After She Walk Away

Chapter One: Wedding Fever

The mirror reflected everything Isabella Hart had ever wanted. White silk clung to her body in ways that made her feel like a woman instead of just a hardworking marketing executive who lived on coffee and conference calls. Her auburn curls had been tamed into an elegant updo, small white flowers tucked between the waves. The dress had cost three months of savings, but when she’d tried it on, Jade had actually cried.

“You look like you’re about to marry a prince,” her best friend had said.

Isabella hadn’t wanted a prince. She’d wanted Adrian.

“Bella, they’re ready for you.” Her mother’s voice came through the bridal suite door, tight with excitement and something else Isabella couldn’t name. Patricia Hart had been waiting for this day since Isabella brought Adrian home four years ago. A Blackwell. Money. Prestige. Everything Patricia had wanted for her daughters but never achieved herself.

Isabella took one last look at herself. Twenty nine years old. Marketing director at Morrison & Wells, one of the most competitive firms in Riverside City. About to marry the man she’d loved since she was twenty five. Her life was finally, perfectly on track.

“Coming, Mom.”

The door opened. Patricia stood there in her mother-of-the-bride dress, champagne colored and probably more expensive than she’d admit to Isabella’s father. Her eyes scanned Isabella from head to toe, and for a moment, something like regret flickered across her face.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Isabella gathered her skirt, the silk whispering against her legs. “Is Vanessa at the church already?”

Patricia’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “She’s with the wedding party. Everything is arranged.

Vanessa. Her baby sister. Maid of honor. The only shadow on an otherwise perfect day had been Vanessa’s strange mood for the past month. Distant. Guilty, almost. But when Isabella had asked, Vanessa had plastered on her influencer-perfect smile and blamed it on a bad breakup.

The car ride to Saint Catherine’s Church felt both endless and too short. Patricia made small talk about the flowers, the reception venue, how lovely the weather was for October. Isabella watched the city slide past the tinted windows. Riverside City had been her home for seven years now, since she’d graduated from NYU and landed her first marketing job. She’d built a life here. A real life.

And in twenty minutes, she’d be Mrs. Adrian Blackwell.

The church rose before them, all Gothic stone and stained glass. Cars lined the circular drive. Isabella could see people in formal wear climbing the steps, her coworkers and Adrian’s business associates mixing with family members and college friends. Two hundred guests. Adrian had wanted small, but Patricia had insisted.

“A Blackwell wedding should be memorable,” she’d said

Jade was waiting at the side entrance, stunning in the deep green bridesmaid dress they’d chosen together. But her face was wrong. Tight. Worried.

“Jade?” Isabella gathered her dress and stepped out of the car. “What’s wrong? Is it the flowers? I knew we should have confirmed with the florist yesterday.”

“The flowers are fine.” Jade’s dark eyes darted to Patricia, then back to Isabella. She lowered her voice. “Bella, can we talk for a second?”

“We’re on a schedule.” Patricia’s hand closed around Isabella’s elbow. “The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Mom, give us a minute.

Patricia’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she nodded and headed into the church, her heels clicking against the stone.

Isabella turned to Jade. “What is it?”

“I don’t know how to say this.” Jade’s hands twisted together, and that was wrong too. Jade Williams didn’t get nervous. She was a corporate lawyer who’d once made a senior partner cry during a deposition. “Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Jade, you’re scaring me.”

“Adrian and Vanessa have been acting weird. All morning. They keep looking at each other, and when I walked into the groom’s room earlier, they were having some kind of intense conversation. They stopped the second they saw me.”

Something cold settled in Isabella’s stomach. “They’ve known each other for years. They’re probably just nervous. Vanessa’s been weird about her ex, and Adrian always gets quiet before big events.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” But Jade didn’t look convinced. “I just… I have a bad feeling, Bella. And my bad feelings are usually right.”

“It’s wedding day jitters. Everything’s fine.” Isabella squeezed her friend’s hand, trying to ignore the way her heart had started hammering. “Come on. Let’s go get me married.”

The bridal suite was chaos. Bridesmaids everywhere, three of Adrian’s cousins and two of Isabella’s work friends, all adjusting dresses and touching up makeup. Vanessa stood by the window in her maid of honor dress, the same deep green as Jade’s but somehow different on her petite frame. She looked like a fairy tale, blonde and delicate.

She looked guilty as hell.

“Nessa.” Isabella crossed to her sister. “Hey. You okay?”

Vanessa turned. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed. “Bella. You look so beautiful.”

“You’ve been crying.”

“Just emotional.” Vanessa’s smile was brittle. “My big sister is getting married.”

They’d never been close, not really. Four years apart in age, different in every way that mattered. Isabella had been the straight-A student, the scholarship winner, the one with the plan. Vanessa had been the pretty one, the social one, the one who could light up a room but couldn’t balance a checkbook. Their parents had always made comparisons, usually in Isabella’s favor.

Isabella had tried to make up for it. Helped Vanessa with job applications, let her crash in her apartment during bad breakups, sent money when Vanessa’s influencer income dried up. They were sisters. That’s what you did.

“I need to tell you something.” Vanessa’s voice dropped to a whisper.

The wedding coordinator bustled in before she could continue. “Ladies! Five minutes! Bride, we need you in position.”

The next five minutes blurred. Bouquet in her hands, white roses and peonies. Her father appearing in his rented tux, eyes suspiciously bright. The bridesmaids lining up. Music starting. The doors to the sanctuary opening.

Two hundred faces turning to look at her.

And at the end of the aisle, Adrian.

Six foot two, dark hair perfect, blue eyes locked on her. His expression was strange. Not joyful. Not excited. Something desperate and lost.

Isabella’s feet moved automatically, her hand on her father’s arm. Left. Right. Left. Right. The aisle stretched forever.

She barely heard the music. Her eyes were on Adrian, trying to read what was wrong, because something was definitely wrong. His jaw was clenched. His hands were fists at his sides.

They reached the altar. Her father lifted her veil, kissed her cheek, and placed her hand in Adrian’s.

His palm was sweating.

The officiant began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

Isabella didn’t hear the words. She was watching Adrian’s face. He looked like a man going to his execution.

“If anyone has reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The traditional pause. No one ever actually objected at weddings. It was ceremonial

“I do.”

The voice was Adrian’s.