The Big Day Deceit

Chapter 1

A nnie’s slightly curled brown hair shimmered in the light as she slid another hairpin into place, securing her crown. She could feel the weight of the pins on her scalp as they tugged at her hair as she adjusted them. Her nose wrinkled at the pungent smell of hairspray she’d applied, the chemical odour lingering in the stagnant air of the dressing room on the first floor of the wedding hall.

She stretched the skin around her eyes, attempting to flatten the light wrinkles that formed in the corners and on her forehead. Something that Louise, Annie’s seven years younger sister, with her perfectly smooth skin, wouldn’t have to worry about just yet. Under normal circumstances, Annie normally wouldn’t care, but today wasn’t about vanity. Today, she needed to cover every wrinkle and erase every telltale trace of herself.

From a small pot, Annie loaded the tip of her finger with a soft pasty primer and filled all the gaps, hoping that Louise’s make-up artist friend knew her job well enough so she could pull it off.

A dry laugh escaped her throat as she glanced at her reflection, tilting her head from side to side. She barely recognised herself, which meant the plan might actually work. Her grin spread wider as she imagined the chaos that would erupt in less than an hour, especially her mother’s reaction when she realised it wasn’t Louise wearing the veil.

“You wanted a wedding, Mother? You’ll get one you’ll never forget.” Annie smirked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Much better.

A sparkly white purse belonging to Louise glittered in the dimly lit room as Annie rummaged through it for the foundation. Her fingers brushed against the corner of a stiff envelope, and her breath caught. She pulled it free and stared at the cream-coloured flap, the edge already too familiar.

So lucky he had to leave home early that day.

It wasn’t the first letter that had arrived from her sister, but the only one Annie had intercepted.

The memory of that morning still churned in her stomach. She’d found the stash of other letters addressed to her, shoved carelessly into Darren’s top desk drawer, their seals broken and their contents read without her knowledge.

If only she hadn’t been so consumed by grief back then—so focused on building the perfect life, the perfect lie. She hadn’t noticed the little signs at first, not until it was too late. Annie pressed her lips into a hard, thin line. Darren. That man. That liar. That piece of garbage.

“Men. All they care about is power and money.” She hissed and squeezed a dollop of foundation—a tone darker than her natural complexion—onto her index finger, then and dotted it across her face, like bigger brothers to her sun freckles.

Letting fingers of both hands dance all over her heart-shaped face, she tapped the foundation in, covering the freckles, the pale skin, the prominent cheekbones, and the wrinkles, making her look more and more like Louise.

After wiping her hands with a tissue, Annie pulled at the corner of the white envelope peeking out from the purse. A stiff card fell out, and Annie traced the embossed letters with a finger wrapped in a tissue—“Louise and Conrad, 7th of May 2022.”

Her jaws clenched. “Over my dead body,” she murmured, staring at the wedding invitation.

If only she had known sooner, it all could have been avoided.

***

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A week before the wedding ...

Annie took a sip of peppermint tea, cleansing her mouth and exhaling with relief, then pulled the blanket tighter around her body and sank deeper into the weathered, burnt sienna leather sofa.

“Thank you, sis. This is exactly what I needed.”

Louise plumped her tall and slim body onto a sofa arm, swinging her leg while taking a sip from her mug full of steamy hot chocolate. Normally, Annie would be the one having that hot chocolate instead of a cup of tea, but in her current state, peppermint was a godsend. “What did Meggie say about the wedding?”

“Oh, you know.” Louise stood up and strode to the panoramic window, setting her mug down on a work desk covered in Post-it notes. She slid the window open, letting the aroma of fresh blooms mingle with the scents of mint and chocolate.

“No, Lou, I don’t know.” Annie turned the cup in her hands, watching her sister’s slumped shoulders, clearly outlined by the bright morning light outside. “I bet she wasn’t happy, but ... ”

Louise gasped and hid her head in her hands, and then a muffled, shaky voice reached Annie. “I didn’t tell her.”

“What?” Annie jumped to her feet so quickly that she had to steady herself on the arm of the sofa as a wave of nausea and dizziness from earlier washed over her. She took a few deep breaths, hoping for the weakness to disappear. “When do you plan to tell her? The wedding is in a week!”

“I know.” Louise shifted over to the desk and stretched her neck from side to side. “I know, but how do you tell someone you love that you’re going to marry someone else?”

Annie cringed, watching her baby sister struggle. She reached her in two careful steps, placed her cup on the only coaster on the desk and touched Louise’s shoulder, wrapped in a soft fluffy jumper. “I didn’t know you had strong feelings for Meggie, I thought it was just a fling.”

Louise smiled in that sad way that reminded Annie of a puppy in the pouring rain. “No, this was always serious to me. I was just too scared to admit it.”

Annie shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows, then put her hand on Louise’s shoulder and pressed lightly to make her sister turn and face her. “So, why on Earth have you agreed to marry this guy?”

Louise opened her mouth, then pursed her lips again.

“Was it Mother?” Annie searched for a confirmation in her sister’s eyes and the slight nod was all she needed. “I knew it! They forced you to do it.”

Louise sighed. “No, they didn’t force me. And they are right, you know. This is for the best.”

“The best!” Annie threw her hands out into the air, rolling her eyes. “What did she tell you?” Annie focused her gaze on Louise’s eyes like she wanted to look inside her sister’s head.

“Well ...” Louise cocked her head. “Gosh, you’re pale. You’re sure you don’t need a doctor?” Louise reached out to her back pocket, retrieving her phone. “I can call—”

“I’m fine. Stop stalling.” Annie ambled toward the sofa as she started feeling more dizzy again. “I’ll simply lie down for a bit while you tell me everything.”

Louise followed her sister to the sofa and sat on the edge. “There is not much to tell. They need that cottage from him to unlock the inheritance, and this is the only way to get it. It’s a good deal.”

Annie smirked. “For him it is. He’s getting a pretty young wife. How old is he? Forty?”

“Forty-four, but—”

“Forty-four! Damn it! He’s seventeen years older than you.”

Louise shrugged. “What does it matter anyway? I’m not into him.”

“Exactly.” Annie made a swooping gesture with her hand and then, in a much gentler tone, asked, “So, what about you?”

Her sister sighed but said nothing.

“What about your life and dreams?”

Louise rubbed her face. “Look Annie, I love you, but you weren’t here.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Annie touched her sister’s arm as tears welled in her eyes.

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that.” Louise patted Annie’s hand. “What I meant is that I’m at their mercy as I can’t support myself yet without their money.” She raised her hand in resignation. “And Conrad is rich and when we had that coffee date, he seemed nice and promised to help with my gallery.” A low, sad chuckle escaped Louise’s mouth. “I would finally be free from our parents, you know.”

“But honey, it’s simply trading one set of chains for another—you won’t be happy. And what about Meggie?”

Louise’s whimper tore Annie’s heart apart.

“I know but what else can I do?” A whisper as light as a feather reached Annie’s ears.

“You can say no.” Annie extended her hand and stroked Louise’s long, sleek copper-brown hair.

The head under her hand shook. “I tried. They don’t listen.”

Annie perked up. “So, you told them you don’t want to get married.”

“Yes, but they didn’t take me seriously.” Louise buried her head in her hands.

“Look at me.” Annie lightly touched the olive skin of her sister’s hand. “If you don’t want to get married, they can’t force you.”

Louise looked at Annie with her glistening puppy eyes. “You know Mother, I can’t just say no. She wants me to get married and she will make me. Besides, if they cut me off, then I’m screwed.”

Louise swallowed hard and her gaze wandered toward Annie’s belly. A small smile softened her facial features, making her look less haggard.

“And how am I going to help you and my niece or nephew when I won’t have money for rent?”

Annie dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand, although she had to clear her throat and blink away the sudden moisture in her own eyes. The warmth around her heart expanded. She wasn’t alone. And there was no reality in which she would let her baby sister suffer at their parents’ hands. One daughter was enough.

“I’ve got an idea.”

Annie clasped her hands, and her face cracked a mischievous smile, accompanied by light wrinkles and freckles.

“I give them a hell of a wedding, one they will never forget, and there will be no way for them to wriggle out of this one.” A low growl escaped her throat. “And I’ll tell them it was all my idea, which, frankly, would be true, so they won’t have a reason to act it out on you. Plus—” Annie lifted her finger. “Mother will probably need to leave the country to avoid the humiliation.”

***

?

A buzz from her mobile phone jolted Annie back to reality. She checked her smart watch—half an hour to go. Then she tapped at her phone and read the text message notification.

Lou: Just landed. It’s gorgeous here and hot. On the way to the hotel now. Good luck sis xx

A wide grin cracked Annie’s face, and she giggled like a little boy who had just pulled off the best prank of his life. The Canary Islands trip had been Meggie’s idea, but it worked well with Annie’s plan. Much easier to keep her sister out of their mother’s reach when she wasn’t physically here and could not be dragged back like a misbehaving child.

“Oh Mother, you’ll wish I was never born.” Annie sniggered as she darkened her long eyelashes, making her emerald green eyes stand out even more.

“Selling Lou like an animal on the market!” She spat out before covering her lips with a raspberry-shaded lip gloss. “Real Catholic, my ass.”

As she finished applying her makeup, Annie could hear the muffled sound of church bells ringing.

The bright sunlight streaming in through the window cast elaborate patterns of light and shadow on the old-fashioned dresser, highlighting its intricate carvings and adding depth to the space.

“And you too.” She flicked at the wedding invitation with a smirk. “A filthy rich man buying his wife. I bet you’re a real jerk if no woman wanted you, mister.”

Annie rose from the stool, her muscles sighing in relief, and slipped into her crimson stilettos—the only high heels she owned. There was no way in the world she could wear her sister’s wedding shoes, which were at least a full size too big.

The deep shade of the shoes contrasted sharply against the pale cream colour of the wedding dress. It was a miracle the dress fit. While Louise was slim and tall, Annie was the one with the curves and full body; however, the last six months had taken a toll and for once, she was the skinny one.

Annie touched her belly. Not for long, though. It would start showing in a month or two.

She squinted, shading her eyes, and twirled around. The skirts swooshed, and the myriads of tiny zirconias twinkled in the bright afternoon sun. It wasn’t her style, but it was never about style with her parents. Appearances. That’s what they cared about. Especially Mother.

“What will people say, Mother?” She laughed, inhaling the musty smell of the old dressing room, with a worn-out sofa and an old-fashioned dresser complete with a mirror that was a little cloudy around the edges but still served its purpose. Heavy volumes filled the bookshelves, their spines worn with age, smelling of leather and dust.

The room darkened. Annie glanced through the wide panoramic window—a tiny cloud on a pale blue sky.

Her high heels clicked on the wooden floorboards, echoing through the empty room, as she glided toward the window, the rustling of the dress’s fabric against her skin creating a soft, whooshing sound that filled the space.

She gazed at the breathtaking view of the surrounding lush green parks stretched for miles, enhanced with flower beds and benches under old oak trees promising a lazy afternoon in the shade.

“What a perfect day.” She chewed on her lip until the artificial raspberry taste of lip gloss made her stop.

A sudden shiver ran through her, so she draped the white lace shawl around her shoulders and arms. The softness of the delicate fabric against her skin did little to the goosebumps on her bare forearms. Annie rubbed her hands together to warm up a little.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her rush back to the mirror.

“I’ll be a minute.”

She shouted toward the door with pins between her teeth while battling a layered veil—the only thing that would make the charade work long enough.

After pulling the veil over her face, she picked up the purse, shoved the invite and the phone in, and winked at her reflection, like it was her buddy in crime. The door squeaked, and her mother’s face, as distinguished and perfect as Annie could remember, appeared in the cracks. Annie could feel her heart racing and her palms sweating as she tried to keep her composure.

Showtime.

***

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C onrad glanced at the pitch-black titanium smartwatch secured on his left wrist with a black leather strap. The old-fashioned clock face showed five past two in the afternoon.

Where the hell was she?

Brushing off a speck of dust from his custom-made jacket, he scanned the crowd gathered in the Roman chapel. The only people he knew here were his distant cousin Tom, an older lady who had been with the company for generations, his accountant doubling as his witness, and Colton, his driver—someone who probably knew Conrad better than anyone else.

The people in the pews, dressed in their finest clothes, murmured to each other in hushed voices.

What if she changed her mind?

Candles flickered in the gusts coming through the open main entrance. Conrad shivered, shifting his body weight from one leg to another. The overwhelming scent of freshly cut flowers couldn’t cover the musky smell of the old and damp chapel. The columns filtered the little light coming through the stained glass windows, casting long shadows.

A priest appeared at the side door and strolled toward Conrad.

“How’re you doing, son? Nervous?” His jovial tone, round face, and intelligent eyes watching from behind rimmed glasses reminded Conrad of his old college professor. The only difference between the two men was the embroidered white robe worn by the priest.

“A little bit.” Conrad tapped his watch. “How long before we start?”

The priest joined his hands in a praying gesture. “Soon, with God’s help.”

“Is there a problem?” Conrad felt a knot form in his stomach.

The priest put a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing to worry about, my son, I’m sure. The mother of the bride went to check on her and when Mrs Simmons sets her mind on something, nobody can stop her.” He chuckled, and Conrad joined him with a faint smile. “And now, if you excuse me, I need to prepare a few things.”

Conrad watched as the priest made his way to the altar, his white stole billowing behind him.

His mind wandered to that day several weeks ago when Richard, the father of the bride, had approached him with an offer to buy his cottage.

As much as Conrad needed the money, the no-sell clause on the cottage meant he couldn’t do it. Unless ...

Unless he considered a most ridiculous proposal. Richard had offered his daughter’s hand for the cottage. It had sounded preposterous at first. Him getting married? And to whom? A woman he had never met and who was way too young for him?

But Richard had had a point. Conrad couldn’t sell the cottage, and Richard and his wife, Maureen, needed it to unlock the inheritance from Maureen’s late mother, Grandma Ann. They had thrown Louise’s trust fund to make up for his loss, which had been set to mature on the first month’s wedding anniversary.

A bit too old-fashioned if you asked me.

Like the whole emancipation thing had never happened in that family, but hey, not his place to comment on other people’s lives. They had requested the fund to be invested in a prosperous countryside club. Well, Conrad had other ideas about spending the trust fund money, but they didn’t need to know about that.

It all made sense on paper. Under any other circumstances, adding such a gem to his chain of family inns would be a dream come true, even at the expense of the cottage. Under any other circumstances, he would not consider the arranged marriage, though. As pathetic as it might sound, he believed in relationships out of love. Under any other circumstances ...

Not that he planned to get married, ever. What was the point? To have his heart broken in a more expensive way? At least this deal was honest—a financial arrangement. No hiding behind pretend feelings of love that were never there.

Conrad blinked and checked his watch—quarter past two.

What if she didn’t show up? What if she saw through his motives and ran away? He couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity.

Nah, it’s just my nerves talking.

Louise had seemed fragile and kind of lost in that oversized jumper of hers, and a knitted vest on top, when she had sat in the coffee shop’s corner where they had met four weeks ago. The age difference between them had been apparent. Her defect-free, soft, youthful face and shiny, sleek hair had compared starkly to his weathered face and short salt-and-pepper hair. From the moment he had met her, Conrad had had this protective feeling, like being her older brother.

And that, actually, had decided it for him. A companionship. Someone he could care about without expecting anything back. Conrad spent his days working anyway, so he could make such a marriage work if she was willing to. And she had seemed okay with this crazy idea, God knows why. Although he suspected that his promise to help with her photo gallery, which he intended to keep, was the tipping point for her.

Well, the only promise he could afford to keep. If she showed up.

Conrad scratched his chin.

Besides, they didn’t need to stay married forever. If she was really unhappy with him, Conrad wouldn’t stand in her way. As long as he had the fund money, so a month would do. Was he asking for too much?

As Conrad stood there, deep in thought, a sudden movement caught his attention. The father of the bride dashed for the door, pretending he wasn’t running. Conrad’s heart sank even further.

I knew it.

The silence was deafening as they waited for the bride to appear. His palms began to sweat, so he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. The chapel was still chilly despite the warm May day outside. The old Roman walls kept everything in the shade, defusing the light and making everything look gloomy.

After a few more minutes that seemed like hours, the organ music boomed, and the bride began her walk down the aisle. She held her head high, her movements exuding beauty, defiance, and—was that stubbornness?

Richard, her father, scuttled at her side, struggling to keep pace. The failed attempt to link arms didn’t escape Conrad’s notice, nor did the fake, strained smile plastered across the older man’s face. But that didn’t hold his attention for long. No, it was her—the bride.

He watched as she walked toward him, her veil covering her face, and his heart began to race. There was something different about her. The way she moved, for one. Confident, deliberate, as if daring anyone to challenge her presence. Her hips swayed in a rhythm that made his pulse quicken, the curves of her body filling out the dress in ways he hadn’t expected. The tight bodice framed her chest, highlighting every detail of her femininity, as though the dress itself struggled to contain her.

Conrad blinked, momentarily stunned. Was this the same woman he’d met in the coffee shop? The one who’d sat at the far end of the table in baggy clothes, shrinking into herself, her eyes fixed on her mug as if it were a lifeline? He remembered her then as pretty, yes, but reserved, almost timid. This woman, walking toward him now, was someone else entirely.

Maybe it’s the dress? He scratched his chin. Or the makeup? Makeup could do wonders, couldn’t it? The smoky eyeliner, the bold lipstick, the contouring—all of it made her look older, more striking. More confident. Or maybe she was warming up to the idea of their marriage, finding strength in the decision.

A spark of hope flickered in his chest at that thought as his gaze locked on her every step.

When she reached the altar, Richard took her hand and placed it in Conrad’s. Her slim hand was warm, her grip surprisingly firm for someone with such delicate fingers. Conrad clasped it in his own rough, callused hand, and for a moment, he felt something unexpected—a spark of connection.

The priest stepped forward, clearing his throat, but Conrad couldn’t tear his gaze away. The bride lifted her veil, and everything else in the room fell away.

Emerald green eyes locked onto his, fierce and unflinching. They sparkled under the candlelight with a fire he hadn’t noticed before—no, a fire that hadn’t been there before. Her full lips curved ever so slightly, promising more than he dared to dream of. She looked mature, self-assured, and entirely unlike the shy woman he’d first met.

For a moment, doubt tugged at the edges of his thoughts.

Why does she seem so different? Was this just the glow of the wedding? A trick of the lighting? Or maybe—

Maybe she’s finally showing me who she really is.

A rush of primal admiration overtook him, silencing the questions in his head. He had never noticed her charm like this before, and he inwardly cursed himself for being so blind. Brotherly? There was nothing brotherly about how he felt now.

Y ou lucky bastard. ?