The bridal suite at the Fairmont felt like a dream. Soft lighting glowed across ivory walls, and the distant sound of a string quartet drifted up from the ballroom below. Every detail had been planned with care, from the flowers to the seating to the gown that fit me so perfectly it felt like part of me.
My name is Claire Whitfield, and on that morning, I believed I was stepping into a new life with Ryan Bennett. My family name carried its own weight, but I wasn’t thinking about any of that. All I focused on were the vows we would exchange and the future I thought we would build together.
She crossed the room without a word and pressed a small folded note into my hand. Her fingers were cold, her voice barely above a whisper.
