Kimberly stared blankly at the message.
When she married Richard, they'd kept it simple: just a table at a hotel with a few relatives and friends.
She'd suggested it, not wanting him to spend his last savings on a wedding while in debt. But on that day, he had still given her the wedding dress of her dreams. She'd been overjoyed yet sad.
The dress maxed out his credit card; his suit was a cheap thrift-store fare. Even so, he'd hugged her, tears in his eyes. "I can't give you the best right now. But when I make it big, I'll throw you the grandest wedding ever."
Yet once he succeeded, he gave that wedding to Lotta instead.
Kimberly shut her eyes and typed: [Bigamy is illegal.]
Before she could send it, Lotta replied: [Yay, he agreed! Kimberly, for all the years you've served him, I'll let you attend our wedding. Honestly, not making him kick you out of the house already is me being generous.]
The words stabbed like knives. Still, Kimberly wanted to see Richard's perfect wedding for herself.
On that day, she disguised herself in a work shirt, wig, and mask, sneaking in as a server.
Richard had booked the city's most expensive hotel, spending a million on decorations alone. Even the wine was air-shipped Romanée-Conti.
The lights dimmed, and Lotta walked the aisle in a diamond-encrusted gown, drawing gasps of admiration.
Richard, in custom tailoring, extended his hand with deep affection. They looked so perfect together, their vows so heartfelt.
Kimberly realized then that he never saw her as his true bride, so that promised wedding never materialized.
What Lotta achieved with a single request, Kimberly couldn't get in a lifetime.
He slipped a ten-carat diamond ring onto Lotta's finger, his voice tender. "I take you, Lotta Anderson, for better or worse."
The diamond sparkled under the lights as he declared, "From this moment, you're my wife, Lotta. I'll love you forever."
Lotta teared up, and they embraced in a sweet kiss.
The crowd cheered as the atmosphere peaked. But Kimberly's hand shook, knocking a wine bottle off her tray. The noise attracted all the attention to her.
Holding Lotta's hand, Richard strode over with a sullen expression. "What the hell are you doing? Do you know how expensive that bottle is?"
Kimberly croaked numbly, "Sorry."
She bent down to clean it, ignoring the glass slicing her fingers.
Lotta recognized her immediately. In fact, she'd arranged for the hotel to let Kimberly in. "They say breaking glass at a wedding brings good luck, but she shattered it during our kiss. Does she think we don't deserve happiness?"
Richard's expression turned stormy. He stomped on Kimberly's hand.
She yelped as shards pierced her skin, blood flowing, but the man was relentless. "Apologize to my wife."
Kimberly stayed silent, her body trembling.
"Forget it, Richard. She didn't mean it," Lotta said, feigning kindness. "Go easy; she's just a server scraping by. Maybe she's jealous of me."
Richard pulled her close. "You're too kind. Don't let people take advantage of you."
Then he glared at Kimberly, full of disgust. "Causing this mess on my wedding day? That's disrespect to my wife and me! Whatever your issue, know this: my wife has things you'll never touch in your lifetime. The hotel owner is my friend. If you don't apologize, every staff member here gets docked pay today!"
The other servers panicked.
"You heard the man. Do it!"
"That wine's over $100,000, and you smashed it on purpose!"
"Mr. Munoz, please continue the wedding. We'll handle her."
Kimberly's heart stung. Before she could ask if he'd truly abandon her for Lotta, the servers forced her head down, making her lick the spilled wine.
"Mr. Munoz, is this good enough?"
Richard cradled Lotta. "Toss her out. Don't let her scare my wife."
If Lotta was his wife, then what was she? As they dragged her out, her mask slipped off as she brushed past Richard. He didn't recognize her.
Outside, the sun shone warmly, but she felt frozen. Staring at the closed banquet doors, she murmured, "Thanks, Richard. Now I can finally move on."
She trudged home to get her packed bags. But in the underground garage, someone clamped a cloth over her nose.
