Chapter 1: The Photos Above the Altar
The first photograph appeared just as the officiant asked if anyone had a reason to stop the wedding.
I thought it was part of our engagement slideshow.
Then I saw my future husband kissing another woman.
And the date beneath the photograph was three days before our wedding.
My name is Nia Carter. I was twenty-nine years old, standing inside St. Andrew's Church in a custom-made ivory wedding gown, surrounded by 180 people who had come to celebrate what I believed was the happiest day of my life.
For four years, I had loved Marcus Reed.
He was charming, successful, attentive, and the kind of man who remembered small things. He knew I hated carnations, preferred my coffee without sugar, and always wanted the bedroom window slightly open at night.
He had proposed on a beach in Charleston, with a photographer hiding behind a palm tree and a diamond ring that cost more than my first car.
When I said yes, he cried.
I remembered that now.
I remembered his tears, his trembling hands, and the way he whispered, "I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you happy.""
I had believed every word.
Behind the altar, the enormous projection screen had been showing photographs from our relationship.
There was Marcus on one knee at the beach.
Marcus dancing with my mother at our engagement party.
Marcus kissing my forehead outside the restaurant where we had our first date.
Then the screen flickered.
A new photograph appeared.
Marcus was standing outside a luxury hotel, his arms wrapped around a woman wearing a red dress.
Her face was turned toward the camera.
His wasn't.
But I recognized him immediately.
His navy wedding rehearsal suit was visible beneath his black coat.
My fingers tightened around his.
"Marcus," I whispered.
He didn't answer.
The second photograph appeared.
This time, the woman's face was visible.
Marcus was kissing her.
Not a friendly kiss. Not an accidental moment captured from the wrong angle.
His hand was against her cheek, and her fingers were tangled in his hair.
The church went silent.
My mother, Patricia, covered her mouth.
Someone in the third pew whispered, "Oh, my God.""
Marcus finally released my hand.
"Nia," he said, his voice barely audible.
"I can explain.""
I looked at him.
"Explain what?""
He swallowed.
"These pictures don't tell the whole story.""
I glanced at the screen.
"Then perhaps you should tell the whole story before the next photograph appears.""
A few guests shifted uncomfortably.
My maid of honor, Brielle, hurried toward me.
"Baby, come sit down," she whispered, reaching for my elbow.
I pulled away.
"No. I want to know.""
Marcus's mother, Evelyn, stood up.
"Whoever is responsible for this disgusting stunt needs to stop immediately!""
She looked around the church, pointing toward the guests.
"This is a private family ceremony!""
I almost laughed.
Apparently, cheating was private, but exposing it was offensive.
The third photograph appeared.
Marcus and the woman were sitting in an expensive restaurant. A bottle of champagne stood between them. She was smiling at him while he held her hand across the table.
Beneath the image was a timestamp.
*THREE DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING.*
My stomach dropped.
"Three days ago?"" I asked.
Marcus looked down.
I remembered that evening.
He had told me he was meeting his attorney to finalize some last-minute paperwork.
I had even packed him a sandwich because he said he wouldn't have time for dinner.
"Marcus, you told me you were meeting Daniel.""
"I was handling something.""
"With her?""
He stepped closer.
"Please don't do this here.""
I stared at him.
"You brought another woman into our marriage before it even started. Don't tell me where I can ask questions.""
Then the enormous church doors opened.
The woman in the red dress appeared.
She wasn't wearing red anymore.
She had a black coat over a simple dress, her dark hair pulled into a loose bun. She looked pale, exhausted, and frightened.
Every head turned toward her.
Marcus's face changed.
"Vanessa?""
The woman stopped several feet from the altar.
"I didn't send those pictures," she said.
Marcus shook his head.
"Then why are you here?""
Vanessa looked at me.
"Because someone is using my name to tell you only half the truth.""
My heart began pounding.
"What does that mean?""
She took a breath.
"It means Marcus isn't the only person who lied to you.""
Before anyone could respond, the projection screen changed again.
This time, there was no photograph.
Only a sentence in enormous white letters.
*ASK THE GROOM WHAT HE PROMISED HER.*
Marcus stared at it.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
"Don't," he warned.
It was the first time I had ever heard him speak to a woman like that.
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"You promised me she would never find out.""
My mother gripped the back of the nearest pew.
I turned toward Marcus.
"What did you promise her?""
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Then Vanessa reached into her handbag and removed a small white envelope.
"I think you should read this before you marry him.""
I took it.
My name was written across the front.
Not in Vanessa's handwriting.
Not in Marcus's.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
It belonged to my father.
May you like
My father had been dead for six years.
And whatever was inside that envelope had apparently been waiting for me all along.
