My Sister Stole My Wedding, So I Took Her Husband's Company novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Locked Room
Her mother pins Hazel's veil on her sister and locks her in; she breaks out, watches the wedding go on, and walks out to a stranger holding the door.
One hour before my wedding, my mother took the veil off my head and pinned it into my sister's hair.
I was sitting on the velvet bench in the chapel's side room.
The dress I wore was one I had paid for myself.
Ten minutes earlier, Brooke had zipped me into it.
She had cried a little and called me the best big sister alive.
Her hair was already full of pearl pins, the same ones as my veil comb.
That morning I had thought it was sweet that she matched me.
Now she stood still while Mom set the comb, and she didn't look at me.
"What are you doing?" I said.
"Fixing things," Mom said.
Dad stood by the door with his hands in his pockets.
A gold watch showed at his cuff, one I had never seen him wear.
"Preston gave it to me last week," he said when he saw me look. "A wedding present."
"Mom, give me the veil back."
"Preston has agreed, Hazel. It's settled."
"Agreed to what?"
"To marry the daughter who will make him a good wife," Mom said.
"You've been digging into things that aren't your business. Brooke won't."
I stood up, and the skirt caught on my heel.
"Dad," I said.
He looked at the carpet.
"It's one afternoon," he said. "Let your sister have the day. We'll sort out the rest after."
I went for the door and he stepped in front of it.
He is not a big man, but I had never pushed him and I couldn't make myself do it then.
Mom smoothed Brooke's veil one last time.
Brooke finally turned around.
"I'm sorry, Haze," she said. "It'll be easier if you don't make a scene."
Then the three of them walked out, and I heard the key turn in the lock.
I stood there in my dress and listened to their shoes go down the hall.
My tote was still under the bench.
Nobody had thought to take it, because nobody thought I would need it.
I got out my phone and found Preston's last text, from 2:38.
Whatever happens today, I love you. Trust me.
I called him, and it rang and rang and went to voicemail.
I texted: My parents locked me in the side room. Come get me.
Three dots came up and went away.
Then an email from the Lyle Group IT desk arrived, time-stamped 2:41.
Your access to company systems ended today at 2:41 p.m. Please return your badge.
I had been Preston's finance director for four years.
He had cut me off from his company three minutes after telling me to trust him.
Under the phone in the tote was the folder his lawyer had sent on Thursday.
One page in it was marked for my signature, a consent for the board.
I had told the lawyer I would sign it Monday, and it was still blank.
Out in the chapel, the organ started.
The side window had a brass latch that someone had painted over.
I broke the paint with the heel of my shoe and pushed the sash up.
I dropped into the flower bed in my wedding dress and walked around the stone wall to the front.
The chapel doors were propped open for the guests.
I stood at the back, where nobody had turned around yet, and looked down the aisle.
Two hundred people were on their feet.
My father was walking my sister toward the altar, and she wore my veil.
Preston stood at the front in the tuxedo I had picked out with him.
He watched her come, and he didn't look surprised.
I called him again from the doorway.
His pocket lit up, and he took the phone out and read my name on the screen.
He turned it face down and put it back.
Then he looked past Brooke, down the whole length of the chapel, and saw me.
He held my eyes for a moment.
Then he gave the minister a small nod to go on.
Nobody else had seen me, and my grandmother Winifred, the only one on my side, had stayed out in the parking lot.
I could march down that aisle and ruin it in front of them all.
Mom would call me hysterical by dessert.
So I walked out.
A man in the last pew stood up as I reached the door.
He was tall, in a gray suit, and I had never seen him in my life.
He pushed the heavy door open and held it for me without a word.
"Thank you," I said, and my voice shook.
"Don't thank me yet," he said. "My name is Maxwell Brodie. I own a quarter of your fiancé's company."
He looked at my left hand, and then at my face.
"And I think you're the only person here who has read his books."
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