On what should have been the most joyful day of Lincoln’s life, an unexpected twist turns his world upside down. His fiancée’s ex-husband crashes the wedding, revealing a devastating truth that no one anticipated.

Surrounded by betrayal, heartbreak, and many unanswered questions, Lincoln must navigate a path forward. Can their love withstand such an ultimate betrayal, or is their relationship built on falsehoods?

I never subscribed to the notion of perfection.

But as I stood at the altar, watching Amelia make her way toward me, I couldn’t help but feel she was the closest thing to it.

Her father accompanied her down the aisle, her arm affectionately looped through his. Her veil framed her delicate face, her dark eyes meeting mine with a mix of love and anticipation.

And as for me?

My heart felt like it might explode with happiness.

Just a year had passed since I first encountered Amelia at work. Initially, she was my subordinate, but soon she became the woman who completely transformed my life.

She was intelligent, ambitious, and effortlessly charming. The kind of person who could illuminate the dullest of days.

“She brings magic to everything,” I had told my sister, Helen. “It’s an exceptional quality, especially when everyone else seems so focused on the world’s miseries.”

“I agree,” Helen had replied, “but remember what Mom always said about people rushing into marriage. Sometimes they’re compensating for something.”

“Oh, Mom’s old sayings are just superstitions,” I’d said, laughing.

Amelia had been married before; I was aware of that. Her ex-husband, John, also worked at the same place. Although their divorce had been contentious, Amelia seldom talked about it, and I never pushed for details.

After all, the past was irrelevant. What mattered was our present and our future together.

Now, she was on the verge of becoming my wife.

I wiped my clammy palms against my suit, my hands trembling with nervous excitement. As Amelia reached me, her father gave me a nod before stepping back.

“Are you alright?” she whispered, lightly squeezing my hands.

“I am,” I replied, a soft chuckle escaping me. “I think I forgot how to breathe when I saw you.”

Then, suddenly, the doors burst open with a loud bang.

An unsettling hush fell over the guests as they turned to see who had interrupted the ceremony.

There, standing at the entrance, was John.

I had only encountered him twice before; a brief introduction at work and another instance where he nearly ignored me entirely.

Today, however, he fixed me with an unwavering gaze, his voice cutting through the room with clarity.

“I sincerely apologize, but you’re going to call off this wedding in about five minutes,” he declared.

The air was suddenly thick with tension, and everyone froze.

Amelia’s grip on my hand tightened, and I felt a growing knot of dread in my stomach.

“What are you trying to accomplish here?” I demanded, stepping forward. “Get out of here!”

But John remained firmly in place, exhaling softly and shaking his head.

“Lincoln, you have the right to know the truth,” he said calmly. “Amelia is pregnant.”

Murmurs broke out among the attendees, my heart pounding in my ears.

Pregnant?

I turned to Amelia, searching her face for an answer. She didn’t show any signs of denial or shock. Her lips parted, her eyes wide.

“Amelia? This is true?” I whispered.

Before I could make sense of it all, John continued, his words slicing through the tension.

“Not just pregnant, Lincoln. She is carrying my child!”

The air was heavy, and I felt as if my world had crumbled.

This couldn’t be happening.

I directed my ire at John, my fists clenching in frustration.

“You’re lying,” I growled. “You’re a mess and you want to take everyone down with you.”

John let out a humorless chuckle.

“Am I?” he shot back, mockingly.

Finally, Amelia spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Lincoln,” she managed, “please, let me explain…”

“Explain what, Amelia?” John’s tone was sharp, almost taunting. “That you’ve been secretly seeing me for the past six months? That we’ve reignited our relationship?”

A collective gasp of disbelief echoed through the room.

I felt paralyzed.

Six months, half of the time I thought we shared.

An icy shiver down my spine.

John shook his head.

“Come on, Lincoln, you think Amelia is marrying you out of love?” John’s jaw tightened. “She’s after your money, Lincoln. The security, the comfortable life. But with me? That’s who she truly wants.”

A wave of nausea swept over me.

I looked back at Amelia, my heart twisting, hoping, pleading for her to say something—anything.

But she just stood there.

Her complexion was ashen, her breathing shallow. Her mouth opened, yet no words emerged.

Then Amelia swayed.

“Amelia,” I gasped, reaching out.

But before I could catch her…

She fell.

Pandemonium ensued.

“Call an ambulance!” someone shouted.

I barely registered the voice. I was already on the floor, cradling her limp body, her skin cold to the touch, her eyes fluttering.

Pregnant. Not my child. Betrayal. Lies. Cheating.

But at this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was Amelia waking up. Her parents had left, instructing me to inform them when she regained consciousness.

“Give her some privacy first,” her father advised.

The rhythmic beeping of the monitor was relentless, a constant reminder that life as I knew it had shifted beyond recognition.

The room was dimly lit, the antiseptic smell overpowering; a setting meant for healing.

In my heart, though, nothing felt fixable.

Amelia lay still and small in the hospital bed, an IV line connected to her fragile arm, her skin pallid, her lips chapped.

The doctor stood nearby, reviewing his notes. “Her blood pressure plummeted,” he explained. “Stress-induced hypotension is what we call it. Coupled with pregnancy, it led to a vasovagal response. Her body essentially shut down to protect itself from severe stress.”