6 Chapter 6
#Chapter 6 – The Traitor’s Vows and a Stranger’s Solace
The moment. Julian rushed out with my bleeding stepsister, I collapsed into my office chair. My phone buzzed almost immediately–my father.
“What have you done to your sister?” Harrison Ashworth’s voice boomed through the speaker without so much as a hello.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t do anything to her. She fell”
“She’s in the hospital again!” he shouted. “Julian says you pushed her!”
Of course he did. “I didn’t push her. She grabbed me, I pulled away, and she lost her balance. Not that you’d ever believe me over precious Ivy”
“Watch your tone,” he warned. “That girl is dying”
I
“That ‘girl‘ stole my fiancé and my wedding,” I snapped back.
A heavy silence followed. When my father spoke again, his voice had changed. It was calmer, calculating.
“Hazel, I need to discuss something with you.”
The sudden shift made me suspicious. “What?”
“It’s about your mother’s shares in Ashworth Industries.
My breath caught. My mother’s shares–the last piece of her legacy, the part of my inheritance that my
father had kept from me since her death.
“What about them?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I’m willing to sign them over to you”
My heart raced. I’d been fighting for those shares for years. “Why now?”
“Ivy wants you at the wedding,” he said bluntly. “She wants you to walk her down the aisle.”
The phone nearly slipped from my hand. “What?”
“You heard me. Be her witness. Walk her down the aisle. Show public support for her marriage to Julian.”
“You can’t be serious. I laughed bitterly. “You want me to give away my own fiancé to my stepsister? That’s sick.”
“Ex–fiancé,” he corrected coldly. “And yes, that’s exactly what I want. Do this one thing, and your mother’s shares–thirty percent of Ashworth Industries–are yours”
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My mind raced. Those shares were worth millions. More importantly, they were my birthright, stolen from me when my mother died.
“Why does Ivy want me there so badly?” I asked.
“People are talking,” my father said. “The scandal is affecting the company. If you’re seen supporting this marriage, it legitimizes everything”
Of course. It was all about appearances. It always was with my
“I’ll think about it, I said finally.
family.
“Don’t think too long,” he warned. “The wedding is this Saturday.
Three days from now. In my venue. With my dress design.
“I want the paperwork for the shares ready before the wedding,” I demanded. “And I want it reviewed by my lawyer.”
*Fine,” he agreed too quickly. “We’ll meet tomorrow,”
After hanging up, I called Victoria.
“They want me to walk Ivy down the aisle, I said when she answered.
“They WHAT?” Victoria screeched. “Tell me you told them to go to hell!”
“My father offered my mother’s shares in exchange.”
Victoria fell silent. She knew what those shares meant to me.
“Hazel,” she said softly, “are you really considering this?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Those shares are the last piece of my mother I have left.”
*But at what cost?” she asked. “They’re making you humiliate yourself publicly.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But maybe I can turn this around somehow.”
Saturday arrived too quickly. The shares were legally mine now–I’d made sure of that. My lawyer had gone over every document with a fine–tooth comb before I signed anything.
The wedding was at the Grand Pavilion–the venue I’d booked for my own wedding. I arrived. early, stomach knotted with dread.
My stepmother Eleanor intercepted me in the bridal suite.
“You actually came,” she said, looking me up and down with disdain. “I’m surprised you have the backbone.
I smoothed down my simple navy blue dress. “I’m here for the shares, not for you.”
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Eleanor’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Of course, the pragmatic one” She adjusted the mother–of–the–bride corsage on her wrist. “Ivy’s getting ready. Try not to upset her before her big moment.”
As she turned to leave, she paused. “Oh, and Hazel? The dress looks even better on Ivy than it would have on you.
I balled my hands into fists, forcing myself to stay calm as she walked away.
When I entered Ivy’s dressing room, I nearly gasped. There she was, wearing the wedding dress I’d designed for myself. The one Julian had insisted I create from scratch. The one that had taken me months to perfect.
“Hazel!” Ivy exclaimed, turning from the mirror. Her illness seemed to have momentarily receded. She looked radiant, beautiful–and victorious. “You came!”
“As agreed,” I said stiffly.
“The dress is perfect,” she said, smoothing her hands over the intricate beadwork I’d spent countless nights on. “Julian says I look like an angel.”
Each word was a dagger. “I’m sure he does.”
“Thank you for doing this,” Ivy said, her eyes wide with practiced sincerity. “It means so much to me that you’ll walk me down the aisle.”
I fought to keep my face neutral. “Let’s be clear. I’m doing this for my mother’s shares, not for
you.”
Something flashed in Ivy’s eyes–anger, maybe, that I wasn’t playing along with her charade of sisterly reconciliation. But she quickly composed herself.
“Still, I appreciate it,” she said softly. “We’ll make quite the picture, won’t we? The devoted sister, supporting me in my time of need.”
The wedding coordinator knocked on the door. “Five minutes, Miss Ashworth.
My heart hammered as I took my position. My father stood on Ivy’s other side, beaming with pride. The music began–the same song I’d selected for my own entrance.
“Ready?” my father whispered to Ivy, completely ignoring me.
The doors opened, and a sea of familiar faces turned toward us. These were supposed to be my wedding guests. My friends. My colleagues. Now they watched in confused horror as I escorted my stepsister down the aisle to marry my ex–fiancé.
I heard the whispers as we walked.
“Isn’t that Julian’s ex?
“Why is she here?”
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Chapter 6
“Did they force her to do this?”
“How humiliating…”
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Julian stood at the altar, his eyes filling with tears as he watched Ivy approach. The same tears he’d promised would fall when he saw me in my wedding dress. He didn’t even look at me.
Each step felt like walking through concrete. The aisle seemed endless, a public gauntlet of my humiliation.
When we reached the altar, the minister asked, “Who gives this woman to be married?”
“We do,” my father answered, squeezing Ivy’s hand.
I remained silent, my throat tight with unshed tears.
As I placed Ivy’s hand in Julian’s, he finally looked at me. There was a flicker of something in his eyes–regret, perhaps, or embarrassment. But it was quickly replaced with determination as he turned back to Ivy.
“Thank you,” he whispered to her, loud enough for me to hear. “You look beautiful.”
I stepped back, my role in this farce complete. As I moved to take my seat in the front row, I caught Ivy’s triumphant smile. This was what she had wanted all along–not just Julian, but to see me broken, publicly defeated.
| sat alone, surrounded by strangers who knew I was the discarded fiancée. Tears welled in my eyes as Julian began his vows–words that had once been meant for me.
“I promise to cherish you for all the days we have together,” he said to Ivy, his voice cracking Wmotion. “However many or few they may be.
A tear slipped down my check. I wiped it away quickly, determined not to let them see me cry.
Suddenly, a pristine white handkerchief appeared in my peripheral vision. I turned to find a man had taken the seat beside me–a stranger with an expensive suit and an air of quict authority.
“You might need this, he said, his deep voice low enough that only I could hear.
I hesitated before taking it. “Thank you,” I whispered, dabbing at my eyes.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the ceremony. “It’s his misfortune and bad luck that he couldn’t marry you?
I turned to look at him fully, startled by his words. Who was this man, and why was he offering comfort to a stranger? More importantly, how had he known exactly what I needed to hear at my lowest moment?
