She acted quickly.
Before I could fully process the storm raging inside my chest, my mum was already on the phone, her voice calm but firm as she spoke to the makeup artist. The words were clipped, precise, commanding. When she arrived, she worked swiftly, her hands steady as she dabbed away the evidence of my tears, reapplying concealer, adjusting my eyeliner, fixing what shock had almost ruined. She handed me a small glass of something warm, not strong enough to cloud my senses, just enough to steady my shaking hands.
"Breathe," she said softly, placing a hand over mine. "You cannot fall apart now."
I nodded, but my mind felt like it was on fire.
What should I do?
Do I tell him? Do I warn his mother when she arrives? Or do I swallow it, lock it somewhere deep inside, and pretend I never saw a thing?
I cannot afford to ruin this wedding.
This is the wedding of my dreams. Every late night, every quiet compromise, every sleepless hour led me here. I cannot lose the most coveted bachelor in Hiddenville now, not when he is a man of influence, a global icon, a name that opens doors and bends wills.
And yet…
Austin has hurt me.
Despite all his promises, despite his whispered reassurances in the night, the images I had seen on his phone replayed relentlessly in my mind. They were sharp and unforgiving, cutting into my chest, and I felt the walls of my carefully built control start to crumble.
I tried to steady my breathing. The soft music my mum had put on was meant to calm me, but my heart thumped louder than the piano notes floating in the air.
"I need air," I said suddenly, my voice a whisper but laced with urgency.
I stepped into the garden. The breeze brushed my cheeks and tugged at the layers of my gown. I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling, trying to find composure. The flowers smelled faintly of roses and lilies, and yet the fragrance couldn't mask the tension crawling through my veins.
Then I saw her.
She was stepping out of a black limousine, slow, graceful, and deliberate. Her heels clicked against the polished stone. Every movement was precise, every gesture intentional. My pulse jumped.
It was her.
The woman from the photos.
The one who didn't belong here.
She looked confident. Too confident. The kind of confidence that made the air around her crackle with authority. Her hair flowed like liquid, catching every stray beam of sunlight. Her gold gown clung to her in all the right ways, accentuating curves that were perfectly honed, polished, and deliberate. Her skin shimmered faintly, reflecting the garden's light, well cared for, expensive, untouchable.
She looked like someone who always got what she wanted.
And now, she wants my wedding.
My stomach twisted. Austin's mother should be arriving any minute; I cannot allow her to ruin my day, my moment. My hands trembled as I gripped my phone.
"Mum," I whispered, voice tight, "she's here. The woman I told you about. I've seen her."
That was all it took.
My mum's calmness became a weapon. She swung into action, giving quiet but firm instructions to the security team. I watched them move toward the woman, polite but resolute, guiding her toward my room. My heart pounded so hard I was sure they could hear it.
Seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes to fix this.
Seventeen minutes to protect everything I had worked for.
I hurried toward my room, feet barely touching the floor, my gown brushing along silently. When I arrived, she was already there.
Up close, she was beautiful. Striking. Even in the tension of the moment, she radiated confidence. Her voice, even as she spoke to the security, was steady and polite. She did not panic. She did not falter.
Then she saw me and immediately smiled, almost like she knew me.
And I knew she knew.
Her lips curved in recognition, a tentative smile that tried to reclaim composure. I felt a shiver. This was dangerous.
Before she could speak, my mum acted.
"Step aside," she ordered, and the security immediately complied. My mum locked the door behind them, sealing us inside.
The woman's smile faded, replaced with sharp confusion.
"My name is Mrs. Rinnah Rockwood," she said carefully, trying to assert herself. "May I know what is happening?"
The room spun around me.
Did she just say Rinnah Rockwood?
And Mrs?
The nerve. How dare she claim my mother-in-law's name?
I studied her closely, searching for any sign of relation to Austin. None. She seemed too young. Too polished. Not a trace of the woman who could have birthed my future husband. She was a shadow, a dangerous, beautiful imitation of power.
My thoughts were shattered by a sharp slap.
Her head snapped sideways. She stared at my mum in disbelief. Her hand rose slowly to her cheek. She opened her mouth to speak, but my mum raised her hand again.
I rushed forward, grabbing my mum's wrist.
"Enough," I hissed, urgency lacing my voice.
I turned to the woman, voice controlled but icy.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Yes," she said, voice wavering slightly.
"So you knew he was about to be married," my mum cut in, fury blazing in her eyes, "and you dared to show your face? For how long have you been with Austin?"
The woman froze.
No words came.
Her breathing became uneven. The elegance she walked in with was gone, replaced by a bit of vulnerability.
"What exactly did you hope to achieve by coming here?" I asked, voice cold. "You're nothing more than a mistress. And you will remain one. If you were good enough, Austin would have married you instead."
She straightened, regaining some composure, and met my mum's gaze.
"My name is Rinnah Rockwood," she repeated, carefully.
I scoffed. Ugh. The audacity.
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
"Who is there?" my mum demanded.
"It's Austin," came the reply.
At the sound of his name, the woman gasped. Relief flashed across her face. She almost screamed. My mum acted instantly, covering her mouth with her scarf, muffling her voice.
"Give me a minute," she said calmly. "You shouldn't see the bride before the wedding anyway. It brings ill luck."
In tense silence, we bound her hands, tied her legs, and secured her mouth. Every movement felt painstakingly slow, each second dragging as if the universe itself was watching. We pushed her into the walk-in closet behind the dressing corner, away from any prying eyes. The door shut with a solid click, sealing away the chaos.
I leaned against the wall, heart hammering, breath uneven.
We returned to the entrance just as Austin appeared. My mother smoothed her scarf, straightened her posture, and smiled as if nothing had happened.
But I could feel it, everything had changed.
The world I had controlled, the plan I had meticulously built, was suddenly precarious.
And I was still standing. This day is not going as planned, I thought to myself.