PART5

“You have a wedding dress, Rachel. Put it on. Put the wig on. Smile for the photographs. We can discuss your little attitude later.”

“My little attitude?”

“Yes. You have been impossible about the inheritance, and I am tired of it. Today is supposed to be about us, not your obsession with money.”

I looked at Margaret.

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Carter,” I asked softly, “why did you shave my head?”

There was silence.

Then he laughed.

“Oh, come on. Don’t start that again.”

“You left a note.”

“You needed a wake-up call.”

“While I was unconscious?”

“You were asleep.”

“Why was I asleep so deeply that I couldn’t wake up?”

His voice changed.

“Rachel, you’re being dramatic.”

“Did you put something in my champagne?”

“Are you accusing me of drugging you?”

“I’m asking you a question.”

He exhaled sharply.

“I gave you a little something to help you relax. You were stressing about the wedding all week. I didn’t want you waking up at five in the morning and starting another argument.”

My stomach tightened.

“You gave me something without telling me?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“And you shaved my head?”

“You kept refusing to listen. I thought if you saw how ridiculous you looked, you’d finally stop acting like you were better than everyone.”

I stared at the phone.

There it was.

Not an apology.

Not even a denial.

A confession, delivered with the casual irritation of a man explaining why he’d returned the wrong groceries.

“Did your mother know?” I asked.

“Why does that matter?”

“Did she know?”

He was silent for a moment.

“Mom knows you can be difficult. She agrees you needed to be humbled.”

I felt a strange calm settle over me.

“Thank you, Carter.”

He laughed again.

“For what?”

“For answering my questions.”

“Whatever. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes. And Rachel?”

“Yes?”

“If you embarrass me today, I promise you’ll regret it.”

The call ended.

Margaret immediately wrote down the time and summarized what she had heard. She explained that we should preserve the recording and seek appropriate legal advice about its use.

I saved the message thread and set the phone aside.

Then I looked at the wedding dress.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Margaret frowned.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You understand that once you walk into that ballroom, people will stare.”

“I know.”

“Some will gossip. Some will take photographs. Some may try to provoke you.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

I picked up the dress.

“Because Carter thinks the worst thing that can happen to me is that people see my shaved head.”

I looked at my reflection one last time.

“He has no idea how little that matters anymore.”

The Grand Bellmont’s garden ballroom was magnificent.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. White roses covered the tables. A string quartet played near the entrance, and the aisle was lined with candles in tall glass holders.

Two hundred guests filled the room.

At the front stood Carter, wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. His dark hair was carefully styled, and a white rose rested in his lapel.

He looked every inch the successful groom.

Beside him stood his mother, Diane, wearing a champagne-colored gown and a diamond necklace that caught the light whenever she moved.

Vanessa sat in the front row, whispering to a woman in a blue dress.

When the music changed, everyone turned toward the entrance.

I stepped into the doorway.

For a heartbeat, the entire room went silent.

I wore my wedding dress, my grandfather’s gold compass pendant, and no wig.

My shaved head was completely visible.

A murmur swept through the guests.

Someone gasped.

A woman near the back covered her mouth.

Two people immediately raised their phones.

Carter’s smile vanished.

Diane’s face turned crimson.

Vanessa stared at me as if I’d walked into the room carrying a live grenade.

Then Carter hurried toward the entrance, his jaw clenched.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

I smiled pleasantly.

“Walking down the aisle.”

“Where’s the wig?”

“I decided I liked myself better without it.”

“Rachel, stop this right now.”

He grabbed my arm.

I looked down at his hand.

“Let go.”

His fingers tightened.

“Don’t make me look like an idiot in front of everyone.”

I lifted my eyes to his.

“You managed that without my help.”

His face twisted.

For a second, I thought he might shout.

Instead, he released my arm and forced a smile toward the guests.

“She’s nervous,” he announced. “Bride’s nerves, you know.”

A few people laughed awkwardly.

Diane stepped forward.

“Rachel, darling,” she said through clenched teeth, “perhaps we should take a moment privately. We can fix your hair before the ceremony.”

“My hair is fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not the one who shaved it.”

Her smile disappeared.

Several guests gasped again.

Carter moved between us.

“Rachel, enough.”

I looked at him.

“Are you asking me to stop telling the truth?”

“I’m asking you not to ruin our wedding.”

I glanced around the ballroom.

The flowers were beautiful. The music was lovely. The guests had come dressed to celebrate a marriage.

But the man standing in front of me had drugged me, shaved my head, and threatened me when I refused to hide the evidence.

I had nothing left to protect by pretending.

“Then perhaps,” I said calmly, “we should talk about the wedding.”

Carter leaned closer.

“You are going to marry me today. We have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on this event. My business partners are here. My investors are here. My family is here. You will not destroy everything because you’re having some emotional episode.”

I looked past him toward the front row.

Several men in expensive suits sat together near the aisle.

One of them was Daniel Price.

He gave me a small nod.

Beside him sat Margaret, holding her leather briefcase.

I turned back to Carter.

“Don’t worry. I have a gift for you.”

His expression changed instantly.

He glanced toward the briefcase.

“The transfer documents?”

“Yes.”

His shoulders relaxed.

For the first time since I’d entered the room, he smiled.

“There you go,” he whispered. “That’s the Rachel I know.”

He reached for my hand.

I let him take it.

Then I leaned closer and whispered, “You should have treated her better.”

His smile faltered.

“What?”

Before he could ask again, the wedding coordinator approached with a nervous expression.

“Everyone is ready,” she said. “Shall we begin?”

Carter straightened his jacket.

“Yes,” he replied. “Let’s get this over with.”

I looked at the altar.

Then at the two hundred people who had come to witness the beginning of our marriage.

“Actually,” I said, “before we begin, I have something I’d like everyone to hear.”

The coordinator froze.

Carter’s fingers tightened around mine.

“Rachel,” he whispered, “don’t you dare.”

I turned toward the microphone.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART6…