I thought I was about to marry a successful businessman, until his real wife arrived at the ceremony with three children.
Youre mad! This is an exclusive couture piece; you cant just have it altered, the designer declared, flinging his arms dramatically. It would be like asking Leonardo daVinci to give the MonaLisa a moustache!
Im paying £500 for this dress and I expect it to fit perfectly, Emily said calmly, though she was seething inside. You can see the excess fabric that needs to be taken out. Ive lost weight over the past month.
At the last fitting you weighed exactly the same! the designer retorted. A bride can slim down or put on a few pounds, but not that quickly. This dress was made to your exact measurements.
David, the wedding is in three days, Emily sighed. I dont have time for arguments. Please make the changes Im asking for.
David gave her a skeptical look, then nodded. The dress did indeed hang a little loosely. Emily had shed five kilograms during the frantic runup to the weddingnot from dieting, but from endless errands and nerves. Invitations, the venue, photographer, floristsall fell on her shoulders. James was too busy running his construction firm to worry about such details.
Alright, David softened, pinning the gown with his pins. Well make a queen out of you. But stop losing weight, or I cant guarantee the fit.
Emily smiled at her reflection. The white dress, with its lace bodice and full skirt, looked like something out of a storybook. She turned sideways, admiring the silhouette. In just three days she would become Mrs. James Mercer, owner of a thriving building company and, by all accounts, the most charming man she had ever met.
Her phone buzzed. A text from James: Running late at a meeting. See you this evening. Love you.
Emily exhaled a sigh. It was the third delay that week, but business demanded attention. After the wedding they would finally have time for each other.
That evening, while waiting for James at home, she sorted through photos for the wedding album: their first seaside holiday, a ski trip in the Alps, the restaurant where James had proposed. Ten months wasnt a long courtship, but when you know someone is the one, why wait?
A knock on the door announced Jamess return. He dropped his blazer on the armchair, wiped the fatigue from his face, and pulled Emily into a kiss.
Sorry Im late. The investors from Manchester needed my full attention.
No problem, Emily replied. Are you hungry? Ill heat up dinner.
I grabbed a bite at the office, James said, rubbing his eyes. Tell me how the fitting went.
Emily described the temperamental designer while James nodded absentmindedly, his eyes flickering to the phone in his hand.
Youre not listening, she remarked.
Sorry, urgent call, he typed a quick reply. What did you say?
Never mind, Emily stood. Im going to shower. Its been a long day.
The water washed away fatigue but not the anxiety. Lately James seemed distantperhaps wedding nerves, perhaps work pressure? She stepped out of the bathroom and heard James speaking softly on the phone in the bedroom.
Yes, everythings fine. No, dont worry, Ive got it under control Yes, of course Ill be there soon.
Emily froze in the hallway. Who was he speaking to so tenderly? She crept toward the door.
Ill be home shortly, James said before hanging up.
Home? He was already home. A cold knot formed in Emilys stomach. She opened the door.
Who were you talking to?
James startled, turning around.
Victor, my deputy. We were discussing tomorrows meeting.
You said youd be home soon.
What? I meant Id be at the office. I misspoke. Im exhausted, Emily.
She wanted to argue, but James already closed the distance, pulling her into his arms. A trace of expensive cologne mingled with a faint hint of perfume lingered on him. Emily dismissed the thoughtperhaps his secretary had been nearby at the meeting.
In three days Ill be Emily Mercer, James whispered. Sounds lovely, doesnt it?
She pressed against his chest, the prewedding jitters whispering doubts. What could possibly go wrong?
The next morning Emily visited her friend Kate to collect the beaded shoes she had asked Kate to embellish.
You look worried, Kate said, pouring tea. Prewedding nerves?
I dont know, Emily swirled the cup. Yesterday James was on the phone saying hed be home soon, even though he was already home. And there was that scent of perfume.
Maybe you misspoke, Kate shrugged. He runs a company with half the staff being women, so a whiff of perfume isnt unusual.
Youre probably right, Emily smiled, though unease lingered.
Are you both ready for married life? You havent even lived together.
Weve spent weekends together, gone on holidays. Thats enough to know someone.
And his parents? Youve never met them.
They live up north, elderly, cant travel, but will be at the wedding.
Strange you never visited them in ten months.
James is just busy. You know, his firm, the office in the city centre, trips abroad Kate listed. Why wont any of his business partners attend the wedding?
Victor will be there, and a few others.
Just a few? No friends?
He prefers small gatherings.
Kate glanced at Emily with lingering suspicion; shed never trusted James fully. But not every man is an open book, she reminded herself.
That night Emily decided to talk. James was scrolling through his tablet in the kitchen while she stirred a sauce.
James, I need to ask are we really ready for marriage? she began, her voice trembling.
He looked up, surprised.
What do you mean?
We still dont know much about each other. Ive never been to your house, never met your parents, I barely know your friends.
Emily, weve talked about this a hundred times, James said, setting the tablet aside. Ive been staying in your flat while my house is being renovated. Youll meet my parents at the wedding. My friends I dont have many; Im a workaholic, you know that.
But
No buts, he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. In two days youll be my wife. Well move into the new house I bought for us. A wonderful life, I promise.
Emily nodded. She had never seen the house James claimed to own; he said it would be a surprise after the wedding. The idea felt both romantic and unsettling.
Did you collect the wedding rings from the jeweller? she asked.
James froze for a moment.
Not yet. Ill pick them up tomorrow.
Maybe Ill go myself. I need to be in that area.
No! Its my responsibility. Ill take care of everything.
That night Emily lay awake, staring at the ceiling while James slept peacefully beside her. She loved him, trusted him, yet a part of her screamed that something was wrong.
The next morning James left early, saying he had to settle some work matters before the wedding. Emily stayed alone, resolve hardening. She found Victors contact in her phone and dialed.
Hello? a male voice answered.
Good afternoon, this is Emily, James Mercers fiancée. I need to confirm details for tomorrows event.
Event? Victor asked, confused.
Our wedding, Emily said, feeling a chill. Youre invited, arent you?
A long silence followed.
I dont know any James Mercer, Victor finally said. Perhaps you have the wrong number.
But youre his deputy at the construction firm
Im an accountant at a travel agency. Ive never worked in construction.
Emily sank into a chair, her legs numb. She thanked Victor and hung up, her mind racing. Who was the man she was about to marry?
Trembling, she opened her laptop and typed the company name James claimed to own. She found several firms with similar titles, but none listed a director named James Mercer. Social media yielded no trace of his projects. She dug through the photo box James had left at her place, finding his passport, a drivers licence, and a business card. The licence looked genuine, but the number on the card led to a deadend voicemail.
The front door openedJames was back. She quickly packed the papers back into the box.
What are you doing? he asked, kissing her cheek.
Looking at our photos, Emily replied, forcing a smile. Tomorrows the big day.
Ive got the rings, he said, producing a velvet box. He opened it to reveal two sparkling bands.
Beautiful, Emily whispered, her throat tightening.
Shall I try them on? he asked, holding up the smaller one.
No, she stepped back. Bad luck to try them before the ceremony.
James laughed.
Superstitious, arent we? Fine, itll be a surprise.
He smelled of expensive cologne, a hint of something sweeter. Emily dismissed it as perhaps his secretarys perfume.
Im heading to Kates for the night, Emily said. Tradition says the groom shouldnt see the bride before the ceremony.
Of course, James replied. Ill be at a friends place. See you tomorrow, love.
He kissed her slowly, as if for the last time. A tear slipped down her cheek.
At Kates flat, Emily poured out everything: the weird call to Victor, the odd inconsistencies in Jamess story, the mysterious perfume.
I think hes not who he says he is, Emily concluded, wiping her eyes.
Lets doublecheck his full name, Kate said, opening her laptop. James Ian Mercer, born 15May1979.
Date of birth?
15May1979.
Kate typed furiously, her brow furrowing.
Nothing. No press, no project mentions. Successful businessmen usually have some online footprint.
Maybe hes just very private?
Or a fraud.
Kate shook her head. Why the fake Victor? What does he want?
Money? Emily guessed. But I have none. Im a teacher.
A house?
My parents own our home. No car.
Could he be a con artist, marrying to loot?
It happens.
Kate nodded. Ive read about that. Usually the victims are wealthy, but sometimes he just wants the wedding gifts.
Emily lay awake that night, 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 him why.
The wedding was set at a modest countryside restaurant. Emily arrived an hour early to change and prepare. Guests were already gatheringher parents, friends, a few colleagues. Jamess side was conspicuously absent.
In the bridal suite, her friends helped her into the gown and fix her hair. The dress fit perfectly, yet Emily felt like she was wearing someone elses skin.
James is here, one friend announced, peeking into the room. He looks sharp in his suit!
Emilys heart raced. Soon she would see the truth.
Fifteen minutes remained before the ceremony. Emily stood by the window, watching the last guests arrive. A silver van pulled up, and a welldressed woman stepped out with three children. She spoke softly to the kids, who obediently followed her toward the restaurant entrance.
A shiver ran down Emilys spine. Something told her this was no coincidence. She slipped out of the suite and entered the main hall, where guests were already seated. James stood near the registration desk, his back to the door.
The door opened, and the woman with the children entered. The room fell silent. James turned slowly, his face blanching.
Paul? the woman asked, voice trembling. Whats happening?
Emily moved closer, still unsure of what was unfolding. Jamesor Paulstood between the two women, eyes darting.
Alice, he finally managed. What are you doing here?
What am I doing? Alices voice quivered. Your mother called me, told me you were getting married! Paul, we have three children!
The guests murmured. Emily felt the floor give way beneath her feet, clutching the nearest chair.
James? Emily called out. Who is she?
There is no James, Alice shouted. My husband is Paul Derek Clark. Hes the father of my kids. He works as a manager at a car dealership.
Emily stared at the childrentwo boys and a girl, the oldest about ten, the youngest around fourwho looked at Paul with confusion and hurt.
Dad? the older boy asked. Why are you in a suit? Is there a wedding?
Shh, Kyle, Alice scolded gently. Dad will explain everything later.
Paul finally found words.
Alice, children, lets step outside. Ill explain.
No, Alice snapped, crossing her arms. Im not leaving until I know whats going on.
Emily stepped forward, eyes locked on the man she had loved.
Who are you, really? she asked quietly. What is your name?
He lowered his head.
Paul Clark.
Are you married? she pressed.
Yes.
And these are your children?
He nodded. Emily felt something inside her snap. All those months of declarations, plans, promisesnothing but lies.
Why? she managed. Why did you pretend to be a businessman?
Paul opened his mouth, then closed it. The silence in the hall was deafening.
I didnt mean for it to go this far, he finally whispered. It just spiraled out of control.
Out of control? Emily echoed. You dated me for ten months, proposed, organized a wedding, and it all fell apart?
I met you by chance, Paul began. You were beautiful, intelligent. I wanted to impress you, so I said I ran my own company. Then I couldnt stop.
Why marry me? Alice asked, her voice raw.
Paul fell silent, eyes downcast.
I thought I could disappear after the ceremony, take the gifts, the money, and vanish, Kate interjected from the back of the room. Is that what you intended, Paul?
No! he protested. I could never do that to Emily.
But you did deceive her, Kate replied. How long did you plan to keep two families?
Paul stared at the floor, his silence louder than any confession. Alice turned to Emily.
Did you know he was married? she asked.
No, Emily admitted, shaking her head. I only learned hed been lying yesterday.
Disgusting, Alice said. Ill take the children and leave. You can stay if you want, Paul, but Im done.
She gathered her kids and walked toward the exit.
Paul stood there, surrounded by judgmental glances. Emily looked at him, no longer recognizing the man she thought she loved.
You should go, she said softly. Theres nothing left for you here.
Emily, please, I can explain
Theres nothing to explain, she replied. Just leave.
He lingered a moment longer, then turned and walked out.
Emily remained in the centre of the hall, clad in a white wedding dress, the guests hushed around her. A strange mix of emptiness and relief washed over her. Kate came over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Lets get out of here, Kate suggested. Weve paid for the banquet, the musics booked. Why not make the most of it?
What are we celebrating? Kate asked, bewildered.
My freedom, Emily said with a faint smile. Imagine if she had arrived after the ceremony, or a year later, or after we had children of our own.
She glanced at the guests.
Im sorry for this spectacle. There wont be a wedding, but the reception is paid for, the band is here. Lets just have a good time.
Emily was the first to pour herself a glass of champagne, drinking it in one gulp. Within the hour, guests were dancing, laughing, sharing stories. The sting of betrayal still burned, but something inside told her she would survive.
Late that night, after the last guests had left, Emily sat on the steps of theAs she watched the sunrise, she realized that her true strength lay in the freedom to choose her own path.
