Chapter 1: The Bride Who Wasn't Me
"Isn't this dress perfect, babe? I can't wait to marry you in it!""
I heard my little sister say those words before I even saw her face.
My cousin Rachel had sent me a video with a single message: Emily, please tell me this isn't what I think it is.
I pressed play.
And my world stopped.
There was Brianna, standing beneath the crystal chandeliers of Nashville's most expensive bridal salon, wearing the wedding dress I'd spent four hundred hours creating.
She turned toward the mirror, lifted the skirt, and laughed.
Behind her stood Daniel Whitmore, my fiancé of six years, holding two champagne glasses.
He raised one toward her.
"To the future Mrs. Whitmore," he said.
Brianna giggled.
I watched the video twice.
Then a third time.
I recognized every detail of that dress. The ivory silk. The delicate floral embroidery cascading down the bodice. The tiny pearls I'd sewn individually into the neckline.
And the lace.
The lace came from my mother's wedding dress, which she'd left me before she died.
I'd spent four hundred hours making something that represented love, family, and the future I'd dreamed of.
My sister was wearing it.
My fiancé was celebrating.
And neither of them seemed particularly concerned about hiding it.
I grabbed my car keys.
Twenty minutes later, I walked into Bellamy Bridal.
The receptionist looked up.
"Good afternoon! Do you have an appointment?""
"I'm Emily Carter. I believe someone is trying on my wedding dress.""
Her smile disappeared.
She glanced toward the fitting area.
"One moment, please.""
I heard Brianna laughing before I saw her.
"Daniel, look at the back! Emily never got the waist quite right, but it's actually perfect on me.""
Daniel chuckled.
"Well, I always said you had the better figure.""
I stopped walking.
For six years, I'd believed that man loved me.
I'd supported him through two job changes, helped him pay off his student loans, and stood beside him when his father died.
Apparently, I'd also spent four hundred hours making a dress for the wrong bride.
I stepped around the corner.
"Then why don't you marry her?""
The champagne glass slipped slightly in Daniel's hand.
Brianna spun around.
Her smile vanished.
"Emily?""
I looked at her reflection in the mirror.
"Take it off.""
She blinked.
"What?""
"My dress. Take it off.""
Daniel put down his champagne.
"Emily, sweetheart, this isn't what it looks like.""
I laughed.
"Really? Because it looks like my sister is wearing my wedding dress while my fiancé is celebrating her appearance.""
Brianna crossed her arms, making the expensive silk pull awkwardly around her waist.
"You're embarrassing yourself.""
"Am I?""
"Yes. I was just trying it on.""
"Then why did you call him babe?""
She rolled her eyes.
"You're seriously going to start a fight over one word?""
I turned toward Daniel.
"Did you tell her she could wear it?""
He stared at the floor.
"Emily, we need to talk privately.""
"Funny. You didn't seem interested in privacy when you were making wedding plans with my sister.""
Brianna's expression hardened.
"Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with controlling everything, people wouldn't have to go behind your back.""
I stared at her.
She had always been like this.
When we were children, she borrowed my clothes and returned them stained. When we were teenagers, she flirted with boys I liked and called me insecure when I complained.
Our mother always told me to be the bigger sister.
"She's younger, Emily. You have to understand.""
Even after Mom died, I kept trying.
I paid Brianna's overdue rent twice. I helped her find work. I even invited her to be my maid of honor.
And now she was standing in my wedding dress.
Daniel finally approached me.
"Please. Let's not do this here.""
I stepped away.
"Where would you prefer? At our wedding?""
His face changed.
Brianna looked at him.
That was when I noticed something strange.
Neither of them looked surprised that I'd mentioned the wedding.
They looked annoyed that I'd discovered something.
A woman in a navy-blue suit approached us.
"I'm Victoria Bellamy, the salon manager. Miss Carter, could I speak with you at the counter?""
She glanced at Brianna's dress.
Then at Daniel.
Her expression was unusually serious.
I followed her.
At the counter, she opened a thick folder.
"There's been a problem with your gown's alteration authorization.""
She showed me a document.
My dress measurements had been changed.
The original waist measurement was mine.
The new measurements belonged to Brianna.
Then she placed an invoice beside it.
$14,800.
Wedding package.
Bride: Brianna Carter.
Groom: Daniel Whitmore.
I felt my fingertips go numb.
"Why is there a wedding package?""
Victoria hesitated.
"Because your fiancé booked a complete wedding service through our partner venue.""
I looked at Daniel.
He was standing several feet away, whispering urgently to Brianna.
"What date?""
Victoria turned the page.
My stomach dropped.
It was the same date as my wedding.
The same venue.
The same flowers.
Even the same guest count.
Brianna approached the counter, still wearing my dress.
"Well, Emily, I suppose somebody had to tell you eventually.""
I couldn't speak.
Victoria quietly placed another paper in front of me.
"There's one more issue. The payment was authorized from your wedding savings account.""
I looked down.
And then she pointed to the signature.
May you like
"Miss Carter, this wasn't approved by Mr. Whitmore.""
It was my mother's name.
