Chapter 29 Mia
Mia
Inside the chapel, everything is lit with that golden, late-afternoon glow that makes even the hard edges of reality look soft for a moment.
The pews are filled, guests murmuring to each other, the smell of flowers thick in the air.
I slip quietly into my spot near the front with the other bridesmaids, my hands folded in my lap, trying to keep them from trembling.
Sarah is radiant as she enters, my father steady at her side. There’s a hush as everyone stands. She glances briefly my way—her face unreadable, already somewhere far away. I wish I could reach her, whisper something comforting, anything. But there’s a whole aisle, a whole world between us now.
Jason is waiting at the altar, shoulders set, a tight smile stretched across his face. I watch him watch Sarah, and all I can see are the lies, the damage, everything I wish she could see for herself. My chest aches, but I force myself to breathe, to be still.
The minister’s voice rings out, calm and practiced, guiding them through the vows, the familiar litany about love, trust, and forever. The words seem to echo off the stained glass, filling the air with a kind of false hope.
I look around and see Tyler and Alexander standing along the wall, both tense, both watching everything with the same helplessness I feel. Marcus is nowhere in sight. I hope he’s alright.
As the ceremony builds, my mind drifts to childhood sleepovers, to long talks in the dark, to the way Sarah used to make me laugh so hard I’d cry. How did we end up here—her on the edge of a promise she doesn’t understand, me in a dress I wish I could shed like old skin?
My throat is tight. Still, I stand up straighter, willing myself to look steady and composed, even as my heart pounds.
If this is goodbye, I want to do it with dignity.
I want to be able to tell myself, years from now, that I tried everything—that I was here, loving her, even when she couldn’t see it.
The music swells as the minister asks if anyone objects. The pause hangs in the air, heavier than stone. I find myself holding my breath, hoping for a miracle.
Then the doors at the back of the chapel open with a creak that sounds deafening in the hush.
Heads turn. A woman strides in, purposeful and unflinching—tall, striking, her dark hair pulled back in a severe twist, her black suit a stark contrast to the pastel flowers everywhere.
She doesn’t hesitate. Her voice rings out, clear and certain: “I object.”
A collective gasp moves through the guests. Jason goes pale, his eyes darting wildly as the woman continues walking, straight down the aisle. The minister, taken aback, manages, “Excuse me, who are you?”
She stops only a few steps from the altar and lifts her chin. “I’m his wife.”
Everything seems to freeze—the music, the minister, even Sarah’s breath. For a second, I can’t move, can’t even process what I’m hearing. It’s like the world has tilted on its axis.
Then, behind her, another man enters, led by Marcus.
He looks exhausted but determined, a battered satchel in one hand, suit a bit rumpled.
Marcus leans in, talking to him in hushed tones as they edge closer to the front.
My mind races, connecting the dots. This must be the PI, and the woman is the proof he was bringing.
I stare, mouth agape, pulse thundering in my ears. Well, shit.
It’s chaos now, whispers bursting into frantic conversation, all eyes on Jason, who stands speechless at the altar.
The chapel is a storm of whispers and confusion, but the woman stands her ground at the end of the aisle. She holds her head high, hands trembling only slightly as she faces the minister and the entire stunned congregation.
“My name is Alana Reyes,” she says, voice strong and clear. “I married Jason Turner in Los Angeles seven years ago. We were never divorced. I have the papers. I have photos. I even have messages from him this week, begging me to keep quiet. I can show you all of it right now.”
She pulls out documents from her bag, spreading them across the edge of a pew—a marriage certificate, letters, even a handful of printed texts. A hush falls, heavy with disbelief and outrage.
Jason, still at the altar, doesn’t move at first. His face is pale and slick with sweat.
Then he snaps back to life, shaking his head. “I don’t even know her! This is insane! She’s a grifter—someone paid her to do this, to ruin my life!”
But Alana meets his denial with cold certainty, holding up a wedding photo for all to see.
“This is us. This is you, Jason. You think you can walk away from everything and start over with a new life? Not without consequences. Here’s our marriage license.
These are our bank statements. He left me with debt and a trail of angry creditors.
I’ve spent years trying to find him.” She glances, almost gently, at Sarah, who looks as if she might faint.
Beside me, Sarah’s knees suddenly buckle, her face ashen. I lunge forward, catching her just before she collapses. She clings to my arm, the fight gone out of her.
“Take me out of here,” she whispers, her voice so fragile it barely carries over the chaos.
“Come on,” I murmur, guiding her gently away from the front, just wanting to get her out before she breaks in front of everyone.
But Jason suddenly blocks our way, face twisted, spit flying as he screams. “Don’t you dare leave, Sarah! This is all a setup—she’s lying, Mia’s lying, all of them are out to get me!”
I stand tall, keeping Sarah behind me, feeling a strange calmness settle over me, even as my heart hammers. “Have some shame, Jason. Haven’t you done enough?”
That only throws him deeper into fury.
He turns to the crowd, voice booming. “If anyone here wants the truth, ask her about Tyler, Alexander, and Marcus. That’s right—she’s been screwing all three of them. Ask them where she spent this morning. You want to talk about shame?”
People are staring—faces I’ve known for years, relatives, old friends, all their eyes suddenly burning holes in me.
My father’s face is unreadable, but his cheeks have turned red, his fists balled at his sides.
He already had some indication I was with the guys, but he didn’t have the full picture.
And now my secret is out in the world, the pure love I felt only hours before rotting into shame.
I feel the humiliation hot on my cheeks, my throat tight with shame and anger. Tyler, Alexander, and Marcus step forward, moving to block Jason, their faces set, protective.
Jason sneers, spreading his arms wide. “Ah, here come her lapdogs. Going to fight her battles for her, as always?”
Humiliation burns through me, raw and ugly. Tears run down my eyes.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Marcus says.
“That’s rich,” Jason laughs. “Coming from a guy who’s fucking someone who could practically be his daughter. And sharing her with your brothers? You reek of desperation.”
He looks around the crowd. Some people have their phones out capturing the whole thing. Sarah is sobbing in my arms. Jason looks like a madman, almost frothing at his lips.
“They’re trying to manipulate you,” Jason says, looking at whoever will hold eye contact with him. “All of you, and you’re letting them.”
“Really?” I say quietly. “What’s the truth, Anton? That you didn’t kill your fiancée?”
“I didn’t kill her,” he says.
I smile. “So your name is Anton. Anton Watson.”
Jason looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
“We’ve got him,” Tyler says, referring to the people who caught all of that on camera.
My work here is done. I try to drag Sarah out.
“That’s right, whore,” Jason says. “Get out of here.”
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he got to me, even though all I want to do is to sink into the floor. Then, in the middle of the chaos, there’s a sickening sound—a solid, wet crunch. Jason howls in pain, doubling over, clutching his face.
I look up, heart pounding. My dad stands over Jason, hand still balled into a fist, eyes blazing. His voice is ice-cold and full of fury as he towers over the man who ruined everything.
“Don’t you fucking talk to my daughter like that. Not ever.”
The chapel is dead silent now, filled with nothing but Jason’s moans and my father’s heavy breathing. I stand rooted to the spot, arm around Sarah, the enormity of it all crashing over me.
For a split second, Sarah pulls away from me, and I think—God, is she really going to help him? The chapel feels breathless, everyone watching, waiting to see which way she’ll go.
Sarah steps right up to Jason, her face blotchy with tears, hands shaking.
Jason reaches for her, desperation all over him. “Sarah, please, I can explain, just let me—”
But her hand flashes out and catches him hard across the cheek, the sound echoing in the stunned silence. Jason reels, clutching his jaw, shocked.
“That’s for trying to manipulate me. For stealing from me. For turning me against everyone I love,” Sarah says, her voice breaking but fierce. Her hand lingers in the air a second, and then she lets it drop, shoulders squared, eyes blazing with new clarity.
Before Jason can even recover, Alana steps forward. She pulls something from her purse—a tall, half-melted iced coffee—and with absolute calm, tips it over Jason’s head. Cold liquid and ice dribble down his hair and suit, soaking his collar and splashing onto his shoes.
She smiles, wicked and triumphant. “You know, I never got to do that,” she says, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
He splutters, coughing, soaked and humiliated, everyone watching as his world finally, completely unravels.
Sarah turns away, shoulders squared, her eyes bright with tears—but for the first time in ages, she doesn’t look lost at all.
As she makes her way back to me, the tension in her face finally melts.
I can’t help it—I pull her into my arms and she holds me tight, both of us shaking a little, not caring who sees.
It’s not perfect, not simple, but for this moment, it’s enough.
We hold on like we’re fourteen again, like we’ve come through a storm and are just now learning how to breathe again.
My dad steps forward, laying a gentle hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here. I’ve called the cops—Jason won’t be hurting anyone anymore.” Sarah nods, wiping her eyes, relief and exhaustion in her posture.
But before we can follow him, Tyler, Alexander, and Marcus step between us and the aisle, blocking the way, their faces soft but determined.
“Wait,” Tyler says quietly. “There’s one thing left.”
I look at my dad, uncertain, but he just smiles and gives a little nod, letting me know it’s okay. The three of them turn to face the crowd, the whole chapel still buzzing with shock and curiosity.
Tyler takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.
His voice is clear, and his eyes are only on me.
“Since everyone’s here, I guess there’s no better time to say it.
Mia, I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the day you first called me out on my bullshit.
I want everyone to know how lucky I am.”
Alexander stands on my other side, reaching for me as well. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Mia. All of you. You make us better—every single day.”
Marcus squeezes my shoulder, his touch grounding me as always. “I love you too. Not just for today, or when things are easy, but for all the days when they’re not. You’re family, and you always will be.”
The chapel is silent, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels like a blessing, a deep exhale after holding my breath for too long. I feel the truth of it in every cell, in the way they look at me, the way the fear and shame finally slip away.
Sarah smiles through her tears, squeezing my hand.
Before I can fully process what’s happening, Tyler, Alexander, and Marcus all drop to their knees in front of me—right there in the middle of the chapel, surrounded by stunned guests and family.
My heart stutters, overwhelmed by the sight of these three men, all so different, all so fiercely devoted, humbling themselves before me.
Tyler grins, cheeks flushed. “We’re not perfect, Mia, but we love you. We’ll spend every day proving it, if you’ll let us.”
Alexander reaches for my hand, his eyes steady and open. “You’re the only one for me. I want to spend my life making you happy—whatever that looks like.”
Marcus’s voice is low and sincere as he glances up at my dad. “Sir, we know this isn’t exactly how you imagined things. We’re sorry for all the worry we’ve caused, and for putting Mia through so much. But we love her, and we promise we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her—and to you.”
For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause, waiting for someone to breathe again. Then my dad chuckles, warm and teary-eyed. “What are you waiting for, sweetheart? Go get them.”
The whole room seems to exhale at once. My eyes fill with happy tears as I drop to my knees too, throwing my arms around all three of them. “I love you so much. All of you.”