My name is Cassandra. Until six months ago, I thought I knew everything about the man I was going to marry—I believed I’d found my happily ever after.
I met Adam two years ago at a friend’s birthday. His charm and smile captivated me. We moved in together within six months, shared routines, coffee, and evening walks. A year later, he proposed by a mountain lake, and we joyfully planned an intimate countryside wedding with close family, soft lights, and a live band. Our officiant, Sarah, impressed us with her warmth; she even teared up talking about us.
On our wedding morning, excitement turned to panic when Sarah fell ill. A replacement, Margaret, was arranged. But as my dad and I approached the ceremony, he warned me—Adam looked off: jittery, pale, tense. And beside him stood Margaret, not Sarah, but a stern woman who began speaking oddly scripted lines.
Then she stunned us all: “Don’t marry him.” She revealed Adam had a secret—he’d abandoned his wife and newborn daughter after their birth three years ago. Adam tried to dismiss her as crazy. But Margaret insisted she was protecting me.
My heart froze—Adam had hidden his past, dodged questions, and kept finances separate. If he could abandon his own child, he could do it again. I slipped off the ring, refused to marry someone who walks away from their own blood, called off the reception, and walked out—leaving chaos behind.
Later, I discovered Margaret had been sent purposely to expose him.