There are many expensive houses here in Abelcombe Hill, an enclave on the edge of Wittingham, in the Bidson Valley. Situated on the east side of the Bidson River, about a hundred miles north of New York City. There’s old money here, and new.
Down the long private drive, past a clump of birches, there it sits: the Warren home, on its vast expanse of lawn, presented like a cake on a platter. A glimpse of a swimming pool to the left. Behind is a ravine, and thick trees on either side of the property guarantee privacy. This is prime real estate. I know this place, because this was where I lived.
It’s so still and undisturbed. A weak sun is out, interrupted by scudding clouds. It’s twelve o’clock in the afternoon on Sunday. The place looks occupied. There are cars parked along the road and in the driveway.
With Miriam's connection, she was able to find out the venue of Jeremy and Kyra's wedding. It is happening on the vast expanse of their lawn behind their home. Only friends and family are invited, that's why the wedding is low key.
"Ma'am, we've arrived." My driver says softly, slowing the car to a stop.
"You can stop me here." I respond, carrying my white pulse beside me in the backseat of the Lexus car with white leather interior.
"Whenever you want me to come pick you, please don't hesitate to call or drop me a message." The driver continues.
"Sure. Thank you." I smile, trying to obscure the nervousness on my face.
I open the door and come out, closing it behind me gently. I adjust my white long gown adored with round diamonds around the chest area. I see two women exit their car and glance at her as they make their way through the guards situated at the entrance of the Warren home.
I know no other woman except the bride is supposed to wear white. I don't care about that, considering her husband and best friend's betrayal. I approach the guards at the entrance. A guard raises his hand mid air, stopping me.
"Your invitation." The guard asks.
I open my purse and take out my phone. I show the guard my invitation card. The guard inspects it closely.
"You're welcome, Miss Jane." The guard responds.
I smile a forced smile, "Thank you."
My heels click against the cobblestone path. My former home looms before me. I keep my head high, confident in my new face to shield me. Passing through the grand archway, I emerged in the backyard. Rows of white chairs lined up to the altar draped in floral arrangements.
My breath catches. There he is. The love of my life. The man I gave my body and soul to, Jeremy. He stands at the altar. His tailored black suit fits him. He glances at me, his blue eyes barely maintaining a gaze on me before looking somewhere else. His black hair was gelled and combed backwards, highlighting his sharp jaw line.
I quickly scan the gathered crowd. About twenty guests, all dressed impeccably, chatting in low voices. I slid into an empty chair at the back, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
I stared at Jeremy's face in particular. His jaw is tightened in a familiar way she'd learned to read in their years married together. He was nervous. I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him, wondering what could be making him anxious. Then the music cues in. A soft melody plays. The guests look behind them, I do so and there she is. My best friend.
She grins radiantly in her pearl white wedding dress. Her eyes are locked on Jeremy. I feel my stomach twist painfully. All the shared secrets and promises Jeremy and I whispered, gone just like that. Now to be replaced by Kyra. I grip the sides of my chair watching my best friend and my former husband, now at the altar, together.
My chest tightens as Kyra reaches out Jeremy, slipping her hands into his. The music reduces in tempo. The priest clears his throat before he begins, "We are gathered here today to join Jeremy Warren and Kyra Stone in holy matrimony."
I could barely concentrate on the priest's word and turn my gaze to the front seats and see my former mother in law, Beatrice.
I adjust myself on the seat, scooting a bit front to have a clearer view of Beatrice. She is seated stiffly in her chair with her hands clasped in her lap. Her lips are pressed into a thin line. Her eyes held no sign of happiness for the couple in her front.
"Now, if the bride and groom will please hold hands." The priest says.
During my wedding, Beatrice's eyes showed joy and kindness. She pecked me on my cheeks after the vows. She even dapped the tears streaking down her eyes when the priest began reciting the vows. I am seeing none of that today. That only means one thing. Beatrice disapproves of Jeremy and Kyra's wedding.
I watch Jeremy take Kyra's hands with no smile on his lips. Kyra's grin widens. I draw a deep shaky breath as Jeremy recites his vow after the priest, trying to calm myself. The priest reaches the end of the vows and faces the guests.
"If anyone has just cause why this man and this woman should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." The priest asks.
Silence falls over the crowd. My hands tremble in my lap. My heart pounds, because this is the opportunity I have been waiting. The first stage in her plans for revenge. I open my mouth to speak, but Beatrice rises on her feet.
"I object." Beatrice states firmly. Her voice sounding loudly.
Gasps erupts through the guests, heads turning to face Beatrice. Even Jeremy and Kyra look shocked.
"I won't let you marry Kyra. I refuse to believe that Nelly is dead." Beatrice says, her voice shaky.
I feel cold shivers run down my spine.
