage? You havent even lived together.
We spent weekends together, went on holidays. Thats enough to know someone.
And his parents? He never introduced you.
They live up north, retired. Theyll come to the wedding.
Its strange you never visited them in ten months.
James is swamped. You know his business.
Construction company, head office in the City, trips abroad Yet none of his partners will attend the wedding?
Theyll be there. Victor and a few others.
Poppy eyed her skeptically but said nothing. Emily knew Poppy had never trusted James fully; he seemed too perfect, too mysterious, too busy. But not every man is an open book.
That night Emily confronted James in the kitchen. He was scrolling on his tablet while she stirred a sauce.
James, I need to ask are we really ready for marriage? she began, voice trembling.
What do you mean?
We barely know each other. Ive never been to his house, never met his parents, I hardly know his friends.
Weve talked about this a hundred times, James set the tablet down. Ive spent most of my time in your flat while my house is being renovated. Youll meet his parents at the wedding. Friends I dont have many; Im a workaholic, you know.
Yes, but
No buts, he wrapped his arms around her. In two days youll be my wife. Well move into the new house I bought for us. A wonderful life, I promise.
Emily nodded. The house he spoke of was still unseen; he claimed it would be a surprise after the ceremony. The gesture was sweet, yet it gnawed at her.
By the way, did you collect the rings from the jeweller?
James froze for a heartbeat.
Not yet. Ill drop by tomorrow.
What if I go myself? I need them in the neighbourhood.
No! Its my responsibility. Ill handle everything.
That night Emily lay awake, Jamess steady breathing beside her, while she stared at the ceiling, wrestling with her feelings. She loved him, trusted himwhy did a part of her scream danger?
Morning came and James left early, saying he had to settle business before the wedding. Emily was alone, and she made a decision. She dug up Victors contact from her phone and called.
Hello? a male voice answered.
This is Emily, James Whitakers fiancée. I need details about tomorrows event.
Excuse me? Victor sounded confused. What event?
Our wedding, Emily said, heart tightening. Youre invited, arent you?
A long silence stretched.
I dont know any James Whitaker, Victor finally said. Maybe you have the wrong number.
But youre his deputy at the construction firm
Im an accountant at a travel agency, he interrupted. Ive never worked in construction.
Emily sank onto a chair, numb. She thanked him and hung up, staring at the wall. Who was this man she was about to marry?
Trembling, she opened her laptop, typed the company name James claimed to own, and searched. Several firms with similar titles appeared, but none listed a director named James Whitaker. Social media gave nothing. She rummaged through a box of his documents, finding a passport, drivers licence, a business card. The licence looked possibly forged. The cards phone number rang dead.
The door openedJames returned. She hurriedly shoved the papers back into the box.
What are you doing? he asked, kissing her cheek.
Looking at our photos, Emily lied. Tomorrows the big day.
I got the rings, he grinned, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. Inside, two gold bands gleamed.
Beautiful, Emily whispered, a lump forming in her throat.
Try one on? he offered, holding out the smaller band.
No, she pulled back. Bad omen. Youll wear it tomorrow.
He laughed, My superstitious bride. Fine, surprise it shall be.
He smelled of the same expensive cologne, a hint of something floral. She dismissed it as his secretarys perfume.
Im heading to Katies, Emily said. Ill spend the night there. Tradition says the groom shouldnt see the bride before the ceremony.
Of course, James replied. Ill stay with a friend. See you tomorrow, love.
He kissed her long, tenderly, as if for the last time. A tear slipped down Emilys cheek.
At Katies flat, Emily spilled everything: the call to Victor, the deadend searches, the strange scents, the contradictions.
Im terrified hes not who he says he is, she concluded, wiping her eyes.
Lets check his full name, Katie said, already at her laptop. James Edward Whitaker. Date of birth15 May 1979.
Katie typed furiously, eyebrows knitting.
Nothing. No records. Usually a successful businessman shows up somewherenews, forums, socials.
Maybe hes secretive?
Or a fraud, Katie replied. That fake Victor Emily, youre being duped. Why?
Money? Emily guessed. But I have none. Im a teacher.
No house, no car. Just a parents flat.
Could he be a con man planning to marry, collect gifts, then disappear?
Exactly what Ive read, Katie said. These scams target wealthylooking victims, not rich ones.
Emily lay awake, a strange calm settling over her. She decided she would still go to the ceremony, face the man who had lied for ten months, and ask why.
The wedding was set in a modest country inn outside Surrey. Emily arrived an hour early to change and ready herself. Guestsher parents, friends, colleagueswere already gathering. Jamess side was conspicuously absent.
In the bridal suite, friends helped her into the dress, fixing hair, adjusting veils. The gown fit perfectly, yet felt alien, like a costume.
James is here, a friend announced, peeking in. He looks dashing in his suit!
Emilys heart hammered. Could this be the moment of truth?
Fifteen minutes remained before the ceremony. She stood by the window, watching the last cars pull up. A silver minivan halted, and a woman stepped out, followed by three children. The woman, welldressed but nervous, whispered to the kids, who obediently followed her toward the entrance.
A chill ran down Emilys spine. Something told her this was no coincidence. She slipped out of the suite and marched into the main hall, where guests were already seated. She spotted James, back turned, chatting with the registrar. The doors swung open and the woman entered.
Silence fell. James turned slowly; his face went pale.
Paul? the woman uttered, voice shaking. Whats happening?
Emily edged closer, confusion swirling. Was James now Paul?
What are you doing here? she whispered.
Its Paul, the woman snapped. My names Alice. Im his wife. We have three children.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Emily clutched a nearby chair, knees wobbling.
James? she called out. Who is she?
Theres no James, Alice shouted. His name is Paul Derek Kline. Im his wife. Im the mother of these kids. Hes a manager at an auto dealership.
Emily stared at the childrena boy of about ten, a younger boy, and a little girlwho looked at Paul with bewilderment.
Dad? the older boy asked. Why are you in a tuxedo? Is today your wedding?
Quiet, Kirill, Alice scolded, though the boys name was different. Dad will explain.
Paul finally found words.
Alice, children, wait outside. Ill explain everything.
No, Alice crossed her arms. Im staying until I know whats happening.
Emily stepped forward, eyes locked on the man shed loved.
Who are you really? she asked softly. What is your name?
He lowered his head.
Paul Kline.
Youre married?
Yes.
And these are your children?
Yes.
Emily felt something snap inside. All those months, the declarations of love, the future planstheyd been lies.
Why? she managed, voice trembling. Why did you do this?
Paul remained silent. Alice seized his arm.
This has been going on for two years, hasnt it? Your trips, the delays youve been living a double life!
Alice, not now, Paul pleaded.
Now! she screamed. I tolerated your absences, believed every word, and you
Emily interjected, Why pretend to be a businessman? Why lie about your job, your parents, the proposal?
The hall was so quiet a moth could be heard fluttering. All eyes watched the unraveling drama.
I I didnt plan this, Paul began, eyes darting around. It just got out of control.
Out of control? Emily echoed. You dated me for ten months, proposed, organized a weddingthen it spiraled out of control?
I met you by chance, Paul said, voice breaking. You were beautiful, intelligent. I wanted to impress you, so I fabricated a company. Then I couldnt stop.
Arent you going to disappear after the wedding, take the gifts, and run? Katie, who had stepped forward, asked.
No! I couldnt do that to you, Emily, Paul protested. Id never hurt you like that.
But you did, Katie said. How long did you plan to keep two families?
Silence hung heavy.
You knew he was married? Alice asked, eyes fierce.
No, Emily whispered. I only found out yesterday. I never imagined it would be this far
Alice turned to her children. Lets go home. We have no business here.
The kids obeyed, clutching her hand. Alice lingered a moment longer.
Ill take the kids and go to my mother. You can stay if you want, Paul, but dont expect me to stay.
She left, head held high.
Paul stood alone, surrounded by condemning stares. Emily stared at the man she thought she loved, now a stranger.
You need to leave, she said quietly.
Emily, please, I can explain
Theres nothing to explain, she replied, shaking her head. Just go.
He lingered another heartbeat, then turned and walked out, unimpeded.
Emily remained in her white dress, the hall suddenly empty of celebration, filled with a hollow mix of loss and relief. Katie approached, hugging her tightly.
Lets get out of here, Katie urged. Ill drive you home.
No, Emily said suddenly. Weve already paid for the banquet. The guests are here. Lets just celebrate.
What are we celebrating? Katie asked, bewildered.
My freedom, Emily managed a faint smile. Imagine if shed shown up after the ceremony, or years later, or when we already had children.
She glanced at the assembled guests.
Sorry for this farce. There will be no wedding, but the hall is paid for, the music booked. Lets makeAs the last glass of champagne clinked, Emily whispered to herself that she would rebuild her life on her own terms, free from lies.
