Love After the Betrayal

The scent of lilies and hairspray usually meant joy, but for me, Abigail Turner, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, it was a suffocating prelude to disaster.

I stood in my bridal gown, gazing into an ornate mirror, my heart a storm.

Then Brandon Hayes, my fiancé, walked in, his eyes cold and distant.

He took his mother' s diamond necklace, an heirloom he' d given me, straight from my neck.

"I need that back," he said, his voice flat.

Before I could process the shock, my cousin, Seraphina Vance, appeared, clutching an overnight bag, her eyes red-rimmed.

Without a word, Brandon fastened the necklace around her neck.

My future, my life, was now hers.

"I can' t marry you, Abby," Brandon declared, his voice devoid of emotion.

"The wedding is canceled."

Then, he looked at Seraphina, his voice softening. "I' m marrying Seraphina. Today."

Just like that, my own cousin, who should have been my bridesmaid, was taking my place.

"Why?" I managed to choke out.

Brandon sighed, as if burdened by immense self-pity. "It' s for the good of the family. There' s a curse, Abby. A psychic told Seraphina' s mother. If I don' t marry her, something terrible will happen."

Seraphina sniffled, burying her face in his chest. "I' m so sorry, Abby. I didn' t want this."

He held her tight, then looked back at me, his eyes filled with a bizarre pity. "It' s just for a few years, Abby. Once the danger from the curse has passed, I' ll divorce her. Just wait for me. You' ll always be the one I love."

The absurdity of his words was staggering. He wanted me to wait.

My family rushed in, drawn by the commotion. My mother' s face paled at the scene: me in my dress, Brandon holding Seraphina, the necklace on the wrong neck.

Everyone expected tears, screams, pleas.

But a strange calm washed over me.

The heartbreak was a cold, hard stone in my chest, but my mind was clear.

I looked at Brandon, the man I thought I would spend my life with, and saw a stranger-a weak, arrogant man easily manipulated by my jealous cousin.

I turned to my father, my voice steady and firm. "Dad, do you remember the arrangement with the Beaumont family in Europe?"

His eyes widened in shock. "Abby, you don' t mean…"

"I do," I said. "Call them. Tell them I accept."

Silence fell over the room.

My life as Abigail "Abby" Turner ended in that moment.

The next day, I was on a plane to Europe.

Five years later, the world knows me as Ava Beaumont.

I am a respected art curator, happily married, and six months pregnant.

I am back in the United States for the first time in five years, for my husband William' s grandfather' s ninetieth birthday.

And I am a completely different woman.