The Bride Saw Red Threads of Desire, Then Fled the Wedding Chapter 04

The Bride Saw Red Threads of Desire, Then Fled the Wedding Chapter 04

It was eleven at night. My mother finished watching the footage, and her hands were still shaking.

“Tessa, the camera didn’t catch them going into the bedroom.”

“But I saw the tether, Mom. Tonight. It was right there between them.”

Her head snapped up.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I was ten when I first asked her about it, why the guy from the first floor and the woman in 3B had a scarlet tether strung between them. I asked her if they’d slept together.

She slapped me. She thought I’d learned something filthy from other kids.

Six months later, both families ended up in court over the affair. That was when my mother finally believed what I could see.

After that, she made me promise to never tell anyone. Keep it to myself. Stay out of other people’s business.

She understood better than anyone why I’d put off marriage for so long.

My mother closed her eyes.

“The night before your wedding.”

“It didn’t start last night, Mom. They’ve been emotionally involved for a year, maybe two. Last night is just when the tether showed up.”

She was quiet for a long time. Then she pulled out the guest list.

“I’ll call our side tonight. Every single one. Graham can deal with his own family.” She looked at me. “You’re not making my mistake, Tessa. I’m with you.”

I called Graham.

He let it ring seven times, then sent it to voicemail.

Five minutes later, he texted.

[You at the hotel?]

[Get some sleep, babe. Big day tomorrow.]

I read his words and felt nothing but disgust.

I typed back: [Where are you?]

The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Two minutes later, he sent a photo of the guest bedroom in the condo.

[Got the relatives sorted. Hotel was full so I’m crashing at the new place tonight.]

His lie was flawless.

Without the tether and the camera, I would have believed him. I probably would have felt bad for him, running around all day, handling everything.

I sent him a screenshot from the surveillance feed.

Camille’s dress, draped across the sofa.

Then one last message.

[It’s over. Cancel the wedding tomorrow. Let both families walk away with whatever dignity is left.]

He didn’t reply.

Sixty seconds later, the man in the bedroom came tearing out and stared straight into the camera.

Camille stumbled out behind him, wrapped in my robe.

The audio crackled through my phone. “What do we do? She saw us?”

Graham reached up and ripped the camera out.

The last thing I heard before the screen went black was his voice, perfectly steady. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

By dawn, I understood what “handle it” meant. He was going to force the wedding.

He posted in the wedding party group chat that I’d spiked a fever and the bridal prep was off.

Then his mother showed up at the hotel with a dozen relatives and planted herself in front of my suite.

“Tessa, you get out here right now.”

“You can’t just back out the morning of. That’s not how this works.”

“Tessa, if you don’t open this door, I will tell every single guest at that venue that you had a mental breakdown. Good luck explaining that to your colleagues.”

On the other side of the door, Graham didn’t say a word to stop her.

When he finally spoke, it was only to me.

“Tessa, put on the dress. Let’s just get through the ceremony. After today, you can do whatever you want to me. But we’re getting through this first.”