The Bride Saw Red Threads of Desire, Then Fled the Wedding Chapter 07

The Bride Saw Red Threads of Desire, Then Fled the Wedding Chapter 07

Graham’s aunt turned on her husband, grabbing his arm.

“Wasn’t she your classmate?”

“It was one time. I was drunk.”

The words were out before he could stop them. His hand flew to his mouth.

Graham’s cousin and her husband stormed the altar and tried to pull me off.

I turned and pointed at a man at the third table.

“You might want to get a paternity test. Your kid doesn’t look a thing like you. Take a good look at your wife’s

best friend’s husband and tell me I’m wrong.”

Graham’s cousin’s husband spun around and grabbed his wife.

“Is that true?”

I turned to Camille.

“That guy by the door on the right is your ex. You never actually ended it with him, did you? Not even after you started things with Graham.”

Camille’s ex slow–clapped from the doorway. “Well, this is fun.”

“Camille told me Graham was her personal ATM and you, Tessa, were just the idiot paying off the condo. Once you married him, she figured she’d have access to his money for good.”

Graham’s head snapped toward Camille.

“Did you say that?”

“He’s lying! He’s been obsessed with me since the breakup!”

“You told me you didn’t want anything from me. That you fell for me and couldn’t help yourself. Was that a lie

too?”

Camille clutched his sleeve.

“I’ve loved you for years, and you’re going to take his word over mine?”

Graham didn’t push her away.

He just turned and looked at me. For the first time, I saw real fear in his face.

“Tessa, you can actually see them?”

“You always knew how I felt about cheating.”

“I thought that was just baggage from your parents‘ divorce.”

“So you figured I’d never be able to prove it.”

Graham’s jaw tightened.

A few guests were still muttering about supernatural nonsense. Most had already ducked out with their

spouses, eyes on the floor.

The emcee had backed himself against the AV booth. His mic hung dead at his waist. He’d stopped trying.

Graham’s mother scanned the half–empty tables, pulled her shoulders back, and raised her voice.

“So my son slipped up once. He’s willing to do better. What kind of woman blows up her own wedding over a

single mistake?”

I looked her dead in the eye. “This one.”

“If Tessa says she’s done, she’s done!”

The voice came from the back of the ballroom. Audrey shoved one of the double doors open. Behind her

stood Lila Mercer, Phoebe Langford, and Willa Prescott.

Their faces told different stories, but every one of them stood behind Audrey, and not one of them flinched.

Audrey stepped aside. Two uniformed officers stood in the doorway behind them.

It clicked.

That morning, when Audrey found out I was going to the venue, she’d sent me a text.

Four words. [I will handle it.]

I’d assumed she meant the hotel bill.

She’d done so much more.

Three seconds of silence.

Graham’s uncle shrank back into his seat. Every ounce of bravado vanished.

Audrey caught my eye.

I held her look for a second, then turned to the officers.

“Officers, thank you for coming. I’d like to make a statement in front of witnesses.”

“My name is Tessa Whitmore. I’m the bride. Last night, I informed the groom that the wedding was off.”

“The reason was that my fiancé Graham slept with my bridesmaid Camille the night before our wedding. I have timestamped surveillance footage from the living room. Unedited.”

“This morning, the groom’s family ignored my cancellation. They went ahead with the setup, barricaded the hallway outside my suite, and pressured me until I showed up.”

“They’ve also demanded I repay twice their fifty–thousand–dollar contribution, plus cover all reception and planning costs.”

“I want all of that on record.”

The senior officer looked over the wreckage (the altar, the scattered guests) and opened his notebook.

“Canceling a wedding is the bride’s right. The law protects everyone’s freedom to choose whether or not to marry. Nobody can force someone into it.” He paused and looked at Graham’s mother. “As for the financial dispute (contributions, expenses), that’s a civil matter. If the parties can’t agree, take it to court. But I’ll say this clearly: holding her against her will, blocking her movement, restricting her freedom? That changes the nature of this from a family argument to a criminal offense.”

He closed the notebook.

“Everyone directly involved, as well as any family members connected to what happened this morning, is

coming with us to give statements.”

What was left of the color in Graham’s face disappeared.

He didn’t look at his mother. Didn’t look at Camille. Didn’t even glance at the officers. Just me.

“Tessa.” His voice was barely there. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“You did this. Not me.”

“My mom went too far. I know that. She panicked.”

I cut him off.

“You’re apologizing for her. Who’s apologizing for what you did?”