Page 23 of Heartless Stepbrother

When no one was watching, I slipped away. Just a few steps toward the window, the one framed in gauzy curtains and sunlight that spilled like liquid gold. Outside, the ocean shimmered in morning light. Calm. Innocent. A lie.

My fingers brushed the fabric of my dress, searching, finding the hidden pocket. The phone was small, warm from my body heat.

I shouldn’t.

But I did.

The screen lit up.

And the new message popped up.

You’re running out of time.

Stop the wedding before it’s too late.

Once she says “I do,” your fate is sealed.

The words glared back at me, black against white, simple and merciless. My stomach twisted, sharp as glass.

For a long, aching second, I couldn’t move. The chatter behind me dimmed, the room blurring at the edges. The dress felt too tight, the air too thin.

My throat locked around a breath that wouldn’t come.

I turned off the screen, shoving the phone back into the pocket as if I could bury the fear with it. I stood very still, watching the sunlight glint against the glass, pretending to be just another girl waiting for a wedding to start.

But inside, I could feel it, something shifting.

I turned back to the guests. Some faces I recognized from photographs my mother had sent in emails; others were strangers, their perfume and chatter as unfamiliar as their names.

Then the double doors opened again and two women swept in, their laughter spilling into the room like champagne fizz. I knew them instantly.

“Eleanor!” one cried, a tall woman with a mane of fiery red hair and an exuberant smile that made her green eyes spark. “My God, you look radiant!”

“Sarah! Morgan!” My mother’s face lit up as she crossed the room to embrace them.

Sarah’s arms wrapped tightly around her before she turned to me, her expression softening. “And this must be Luna. My goodness. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. I remember you as a little thing, always tucked in a corner with one of your dad’s history books too big for your lap.”

Morgan, petite and poised, her skin glowing against the pale silk of her dress, added warmly, “And asking the best questions. Always thinking. It’s wonderful to see you again, Luna.”

Their warmth was disarming. My smile came easily, unforced. “It’s lovely to see you both, too. I remember you visiting.”

“Of course you do, darling,” Eleanor beamed, sliding an arm through mine. “Sarah and Morgan were my bridesmaids at my wedding with your dad. They’ve been with me through everything.” She reached for their hands, her voice dipping into something more tender. “And now, they’re here for this new chapter.”

I let the moment settle around us like sunlight, bright, warm, and fleeting. Because deep down, I knew perfect days never stayed perfect for long.

My thoughts drifted to the messages on my phone.

Were they telling the truth? Because if they were, the perfect days would be over the second the marriage was official.

Soft music started to drift from a hidden speaker, an easy mix of breezy Hawaiian melodies and pop songs with infectious beats. Hairdryers whirred in a constant hum, punctuated by the metallic click of curling irons opening and snapping shut. The scent in the air was a heady cocktail, hairspray sharp enough to sting the back of my throat, mingling with the sweetness of the flowers and the warm, powdery trace of expensive perfume.

Champagne flutes clinked like tiny bells, women toasted, and bursts of laughter broke free without warning, fizzing into the air like champagne bubbles that would never pop.

I let myself be pulled into the current of it. One minute I was holding hairpins between my teeth, the next I was crouched at my mother’s feet, helping fasten the final row of delicate buttons on her gown. It was a dress spun from sunlight, white lace dusted with shimmer that caught every movement. I fetched lipsticks, passed tissues, and sat quietly while the women around me peeled back time with their stories about my mother at twenty, reckless and magnetic, dancing barefoot on rooftops and stealing kisses behind locked dorm doors.

It was a version of her I rarely saw. I wanted to hold onto it for as long as I could.

More people drifted in as the morning deepened. Relatives I didn’t know. Friends with voices too loud for such a delicate space. Each arrival brought new congratulations, new stories, new champagne top-ups.