8. Marianne Vance
Chapter eight
Marianne Vance
The air in the bridal suite smelled heavily of aerosol hairspray and expensive champagne. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a private, manicured courtyard.
I sat perfectly still in the center of the room, wrapped in a silk robe, while a makeup artist meticulously blended powder across my cheekbones.
All around me, the space vibrated with chaotic energy.
My mother was pouring fresh mimosas at the corner table, chatting with the photographer.
Nearby, the hairstylist touched up a bridesmaid’s curls.
It looked exactly like the day I’d envisioned when I first started planning this wedding.
Staring at my own reflection, I studied the woman in the glass. My dark hair was pinned into an intricate, flawless chignon. There was no sign of anger, sleepless nights, or resentment. I offered the room the picture-perfect image of a blissful bride.
In the corner of the mirror’s reflection, I caught sight of Harper.
She was perched on the edge of a velvet ottoman, already wearing her blush-pink bridesmaid gown. A full mimosa sat completely untouched on the table beside her.
There was a small bruise on her collarbone, and she was smiling. Whatever doubts she’d entertained in the past, she’d discarded them entirely. I had a feeling I knew exactly why.
“Marianne, you look absolutely stunning,” she called out. “Daniel is going to fall apart when he sees you.”
“Thanks, Harp,” I said. “But I certainly hope that won’t happen. I still need my husband after the wedding.”
Everyone laughed, though it hadn’t been that good of a joke. Harper brought the glass to her lips without actually drinking.
“Alright, ladies,” the photographer shouted, adjusting the flash on his camera. “Let’s get the bride into her dress.”
The makeup artist quickly packed up her brushes. The room cleared out as the other bridesmaids stepped into the hallway, leaving only my mother and Harper behind to help me change.
I stood up, letting the silk robe pool at my feet.
My mother carefully lifted the wedding gown off its padded hanger.
The dress was an elegant, classy design, embroidered with delicate lace details and flowing from the waist in sleek waves of satin.
As I stepped into it and my mother pulled the bodice up over my shoulders, the sheer weight of the fabric settled over me. It felt incredibly final.
“Harper, come do the buttons,” my mother instructed, stepping back to carefully dab a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m going to ruin my makeup before the ceremony even starts.”
Harper pushed herself up from the ottoman. She crossed the room and stepped directly behind me. Our eyes met in the reflection of the large vanity mirror.
“Thank you,” I told her. “I know being a maid of honor is exhausting. But having you stand up there next to me, supporting Daniel and me as we start our life together… it means everything.”
“That’s my line, Marianne,” she replied. “Thanks for having me here, by your side. These last few weeks… They’ve been so special. I only wish we had a little more time before Daniel steals you away.”
What a fucking hypocrite. She wished for no such thing.
“I’ll always be your sister,” I replied, “no matter what. We’re family. And who knows? Soon, maybe I’ll be the one helping you with your wedding dress.”
“That sounds perfect,” Harper offered, fastening the final button at the nape of my neck. I wondered if she was thinking about strangling me with my own veil.
“Perfect,” my mother repeated, walking back over. She adjusted the hem, making sure the satin fell flawlessly against the floor. “The coordinator just texted. We have ten minutes before the procession starts. I’m going to go find my seat in the front row. I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
My mother kissed my cheek and hurried out the door. Harper followed her, eager to be away from me. Her ability to put on a doting sister act had clearly reached its limits.
The door clicked shut, leaving me completely alone in the sudden quiet.
I released a long, slow breath, letting the tension drop from my shoulders. The performance was draining. And the hardest part was yet to come. I still had to agree to marry a man who saw me as a meal ticket.
I’d never admit it to anyone, but a part of me couldn’t help but feel leery of the simple concept. I’d dreamed so long about my wedding day. On some level, I wondered if Daniel had taken that from me, too.
Maybe he had. But that was the whole point of today. I was an architect, and I could rebuild things. I’d use Daniel’s destruction to craft my own future and a new dream.
A quiet tap sounded against the wood of the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I said.
The door opened, and Elias stepped fully into the room.
He wore a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a dark tie.
The perfectly tailored lines made every muscle in his body stand out.
The memory of his weighty “We’ll talk” drifted through my head.
This here could be the beginning of that new dream, if I could manage it.
Elias walked directly over to the side table, his gaze sweeping over my dress and the immaculate styling of my hair. He picked up my bridal bouquet of white hydrangeas and turned to face me.
“Leo is in the A/V booth,” Elias said. “He’s all set. My security team is positioned at the main exits, and Reverend Thomas has the legal marriage license sitting on the altar.”
He handed me the bouquet. The stems were wrapped in cool silk ribbon.
“And Daniel?” I asked, gripping the flowers.
“He’s standing at the front of the hall,” Elias replied, a faint shadow of disgust hardening his features. “Shaking hands, slapping backs, and playing the lottery winner.”
I looked down at the white petals. This was really happening.
Elias stepped closer. He reached out and rested his hand lightly on my shoulder.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked, searching my eyes for any sign of hesitation.
“The officiant is going to have you sign the license publicly to finalize the ceremony. Once your name is in ink, he will be legally bound to a ghost.”
“I’m ready,” I said. I refused to lose my nerve now.
“Keep your head clear,” he murmured, giving my shoulder a single, reassuring squeeze before letting his hand drop. “Let him put on his show. Sign the paper. Then step back and let the house fall down.”
“I’ll see you on the other side,” I promised.
Elias offered me a nod. For a few priceless moments, he kept staring at me, as if he wanted to say something else. In the end, he stayed silent. He slipped back out into the hallway like a ghost.
A few minutes later, the venue coordinator knocked and announced it was time.
I walked out of the suite and moved down the corridor toward the main reception hall. The layout of the building meant I had to wait behind a set of wooden doors at the back of the room. A live string quartet began playing a slow, sweeping instrumental piece.
The doors swung open.
I stepped into the aisle.
The Glass Conservatory was breathtaking in the late afternoon. Sunlight poured through the massive glass panes overhead, casting long rays across the concrete floor. The guests stood up from their chairs, turning to look at me.
My focus immediately went to the front rows.
Elias’s seating chart was perfectly executed. Vincent Sterling and the other brokerage executives were watching the procession with polite interest. Just across the aisle, my mother was standing right beside Daniel’s beaming parents.
Then, I looked at the altar.
Harper stood to the left. She held her bouquet in a relaxed grip, unflinching. None of what was happening today mattered to her, not anymore.
Daniel waited in the center, dressed in the tailored grey suit he’d paid for with my money.
As I walked toward him, his eyes filled with tears.
He wiped a stray drop from his cheek and let out a shaky breath.
It wasn’t just a performance. It was the genuine response of a drowning man who believed he had finally secured a life raft.
I reached the end of the aisle and handed my bouquet to Harper. Our fingers brushed briefly. Her skin was ice cold.
I turned and faced Daniel. He took both of my hands in his, his thumbs gently stroking the back of my knuckles.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”
“Thank you,” I whispered back. I didn’t bother with a final lie. There was no point in that anymore.
Reverend Thomas opened his leather-bound book and looked out at the gathered crowd.
“Welcome, family and friends,” he began, his voice echoing clearly through the quiet room.
“We are here today to witness the union of Daniel and Marianne. Marriage is a vow of absolute trust. It requires stripping away all pretenses to stand before one another in complete honesty, forsaking all others.”
As I stood at the altar, the sheer surrealism of the moment washed over me. One hundred and fifty people were holding their breath to witness a lie. Daniel held my hands, his thumbs resting motionless against my knuckles.
“Daniel, please repeat after me,” Reverend Thomas instructed. “I, Daniel, take you, Marianne, to be my wedded wife.”
Daniel locked his eyes onto mine with a fierce intensity. “I, Daniel, take you, Marianne, to be my wedded wife.”
“To have and to hold, from this day forward.”
“To have and to hold, from this day forward,” he repeated seamlessly.
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer.”
It was almost obscene. He looked a priest dead in the eye and swore a vow of financial fidelity without a single tremor of guilt. He never even seemed to register that everything he said completely went against his plans.
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer.”
“Forsaking all others, as long as we both shall live.”
“Forsaking all others,” Daniel vowed. “As long as we both shall live.”
As long as he needed to drain my accounts, he meant. Lying scumbag.
“Marianne,” Reverend Thomas said, turning to me. “Please repeat after me. I, Marianne, take you, Daniel…”
I didn’t falter as the Reverend fed me the lines. I repeated them exactly as prompted. I swore to love Daniel. I swore to honor him. I promised to stay with him in sickness and in health.
As I spoke, a strange feeling swept over me.
It wasn’t relief, not exactly. Mostly, it was the realization that if things had been different, I would have stayed with him all my life.
I’d have been happy to bind our lives together, no matter what challenges we’d have to face.
And I never would have known he was trash.
“Beautiful,” Reverend Thomas said, bringing the vows to a close. “Now, the rings.”
Harper stepped forward. She dropped a simple gold band into my palm and actually dared to give me a ‘thumbs up’. Greg stepped up from Daniel’s side, handing over a diamond-encrusted ring.
Daniel slid the cold, heavy metal onto my ring finger. I took the gold band and did the same for him. My hands were remarkably steady.
“Before I pronounce you husband and wife,” Reverend Thomas announced, gesturing to a small oak table set up to the side of the altar, “Daniel and Marianne have chosen to sign their marriage license right here in front of you, as a public declaration of the binding legal commitment they are making today.”
Daniel tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. We walked the few short steps to the table. The official document sat on top, waiting for ink.
Daniel picked up the brass pen first, signing his name with a quick stroke. Then he turned toward me and beamed. In his mind, he had just crossed the finish line. He had legally anchored himself to my bank accounts. Now, I just had to fall into his trap.
He handed the pen to me.
I took it. I looked down at the parchment. The scratch of the pen sounded impossibly loud as I placed the tip against the designated line and signed Marianne Brooks.
The ink dried. The trap snapped permanently shut. Except it wouldn’t work as he’d planned it.
We walked back to the center of the altar, turning to face the Reverend.
“By the power vested in me by the state,” Reverend Thomas declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Daniel, you may kiss your bride.”
Daniel grabbed my waist and pulled me in. He kissed me hard—a possessive, triumphant press of his mouth against mine. A wave of loud cheers and applause broke over us from the audience, followed immediately by the string quartet launching into an upbeat tune.
Pulling back, Daniel grinned wildly. He leaned his forehead against mine, breathless with his own victory.
“We did it,” he whispered.
I looked at the man who had stolen two years of my life and slept with my sister.
“Yes,” I agreed. “We did it.”
We turned to face the cheering crowd. Linking our arms, we began the recessional walk back down the aisle.
I nodded at my mother in the front row. I locked eyes briefly with Vincent Sterling.
We moved past the meticulously set tables, my gaze lifting over the heads of the guests to the massive white projector screen rolled tightly into the ceiling.
Officially, I was Marianne Vance now. And that woman, Daniel’s wife, would rip him to pieces.