Before I said I Do

Prologue

The doors opened.

Every head in the hall turned toward me.

The music started softly. Violins. Sweet. Beautiful. Everything a wedding should be.

I stood there in white, holding a bouquet that suddenly felt heavier than it should. My father squeezed my arm gently, proud, unaware that the man waiting at the altar had destroyed me only hours ago.

At the end of the aisle, Brett Coulter smiled at me.

God, he looked perfect.

Sharp suit. Confident posture. That familiar smile once made my knees weak.

He thought he had won.

He thought I was walking toward him to become his wife.

He had no idea I was walking toward him to end him.

Step by step, I moved closer. The guests whispered about how beautiful I looked. His so-called stepmother dabbed her eyes dramatically with a tissue. The little boy beside her swung his legs under the chair, bored, innocent.

My stomach twisted.

Not from nerves.

From rage.

The priest began the ceremony. Words floated around me, but I barely heard them. My eyes stayed on Brett. He looked so calm. So confident.

When it was time for vows, he went first.

"Rosey," he said, his voice soft and practised, "from the moment I met you, I knew you were the only woman for me. I promise to love you faithfully, to honour you, to build a life with you. Nothing will ever come between us. Only death will separate us."

Applause.

Smiles.

Sniffles from the crowd.

I almost laughed.

My turn.

I stepped closer. Took the microphone.

"I spent two years loving you," I began. My voice didn't shake. "Two years believing I was the only woman in your world."

He squeezed my hand, playing the part.

I pulled my hand away.

"I believed every promise. Every late night call. Every lie."

A murmur rippled through the guests.

Brett's smile stiffened.

"But this morning," I continued, "I found something interesting."

I reached behind me and pulled out a white envelope.

"And since we're making vows today, I think honesty would be a good place to start."

The hall grew quiet.

"Should I tell them," I asked softly, staring at him, "about your stepmother?"

The woman in the front row froze.

"Or should I tell them about your son?"

Gasps exploded across the room.

Brett's face drained of colour. "Rosey, what are you doing?" he whispered harshly.

"Oh, I'm finishing what you started," I replied.

I pulled out the photos first.

Hotel receipts next.

A birth certificate.

DNA results.

"And to everyone here," I said, turning slowly to face the guests, "the woman he calls his stepmother is his lover. And the little boy you all know as his stepbrother?"

I looked directly at the child, then back at Brett.

"That's his son."

Silence.

Then chaos.

The so-called stepmother stood up, screaming. Brett grabbed my arm. Cameras flashed as someone began recording.

"You're ruining everything!" he hissed.

I smiled for the first time that day.

"No," I said calmly. "You ruined it. I'm just exposing it."

I dropped the bouquet at his feet.

"There will be no wedding."

As the hall erupted into shouting, accusations, and flashing phones, I lifted my dress slightly and walked back down the aisle alone.

They called my name.

They begged.

He begged.

I never turned around.

Because cancelling the wedding was not revenge.

It was only the beginning.