VOWS HE WROTE IN BLOOD

My wedding rehearsal was supposed to be perfect. Father Michael had lit the candles along the altar, the string quartet Ethan hired was playing something soft and classical, and the smell of white lilies was everywhere. It was the kind of evening I had dreamed about since I was sixteen years old. I was standing at the front in a simple white dress, not my real wedding dress, holding Ethan's hands. My fiancé. My future. He was smiling at me like he always did, that easy, charming smile that made everyone love him. Everything was perfect until Father Michael read the vows. "Avery," he said, reaching into the small wooden box on the podium and holding up a black card I had never seen before. His old hands were shaking a little. "Please read your vows to Ethan. The bride's final vows." My smile froze. Black? My vow cards were ivory. I had spent three nights writing them in gold ink. Ethan and I had promised each other we would write them ourselves. I stared at the card in his hand. It wasn't my handwriting. It wasn't Ethan's. The ink was black, thick, and the letters were sharp, like they had been pressed into the paper with anger. It said: _"I vow to say your name even when you tell me not to._ _I vow to have loved you for two years before you ever looked at me._ _I vow to keep you, even if I have to steal you from my own best friend to do it."_ The words didn't make sense. My brain refused to understand them. The entire church went silent. The music stopped. I could hear my own breathing, loud and uneven. My hands started to shake so badly that Ethan's hands tightened around mine. Ethan, my fiancé, stood up from the front pew where he was sitting to watch. "That's not what we wrote," he said, confused. He looked at me. "Ave? What is that?" "I know," I whispered. My voice was gone. "Ethan, I didn't write this. I swear I didn't write this." Father Michael frowned, his white eyebrows pulling together. He looked down at the envelope in his hand. "It was in the envelope marked 'Bride's Final Vows' - given to me by the best man this morning. He said you made a last-minute change." Every head turned. My mother, Ethan's mother, the bridesmaids. Every head turned to the back of the church. To Knox Sterling. Ethan's best friend. The billionaire who had paid for our entire wedding, for this church, for the flowers. The man I had supposedly only met last week at our engagement party when Ethan introduced us. The man who barely spoke to me, who only watched. He was leaning against the back wall in a black suit that cost more than my entire wedding. His arms were crossed. His dark hair was perfectly combed. He was watching me like he had been waiting for this exact moment for a very long time, like he had rehearsed it. His eyes were dark green and completely calm. No apology. No surprise. "There was a mistake with the cards," Knox said, his voice low and smooth and carrying through the entire silent church. "Read them anyway, Avery. They are truer than whatever you wrote." My knees felt weak. "Why would you have my vow cards?" Ethan snapped, his voice suddenly angry. He stepped away from me, toward his best friend. "Knox, what the hell is this joke?" Knox didn't look at Ethan. He didn't even blink. His eyes never left mine. "Because I wrote them," he said simply. "Two years ago. The night Ethan showed me your photo for the first time at my office and I knew I would never let another man actually have you. I've been writing them every night since." My heart stopped. Literally stopped. Two years? Ethan looked at me, then at Knox, his face pale. "What are you talking about? You met her last week." But I couldn't speak. Because I recognized the handwriting on that black card. My fingers were trembling so hard now. It was the same handwriting from every love letter Ethan had given me this year. Every letter that arrived at my apartment with no return address that Ethan said he left for me. Every letter that made me cry. Every letter that made me say yes to marrying him. _I have loved you since the first time I saw you in the coffee shop with your book..._ They were never from Ethan. Ethan doesn't read books. They were from him. They were always from him. From the back of the church, Knox walked slowly toward me down the long aisle. His shoes echoed. Tap. Tap. Tap. Everyone was frozen. He was holding a second black card - his own vows. He stopped in front of me, too close. I could smell his cologne, dark and expensive. I could see the faint scar on his jaw. He slipped the second card into my trembling hands, his fingers brushing mine. His skin was warm. "Tomorrow," he whispered so only I could hear, his breath against my ear, "when you say 'I do' to him, you will be reading my vows. And everyone will think you're marrying Ethan. But you and I will know who you really promised yourself to. You were mine before you were his, Avery Morgan Quinn." He brushed past me, his shoulder touching mine, and walked out the side door. And I stood there holding his vows in blood-black ink, knowing - my wedding was already ruined before it even began.