Harriet thought she was marrying a thriving entrepreneur, until his real wife arrived at the ceremony with three children.
Youre mad! shouted the designer, flinging his hands dramatically. Thats a oneofakind dress; you cant just have it altered! Its like asking Leonardo daVinci to add whiskers to the MonaLisa!
Im paying £500 for this gown and I expect it to fit perfectly, Harriet said calmly, though her blood was boiling. You can see the excess fabric here. Ive lost weight in the past month.
At the last fitting you weighed exactly the same! the designer retorted. Brides might gain or lose a stone, but not that quickly. This dress was cut to your exact measurements.
MrWhitaker, Harriet sighed, the wedding is in three days. I cant waste time arguing. Please make the adjustments I asked for.
Whitaker gave her a displeased look, then nodded. The dress was indeed a bit baggy. Harriet had shed five kilograms in the month leading up to the weddingnot from dieting, but from endless running around and nerves. Invitations, the venue, photographer, floristall the chores fell on her shoulders. Charles was too busy with his business to worry about such details.
Fine, Whitaker softened, pricking the fabric with pins. Well make a queen out of you. But stop losing weight, or I cant guarantee the result.
Harriet smiled at her reflection. The white dress with a lace bodice and a full skirt looked like something out of a fairy tale. She turned sideways, admiring the silhouette. Could she really become the wife of Charles Sampson, the owner of a propertydevelopment firm and, by all accounts, the most charming man shed ever met?
Her phone buzzed. A message from Charles: Stuck in a meeting. See you this evening. Kiss.
Harriet exhaled a sigh. The third time this week. Business demanded his attention, but after the wedding they would have more time together.
That evening, while waiting for Charles at home, she sorted photos for the wedding album. First, their seaside holiday in Cornwall; then a ski trip in the Lake District; and finally the restaurant where Charles proposed. Ten months wasnt a long courtship, but when you know hes the one, why wait?
A knock sounded Charles had returned, tired but smiling. He tossed his jacket onto the armchair and pulled Harriet into a kiss.
Sorry Im late. The investors from Birmingham needed my focus.
Its all right, Harriet replied. Are you hungry? Ill heat up dinner.
I ate at the office, Charles said, blinking. Tell me how the fitting went.
As Harriet described the temperamental designer, Charles nodded absentmindedly, his eyes drifting to the phone in his hand.
Youre not listening, she said.
Sorry, urgent matter, he typed quickly. What did you say?
It doesnt matter, Harriet stood. Im going to shower. Its been a long day.
The water washed away fatigue, but not the unease. Lately Charles seemed distant. Maybe it was prewedding nerves? Or work stress? She stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and heard Charles speaking softly on the phone from the bedroom.
Yes, everythings fine. No, dont worry, Ive got it under control Yes, of course Me too
Harriet froze in the hallway. Who was he speaking to in such a gentle tone? She slipped toward the door.
Ill be home soon, Charles said, ending the call.
Home? He was already home. A knot tightened in Harriets chest. She opened the door.
Who were you talking to?
Charles startled, then turned.
Victor, my deputy. We were discussing tomorrows meeting.
You said youd be home soon.
What? Charles frowned, then laughed. Oh, I meant Ill be at the office shortly. Misspoke. Im exhausted, Harriet.
She wanted to protest, but Charles already moved in, pulling her close. His scent was a mix of expensive cologne and a faint hint of a perfume she didnt recognize. She dismissed it as the lingering fragrance of his secretary.
Three days, and youll be Harriet Sampson, he whispered. Sounds lovely, doesnt it?
She nodded, pressing against his chest, the doubts that prewedding nerves had stirred fading for the moment. What could possibly go wrong?
The next day Harriet visited her friend Kate to collect the beaded wedding shoes she had asked Kate to embellish.
You look worried, Kate said, pouring tea. Prewedding nerves?
I dont know, Harriet swirled the cup. Yesterday was odd. Charles was on the phone saying hed be home soon, even though he was already home.
Maybe he misspoke.
And it smelled like womens perfume.
Harriet, youre being paranoid, Kate waved a hand. He runs a team of a hundred people, half of them women. Its natural for a hint of perfume to linger.
Harriet forced a smile, though the anxiety lingered.
Are you both ready for married life? You havent even lived together.
Weve spent weekends together, taken holidays. Thats enough to know each other.
Kate shrugged. And his parents? He never introduced you to them.
They live in another city, elderly, cant travel. Theyll come to the wedding.
Its strange youve never visited them in ten months.
Charles is busy. You know his business.
Right, the property firm, central office, overseas trips Yet none of his business partners will attend the wedding?
Theyll be there. Victor and a few others.
How about friends?
He doesnt like big, noisy gatherings.
Kates eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. From the start shed been wary of Charlestoo perfect, too mysterious, too occupied. Not every man is an open book, though.
That night Harriet decided to confront him. They were in the kitchen; Charles was scrolling on his tablet while she prepared dinner.
Charles, I need to ask are we really ready for marriage? she began, stirring the sauce nervously.
What do you mean? he looked up, surprised.
We barely know each other. Ive never been to your home, never met your parents, I hardly know any of your friends.
Weve talked about this a hundred times, Charles set the tablet aside. Ive spent most of my time in your flat because my house is being renovated. Youll meet my parents at the wedding. As for friends I dont have many. Im a workaholic, you know that.
Yes, but
No buts, he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. In two days youll be my wife. Well live in the new house I bought for us. I promise you a wonderful life.
Harriet nodded. She hadnt seen the house yet; Charles said it would be a surprise after the wedding. The gesture was sweet, yet it added to her unease.
And the rings? she asked.
How about I pick them up tomorrow?
Charles froze for a moment.
No, Ill take care of it. Its my responsibility.
That night Harriet lay awake while Charles slept soundly beside her. She stared at the ceiling, trying to untangle her feelings. She loved him, trusted him, yet a part of her screamed that something was wrong.
The next morning Charles left early, saying he had to settle work matters before the wedding. Harriet was alone and decided to act. She found Victors number in her contacts and dialed.
Hello? a man’s voice answered.
This is Harriet, the bridetobe of Charles Sampson, she introduced herself. I need to confirm details about tomorrows ceremony.
What ceremony? Victor asked, puzzled.
Our wedding, Harriet said, feeling a chill. Youre invited, arent you?
There was a long pause.
I dont know any Charles Sampson, Victor finally said. Perhaps you have the wrong number.
But youre his deputy at the construction firm
Im an accountant at a travel agency, never worked in construction.
Harriet sank onto a chair, feeling her legs give out. She thanked Victor and hung up, staring at the wall. Who was the man she was about to marry?
With trembling hands she opened her laptop and searched the company Charles claimed to own. Several firms with similar names appeared, but none listed a director called Charles Sampson. Social media offered no trace of his projects.
She rummaged through a box of his papers in the cupboard: a passport shed never seen, a drivers licence, a business card. The licence looked genuine, but she wasnt sure. She called the number on the card; the voicemail said the number didnt exist.
The front door openedCharles was back. She quickly shoved the papers back into the box.
What are you doing? he asked, kissing her cheek.
Looking at our photos, she lied. Big day tomorrow.
Yes, he smiled. I got the rings. Want to see?
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket. Inside lay two golden bands.
Beautiful, Harriet whispered, a lump forming in her throat.
Try them on? he offered, showing the smaller one.
No, she stepped back. Bad omen. Youll wear them tomorrow.
Charles laughed. My superstitious side. Fine, a surprise then.
He smelled of an expensive cologne mixed with a faint hint of perfumeperhaps his secretarys perfume lingered. Harriet dismissed it.
Im heading to Kates for the night, she said. Traditionalgroom doesnt see the bride before the ceremony.
Of course, Charles agreed. Ill stay with a friend. See you tomorrow, love.
He kissed her long and gentle, as if it might be the last. A tear slipped down her cheek.
At Kates, Harriet recounted everything: the call to Victor, the deadend search, the strange scents and the odd answers.
I think hes not who he says he is, she said, wiping her eyes.
Lets verify his full name, Kate replied, opening her laptop. Charles Ian Sampson, born 15May1979.
The birth date?
Yes.
Kate typed furiously, brows furrowing.
Nothing. No news articles, no profiles. A successful businessman usually appears somewhere.
Maybe hes reclusive?
To that extent? And that fake Victor Kate shook her head. Youre being deceived. The question is why.
Money? Harriet guessed. But I have none. Im just a schoolteacher.
Property? Car?
I have my parents flat, no car.
Could he be a con man planning to marry, collect gifts, then vanish?
Does that happen?
More often than you think, Kate said. Usually the victims are wealthy, but not always.
Harriet spent a sleepless night turning the situation over. By morning she felt an odd calm. She decided she would still attend the ceremony, confront the man who had lied to her for ten months, and ask why.
The wedding was set for a small countryhouse restaurant outside town. Harriet arrived an hour early to change and prepare. Guests were already gathering: her parents, friends, colleagues. Charless side was conspicuously absent.
In the bridal suite her friends helped her into the dress and fix her hair. The gown fit perfectly, yet she felt like she was wearing someone elses skin.
Charles is here, a friend announced, peeking in. He looks dashing in his suit!
Harriets heart rushed. Would she finally learn the truth?
Fifteen minutes remained before the ceremony. She stood by the window watching the last cars arrive. A silver minivan pulled up, and a woman stepped out with three children. She was welldressed, eyes wide with anxiety. She whispered something to the kids, who obediently followed her toward the restaurant entrance.
A cold shiver ran down Harriets spine. Something told her this was no coincidence. She slipped out of the suite and entered the main hall, where guests were already seated. Charles stood near the register, talking quietly. The doors opened and the woman with the children entered. The room fell silent. Charles turned slowly, his face blanching.
Paul? the woman said, voice trembling. Whats happening?
Harriet moved closer, still unsure of what was happening. Charlesor Paul?stood between two women, his gaze flickering.
Alice, he finally managed. What are you doing here?
What am I doing? Alices voice cracked. Your mother called me, said you were getting married! Paul, we have three kids!
The guests murmured. Harriet felt the floor give way beneath her. She clutched a nearby chair.
Charles? she called out. Who is this woman?
What Charles? Alice shouted. His name is Paul DmitriKyrle. Hes my husband. The father of my children. I manage a car dealership.
Harriet looked at the childrentwo boys and a girl, ages about ten, eight and four. The oldest called out, Dad, why are you in a suit? Is this a wedding?
Quiet, Kirill, Alice scolded. Dad will explain later.
Paulno, Charlesfinally found words.
Alice, children, wait outside. Ill explain, he said.
No, Alice snapped, arms crossed. Im not leaving until I know whats happening.
Harriet stepped forward, eyes locked on the man she thought she loved.
Who are you, really? she asked softly. Whats your real name?
He lowered his head.
Paul Kyrle.
And youre married?
Yes.
And these are your children?
Yes.
Harriet felt something break inside her. All the months of love, the promises, the futuregone.
Why? she whispered. Why did you do this?
Paul remained silent. Alice grabbed his sleeve.
This has been going on for two years, hasnt it? Your trips, the delays Youve been living a double life!
Not now, Alice, Paul pleaded.
No, now! she shouted. Ive tolerated your absences, believed every word you said! And you
Harriet interjected, Why pretend to be a businessman? Why lie about your job, your parents, the proposal?
The hall was so quiet you could hear a fly buzz. Everyone watched the drama unfold.
I I didnt plan this, Paul finally said, his voice shaking. It just got out of control.
Out of control? Harriet asked, incredulous. You dated me for ten months, proposed, organized a weddingthen it spiralled out of control?
I met you by chance, Paul began. You were beautiful, intelligent. I wanted to impress you, so I said I ran my own firm. Then I couldnt stop.
Alice asked, Why marry?
Paul fell silent, eyes on the floor.
Kate, who had been watching, stepped forward. He probably wanted to get gifts and money from the wedding and disappear, she said.
No! Paul protested. I could never do that to Harriet.
But you did deceive her, and your wife, Kate replied. How long have you been keeping two families?
Paul said nothing; his silence shouted louder than any words. Alice turned to Harriet.
Did you know he was already married?
No, Harriet shook her head. I only found out yesterday. I never imagined it would be so horrific.
Alice sighed. Its disgusting, right?
She faced the children. Well go home. I wont return here, Paul.
She left, head held high.
Paul stood alone, surrounded by accusatory stares. Harriet looked at him, no longer recognizing the man she thought she loved.
You must leave, she said quietly.
Harriet, please, I can explain
Theres nothing to explain, she replied, shaking her head. Just go.
He lingered a moment longer, then walked out, unchallenged.
Harriet remained in the centre of the hall, dressed in a white wedding dress, surrounded by silent guests. A strange mix of emptiness and relief washed over her. Kate came over and hugged her.
Lets get you home, Kate said.
No, weve already paid for the banquet. The guests are here. Lets just celebrate.
What are we celebrating? Kate asked, surprised.
My freedom, Harriet replied with a faint smile. Imagine if she had shown up after the ceremony? Or a year later, when wed have children?
She scanned the room.
Sorry for this spectacle. There wont be a wedding, but the banquet is paid, the music ordered. Lets enjoy the evening.
Harriet was the first to pour herself a glass of champagne and drink it down. Within an hour the guests were dancing, laughing, sharing stories. The sting of betrayal still burned, but something inside told her she would be okay.
Late that night, after the last guest leftShe stepped out into the cool night, feeling the first true taste of freedom.
