Chapter 2 - Forty-Eight Hours EarlierTwo days before my wedding, I had gone to Nathaniel Vale’s office expecting to discuss seating arrangements.
At least, that was what she wanted two hundred people to believe.
The organ had just begun the final notes of the processional when the great oak doors of St. Augustine’s opened behind me.
I was standing at the altar in the lace gown I had chosen with my grandmother six months before she died. My fiancé, Ryan Prescott, stood three feet away in a black tuxedo, smiling the polished smile that had charmed my family, my friends, and—until very recently—me.
Between us stood Nathaniel Vale.
Billionaire.
Founder of Vale Meridian Holdings.
And, oddly enough, the man Ryan had insisted should officiate our wedding.
Nathaniel had known Ryan’s late father for years. He was licensed to perform weddings, donated millions to the church restoration, and had agreed to officiate as a favor.
At least, that was the official story.
Then my sister’s voice echoed through the church.
“Stop the wedding!”
Every head turned.
Mine did too.
And for one terrible second, I thought I was looking into a distorted mirror.
Danielle was wearing white.
Not just any white dress.
My dress.
The same fitted lace sleeves.
The same satin skirt.
The same low back.
Even the same pearl buttons.
Only her veil was shorter.
A murmur swept through the pews.
My mother rose halfway from her seat.
“Danielle?”
My sister walked forward slowly, one hand resting dramatically over her stomach.
Ryan went completely still.
That interested me more than anything else.
He didn’t look confused.
He looked terrified.
Danielle stopped halfway down the aisle.
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” she said.
She wasn’t sorry.
I had known my sister for twenty-nine years. Danielle cried when she was angry, smiled when she lied, and lowered her voice when she wanted an audience to lean closer.
Right now, she was practically glowing.
“I couldn’t let you marry him without knowing the truth.”
My best friend, Claire, whispered from behind me.
“Oh my God.”
Danielle placed both hands over her stomach.
“I’m pregnant.”
Someone gasped.
Then she looked directly at Ryan.
“And Ryan is the father.”
The church exploded into whispers.
My mother covered her mouth.
My father shouted, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ryan finally moved.
“Olivia, I can explain.”
That was the wrong sentence.
Not She’s lying.
Not That’s impossible.
I can explain.
Danielle smiled.
She had expected me to scream.
She had expected tears.
Maybe she pictured me running from the church while she remained in the aisle wearing her stolen imitation of my gown, the tragic younger sister who had finally won the man she’d wanted since we were teenagers.
I looked at Ryan.
“Is she pregnant?”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Danielle answered for him.
“Twelve weeks.”
Three months.
I did the math immediately.
Three months earlier, Ryan had supposedly been in Chicago negotiating the Prescott-Hale acquisition.
Danielle had also been in Chicago.
For what she had called a “girls’ weekend.”
Interesting.
My mother rushed into the aisle.
“Danielle, why would you announce this here?”
“Because Olivia deserved to know before she made the biggest mistake of her life.”
I almost laughed.
Danielle had copied my wedding dress and interrupted my ceremony while claiming concern for me.
Classic Danielle.
Ryan reached for my hand.
I stepped away.
“Olivia.”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Behind Danielle, half the guests were openly filming.
Wonderful.
By sunset, this would be everywhere.
Maybe that was exactly what Danielle wanted.
She walked closer.
“I know you hate me right now.”
“I don’t.”
Her smile faltered.
That surprised her.
“I just think,” I continued, “you’ve made one serious mistake.”
Ryan’s face drained of color.
Danielle frowned.
“What mistake?”
Instead of answering, I turned toward Nathaniel Vale.
He had not moved during the entire confrontation.
At fifty-one, Nathaniel had the kind of presence that made rooms reorganize themselves around him. Silver threaded through his dark hair. His tailored suit probably cost more than my first car.
But it was his expression that caught me.
He wasn’t shocked.
He was watching.
Waiting.
Exactly as we had discussed forty-eight hours earlier.
I looked him directly in the eye.
“Nathaniel?”
“Yes, Olivia?”
The church quieted.
I removed Ryan’s engagement ring from my finger.
Then I asked the question that changed everything.
“Since the groom appears to be unavailable, is your offer still open?”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Ryan stared at me.
Danielle’s mouth fell open.
My mother looked as though someone had unplugged reality.
Nathaniel slowly closed the leather ceremony book in his hands.
Then he smiled.
Not broadly.
Not theatrically.
Just enough.
“Yes,” he said.
Ryan stepped between us.
“What offer?”
I kept my eyes on Nathaniel.
May you like
“The one you made me two years ago.”
And that was when Ryan realized this wedding had been falling apart long before my sister ever walked through those doors.
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