ON MY SON’S WEDDING MORNING, OUR FAMILY DRIVER PUSHED ME INTO THE TRUNK AND THREW A BLANKET OVER …

He smiled—that beautiful, innocent smile about to be destroyed.

I left the room, composure hanging by a thread.

As I walked down the corridor, I passed the bridal preparation room.

The door was slightly ajar.

Natasha’s voice on the phone, her tone completely different.

Cold.

Calculated.

Sharp.

“After this, we’re done. We’ll be fine. He won’t know anything until it’s too late.”

My blood ran cold.

I stepped back silently before she could see me.

That voice wasn’t the woman who charmed our family.

That was someone executing a plan.

Someone who’d never loved my son.

I walked away quickly, hands trembling.

But mind clear.

In ten minutes, the ceremony would begin.

In fifteen minutes, I would end it.

The organ music swelled, filling the cathedral.

Every head turned toward the back.

The ceremony was beginning.

Guests rose to their feet.

The traditional processional started.

Bridesmaids gliding down the aisle in elegant dresses, carrying small bouquets, smiling at the crowd.

I sat in the front row, the exact spot where I’d sat at my own wedding to Bernard thirty years ago.

My hands were folded calmly in my lap.

But my heart pounded so hard I was certain everyone could hear it.

Blake stood at the altar with Tyler beside him.

Reverend Gibson positioned between them.

My son’s face showed everything.

Nervous anticipation.

Barely contained joy.

Eyes glistening with emotion as he kept glancing toward the back of the cathedral.

The music shifted.

The bridal march began.

The doors at the back opened wider.

Natasha appeared.

She was stunning.

A vision in white.

The dress fitted perfectly, flowing elegantly behind her veil, cascading down her back.

A bouquet of white roses clutched in her hands.

She looked every bit the perfect bride.

Whispers rippled through the guests.

She’s beautiful.

What a gorgeous bride.

They look so perfect together.

Natasha began her walk down the aisle, each step slow and measured, perfectly timed to the music.

Her smile was radiant.

Graceful.

Everything a bride should be.

Blake’s face transformed completely.

Pure joy.

Tears streaming down his cheeks.

He pressed his hand to his chest like his heart might burst.

I watched her approach, thinking:

She looks like an angel.

But I know better.