Betrayed at the Altar

Chapter 1: The Wedding That Never Was The bridal suite smelled faintly of gardenias and fresh linen, the kind of fragrance Rachel once imagined would fill the happiest day of her life. Now, it just made her stomach churn. She stood before a gilded mirror, her fingers trembling as she fixed the final pin into her veil. Her reflection looked ethereal, but something inside her felt uneven—like she was wearing someone else's fairytale. “Jennie,” she whispered, “do I look okay?” Jennie turned from the window, eyes instantly softening. “Okay? Rach, you look like every poet’s prayer. If Bruce doesn’t faint the second he sees you, I’ll eat my bouquet.” Rachel gave a brittle laugh. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t faint before the vows.” Jennie walked over and placed her hands on Rachel’s shoulders. “Hey. You okay? Your hands are ice.” Rachel blinked rapidly. “Yeah. Just nerves, I guess. We’ve… we’ve been through a lot.” That much was true. Bruce had been there when her mother was hospitalized. He had carried her through her darkest nights—hadn’t he? Jennie beamed. “He loves you. Everyone can see it. You’re finally getting your happy ending.” That word—finally—clung to Rachel’s ribs like ice. They arrived at the chapel a little late. The scent of roses was thick in the air, and the warm hum of murmuring guests filled the grand space. Rachel’s heart pounded with every step. She should’ve felt joy. Instead, her breath came shallow, her chest tight. As the wedding coordinator ushered the bridesmaids to their places, Rachel raised a hand. “I just need a minute. Powder room,” she said, forcing a smile. Jennie gave her a thumbs-up. “I’ll stall. Don’t faint, okay?” The hallway was quiet. The dim light from the chandeliers cast flickering shadows on the walls. As Rachel passed the old study room next to the chapel—a space she thought was locked—something stopped her. Laughter. A woman’s laugh. Familiar. She paused. Her heart jolted. Amanda? Her hand hovered at the door. She shouldn’t have paused. But she did. Through the slight opening, she heard Bruce’s voice—low, velvety, and unmistakable. “You really get off on this, don’t you?” Laughter again. Amanda’s. “Come on, Bruce,” she said, teasing. “One last time. Before you break little Rachel’s heart.” There was a pause. A sigh. Bruce’s voice, softer now: “We shouldn’t be doing this.” “Today is perfect,” Amanda purred. “She’s upstairs crying into her makeup, thinking you love her. God, it’s like high school all over again.” “It’s not that simple,” he murmured. Amanda’s voice dropped lower. “Yes, it is. You don’t really love her. You love the version of yourself you think she sees—the good man, the clean-slate man. But we both know that’s not who you are, Bruce.” Bruce’s throat tightened. “She believes in me. I want to be that man for her.” Amanda's lips curled into a mocking smile. “She believes in fairy tales. You and I? We know what the world really is. Harsh. Transactional. Real love doesn’t survive it. But loyalty does. Debt does.” Amanda chuckled. “I told you, Bruce. We don’t end. I just needed you to realize she was nothing more than a distraction. You owe me. We’ve been together forever.” Rachel’s world spun. Together forever? Bruce… and Amanda? Bruce, who told Rachel she was his first real love. Bruce, who swore Amanda was “just an old friend.” Her knees weakened as she leaned closer, unable to tear herself away. “She’s not stupid,” Bruce said suddenly, his voice taut. “Rachel’s kind. Too kind. She believes in people.” Amanda sneered. “Exactly why this prank will go viral. A blind little bride waiting for a man who’s already mine.” Rachel stumbled back from the door, one hand over her mouth. Prank? Viral? Her entire body went cold. Loyalty. Meant to be. Each word slammed into her like a punch. Her Bruce. Her love. Her future. A prop in some twisted power play. She fled to the restroom, locked the door, and collapsed onto the counter. Her veil tangled in the sink as tears poured down her cheeks, smearing her foundation and dissolving everything she believed in. The small room felt colder now. Bruce didn't hear the click of heels retreating down the hallway. Bruce clenched his jaw. Amanda stepped even closer, her voice softening into a whisper. “Do you remember the lake?” His chest tightened. “Do you remember the panic in your voice as you slipped under?” she continued. “The way you screamed for help before everything went dark?” Bruce’s fists trembled. “Stop—” “My brother heard you. Anthony didn’t even think. He dove in knowing his heart was weak. Knowing he might not come back up. But he did it anyway.” “I know what he did,” Bruce snapped, his voice raw. “He died because of you, Bruce,” Amanda hissed. “Because he saved you. And you owe him everything for that. Everything.” Bruce’s breath was shallow now. “I’ve carried that guilt every day. I never asked for his sacrifice—” “But you benefited from it,” she cut in coldly. “My brother is gone. And you’re alive. Getting married. Pretending the slate is clean. But it’s not.” He shook his head. “Rachel didn’t have anything to do with that—” “She doesn’t belong in this life,” Amanda said, voice rising. “She’s a housewife daughter. She doesn’t understand the world we move in. You think love is going to protect her from what’s coming? You think she can stand beside you when things get real?” Bruce looked away. “I don’t care about Harvard,” Bruce muttered, jaw clenching. “I don’t care about my father’s expectations or your family’s influence.” “You do,” Amanda said softly. “You just don’t want to admit it. You want to pretend love is enough. That marrying a girl who still believes in fairy tales will erase everything else. But it won’t.” Bruce stayed quiet, breathing uneven. Amanda’s tone changed—softer, almost pleading. “You owe him. And you owe me.” He looked at her slowly. “I’ve spent years living like I did.” A long silence fell between them. “She deserves better than this,” Bruce said hoarsely. Amanda shrugged. “So? Let her find it—after you walk away. She’ll move on. She’s strong, right? Isn’t that what you always said?” “She’ll be crushed,” Bruce whispered. “I will destroy her.” Amanda didn’t flinch. “That’s the price of evolution, Bruce. Rachel's Point of View She could still hear Amanda’s voice echoing in her skull: She’s nothing more than a distraction. The memories tried to fight back: Bruce holding her hand when her mother was hooked to IVs. The time he gave up a major football game to attend her thesis presentation. The way he said “I love you” like it was the only truth in the world. She looked into the mirror. Mascara streaks carved down her cheeks like warpaint. Could it all have been a lie? Was I always just the filler between his forever? Her breath shook. And yet, a part of her heart—desperate, fragile—clung to one last thread. Maybe… he didn’t mean for it to go this far. Maybe… he’ll change his mind. Maybe he’ll choose me. She wiped her tears, straightened her shoulders, and reached for her lipstick with trembling hands. “If you love me, Bruce…” she whispered to her reflection, “you won’t go through with it.” And then she walked to the chapel doors, head held high, veil floating behind her like a ghost of the girl who once believed in happily ever after. The music swelled. And the betrayal was waiting. Amanda’s Point of View Rachel Alvarez. Even her name made Amanda’s stomach curl. Every time she heard it spoken—softly in admiration by teachers, breathlessly by boys who should’ve looked at Amanda instead—she felt it. That quiet, boiling resentment. The kind that didn't scream, but coiled under the skin like a snake waiting for its moment. Rachel was everything Amanda pretended not to notice. Smart, but not in the try-hard, obvious way. Polite, even when ignored. Pretty, in that classic, effortless way that made Amanda’s designer beauty feel… artificial. But worst of all? Rachel was from a normal family. Middle class. No yachts. No legacy admissions. Her mother is a housewife. Her father? Who even knew? And somehow… somehow, Rachel was always the one winning. Valedictorian. Student body president. Volunteer of the year. And then Bruce. That was when Amanda snapped. Because Bruce Colton—the golden boy of Westbridge, heir to Colton Enterprises, her childhood love, her inevitable future—noticed her. He was supposed to look at Amanda and see his match. Heir to heir. Empire to empire. Their parents even used to joke they’d be married someday. But then Bruce met her. That shy, stammering girl with the stitched-up bookbag and the annoying way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she got nervous. He changed. Slowly, then all at once. Amanda remembered the moment it began. Bruce had missed a yacht party her father threw to sit at the hospital with Rachel when her mother had a stroke. "She's scared," he had told Amanda when she demanded an explanation. "She needs me." That was the first time Amanda tasted fury. Not jealousy. Fury.