My Unborn Son Stopped My Wedding

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I had spent eight years of my life loving Bria Hamilton. Now, we were standing at the altar, a shotgun wedding meant to seal our forever.

The officiant cleared his throat, the sound echoing through the vaulted stone chapel. Miles Crawford, do you take Brianna Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded wife?

The words were on the tip of my tongue, ready to be offered up like a sacrifice. But before I could speak, a tiny, high-pitched voicesharp as a needleexploded inside my head.

[Dad! Dont do it! Brias baby isn't yours!]

[The kid in her belly belongs to your brother!]

My brain felt like it had short-circuited. My vision blurred for a second as those two sentences burned through my consciousness. The entire guest list was staring at me, waiting for the "I do," but I was frozen, a statue in a designer tux.

If Brias baby wasnt mine... then whose voice was this? Who was this child calling me "Dad"?

A split second later, the voice chimed in again, sounding exasperated.

[Stupid Dad! Shes been playing you for years. If you marry her, shes going to lock you in the basement and take everything!]

[Quick! Ask for help from my mom! Shes the beautiful, rich one in the front row!]

I was reeling. My eyes instinctively darted toward the front row, landing on Helena Vanderwaal.

She was the "Ice Queen" of the East Coast elitea woman who lived in a world of high-stakes acquisitions and silent retreats. She was untouchable, ethereal, and famously single.

Even though it was my wedding day, the gravity of the room always seemed to pull toward Helena. She sat there with a cold, detached grace that made everyone else look like they were trying too hard.

I caught her gazecrystalline and indifferentand immediately looked away, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Little one, I thought, my mind racing, do you have any idea who she is? Thats Helena Vanderwaal. Shes the CEO of the Vanderwaal Group. She doesnt have a man in her life, let alone a child. How could you be hers?

I know things are messy with Bria, but you cant just make things up. You cant just pick a billionaire to be your mother. Get real.

Its too late to find a new mom now. Maybe in the next life, kid.

I tried to soothe the voice, assuming it was some hallucination born of cold feet and trauma. But the voice screamed back, louder this time:

[Did you seriously forget that night at the St. Regis?]

[Your wife and your brother drugged you! They were going to 'gift' you to a client to close a deal, but you stumbled into the wrong suite...]

[The woman in that bed was Helena Vanderwaal!]

The memory hit me like a physical blow. The St. Regis. Three months ago. I had woken up in a haze, the sheets smelling of expensive perfume and something metallic. I remembered a back covered in faint red marks and the rhythm of frantic breathing in the dark.

I had thought it was Bria. I thought we had just... had a wild night.

But looking at Helena now, I remembered the way she had clung to my neck, her poise shattered, her cries muffled against my shoulder. The "Ice Queen" had been molten lava that night.

The officiant, sensing the awkward silence stretching too long, repeated the question:

"Mr. Miles Crawford, do you take Brianna Hamilton to be your wife?"

Bria squeezed my arm, her smile tight with growing concern.

"Miles? Whats wrong? Just nerves?" she whispered, her voice like honeyed poison. She scratched the palm of my hand playfully. "Don't be scared. Once were married, Ill give you everything."

[Dont believe her! she bought a house right next to your new place just so she can keep sleeping with Tristan!]

The jolt of adrenaline was so sharp I nearly jumped. I took a deep breath and shouted:

"I don't!"

The room erupted.

The Hamiltons were old money in this town. Rejecting Bria in front of the crme de la crme of society was unthinkable. Especially since I had spent years being Brias "lapdog," the guy who had shamelessly chased her until she finally said yes. I was the "wild" Crawford son who had finally been tamed.

And now, at the finish line, I was walking away.

Brias face turned a sickly shade of gray. "Miles, stop playing. This is the wedding! If you're upset about something, we can talk after the reception..."

[If you wait until after the reception, she wins! My mom is leaving the country tonight to chase after her 'Great Lost Love'!]

[Dad, time is running out! Kick the liar to the curb and get your gorgeous, rich baby-mama back!]

"I'm not marrying you," I said, my voice hardening. A son wouldn't lie to his father. If he said Bria was a snake, she was a snake.

My brother, Tristan, stepped up onto the altar then, moving with a practiced, casual grace. He stood right next to Bria.

"Miles, what kind of stunt is this? Bria is doing you a favor by marrying you. Don't be an ass."

As he got closer, I noticed the ring on his finger. It was a diamond band, nearly identical to my wedding ring. But as the light hit it, I realized mine looked like a cheap imitation compared to the fire dancing on his hand.

The realization settled in my gut like lead. The baby Bria was carryingit was their plan.

Tristan was the "adopted" golden boy, the one our parents adored. He didn't have the pedigree to marry into the Hamiltons on his own. I was the bridge. I was the tool to merge the families, and then Id be the "happy" father raising his brothers child while they carried on their affair next door.

My parents stood up, their faces purple with rage. "Miles Crawford! Haven't you embarrassed this family enough? You think marriage is a joke?"

"You begged for this girl! And now you're throwing a tantrum? Why can't you be more like Tristan? He actually understands what's at stake!"

"You are marrying her today, whether you like it or not!"

The wedding had devolved into a circus. Guests were whispering behind their programs, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of a scandal.

"The Crawford boy is finally losing it," I heard someone hiss. "He spent years acting like her shadow, and now he wants to back out? His parents are going to disinherit him by tonight."

"The adopted one is so much more grounded. At least he knows how to play the game."

"Shame. The biological son is always the disappointment."

The words stung, but they also cleared the fog. I realized that my reputation in this town had been systematically dismantled. I used to be the refined Crawford heir, but since Tristan entered the picture, my standing had evaporated. My father and Bria had slowly turned me into a caricature of a loser.

Bria grabbed my hand, ignoring my rejection as she turned to the crowd with a forced, brave smile.

"Miles is just having a bit of an episode. Please, excuse us. Hes just overwhelmed. Were going to proceed."

I saw Tristan clenching his fist out of the corner of my eye. I took a sharp breath and wrenched my hand away from Bria.

"I said no! I know about you and my brother! I know that baby in your womb belongs to Tristan!"

The silence that followed was deafening. It was like a bomb had gone off in the chapel.

[Attaboy, Dad! Rip the masks off those two!]

[Tristans been the one leaking those 'drunk' photos of you to the press for years. Hes the reason everyone thinks youre a joke!]

The voice in my head was practically cheering.

"What are you saying?" Tristan gasped, clutching his chest like hed been shot. "Miles, youve always been hard on me, but this? To accuse me of something so vile in front of everyone?"

"How could you use Brias pregnancy as an excuse to run away from your responsibilities?"

Brias eyes flickered with a moment of pure panic before she smoothed it over with a look of righteous indignation.

"Miles, this is too much! If you didn't want to marry me, fine. But don't drag Tristan into your delusions!"

My father looked at me with pure disgust.

"Youre sick, Miles. Truly sick. To humiliate your brother and your bride like this? I don't know how we raised a son like you."

"Youve made us the laughingstock of the city!"

The guests were snickering now. "Unbelievable. The guy is actually delusional. Imagine accusing your own brother of that."

I ripped the boutonniere off my lapel and threw it on the floor. I turned to leave, but three heavy-set security guards blocked the exit. Bria seized the opportunity to grab my wrist again, her fingernails digging into my skin.

"Once were married," she hissed under her breath, her face twisting into something monstrous, "youll never be able to act out like this again."

I looked around. No one was on my side. They saw a clown, a liar, a man who needed to be controlled.

For the first time in years, I saw the cage for what it was.

[Dad, if the ceremony finishes, shes going to have you committed to a 'wellness retreat' in the mountains. It's a prison!]

[There are black SUVs waiting outside. If you leave this room without help, theyll snatch you!]

[Dad! Look at my Mommy!]

Helena? I looked toward her seat, but she was already standing up, signaling her assistant to leave.

[No! Shes heading to the airport! Shes going to find the 'Ghost of Christmas Past'!]

She was my only lifeline. In a moment of pure desperation, I bit down hard on Brias hand. She shrieked and let go. I bolted, diving through the crowd toward Helena.

Security lunged for me. I kicked over a table of champagne flutes, the crash of glass creating a momentary barricade of chaos. I ignored the screams and the splashing wine, focused entirely on the woman in the silk dress.

Helena turned just as I reached her. I collided with her, nearly knocking her over.

"Take me with you," I gasped, clutching her shoulders. "Please."

Her face was a mask of cold porcelain. She shoved me back with surprising strength, brushing off her dress like I was a piece of filth shed picked up in the street.

"Get lost," she said, her voice like dry ice. "I don't do charity cases. And I certainly don't touch men like you."

[Shes faking it, Dad! Shes totally putting on her 'Boss Bitch' act. Once she falls for you, shes a total clinger!]

Helena turned to walk away. I dropped to the floor and grabbed her ankle.

Steps thundered behind me. Bria and the guards were closing in. My parents were staring at Helena with terror, terrified of her wrath.

"We are so sorry, Ms. Vanderwaal," my father stammered. "Our son... hes had a mental break. Well handle him."

Bria chimed in, her voice trembling with fake humility. "I am so embarrassed. Ill make sure hes looked after, Ms. Vanderwaal. Please, forgive us."

Tristan stepped forward, looking at Helena with that thirsty, sycophantic gaze every man in the city had.

Helena didn't look at them. She looked down at my hand wrapped around her ankle. Tristan stepped up and ground his heel into the back of my hand.

"Miles, let go of her! Stop embarrassing yourself!"

I cried out in pain. Helena used the moment to pull her foot away, turning her back on me.

As she stepped toward the door, I screamed the only thing I had left:

"Helena! The baby youre carrying is mine!"

Helena stopped dead. The entire room fell into a tomb-like silence.

Every guest turned to look at me, and for the first time, it wasn't mockery in their eyesit was pity. They thought I was a dead man walking.

Tristans mask slipped for a second, replaced by a glint of malicious joy. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Miles, if you wanted to climb the social ladder, you picked the highest cliff to jump off of."

"Helena Vanderwaal isn't a woman you play with."

He was right. Everyone knew Helena lived like a nun. She wore a small, silver rosary around her wrist as a symbol of her detachment from the "filth" of romance. The last man who tried to force himself into her orbit had his life dismantled within forty-eight hours.

"He's literally asking for death," someone whispered. "I thought he was just a loser, but he's actually suicidal."

We all held our breath. Helena turned around slowly. Her lips were a thin line, her eyes freezing me in place. She began to twist the silver beads on her wrista sign, everyone knew, that she was losing her patience.

"My baby?" she said, her voice dangerously low. "Mr. Crawford, you have a lot of nerve."

"No one in this city talks to me like that. Ive heard about youthe pathetic groom who tries to pin his indiscretions on a woman like me to save his own skin?"

The clicking of the beads was the only sound in the room. Bria lunged forward and grabbed my hair, forcing my head down toward the floor in a mock apology.

"I am so sorry! He's delusional! Miles, apologize! Now!"

Bria didn't care that I was claiming another womans baby. She just wanted to keep me under her thumb so she and Tristan could have their cake and eat it too.

[Don't worry, Dad! Once you prove the baby is yours, she wont let them touch you!]

[With the Vanderwaals behind you, these people are nothing!]

Proof? I thought bitterly. What proof do I have? I barely even know who she is.

My father stormed over and slapped me across the facetwice. "Apologize! Youre going to get us all killed!"

Helena looked down at me like I was something shed found on the bottom of her shoe. I looked up at her, my vision swimming, and said as calmly as I could:

"Helena. I saw the birthmark. The one shaped like a rose, just below your hip."

Helena froze. Her expression didn't change, but her pupils blown wide. That mark was in an incredibly private place. No one could have known about it unless they had been... very close.

The rest of the room was confused, but Tristan was quick to pivot.

"Everyone has birthmarks, Miles. Youre grasping at straws. You probably saw it in a dream or heard a rumor. You really expect us to believe youve been with Ms. Vanderwaal?"

"If you're so sure, why don't we do a paternity test? Right here. Right now."

Tristan was smug. He didn't believe for a second that a nobody like me could have touched a woman like Helena. Even her presence at this wedding was a fluke, a result of Brias family spending a fortune on a charitable donation to Helenas foundation.

The crowd took up the chant. "Yeah! Test him! Lets see the liar exposed!"

"Kick him out of the city! Hes a disgrace!"

Helenas eyes were dark and unreadable. She knew she was pregnanthardly anyone else did. And this man knew about the mark.

Finally, she nodded.

"Fine. Well do the test. I want to see you realize exactly how much you've screwed up before I ruin you."

[Dad, youre the man! I cant wait to see her face when the results come in!]

[Ill show you how to handle her. Shes going to be your biggest fan soon enough!]

The scandal of the century was in motion. Within an hour, a private doctor arrived. Helena and I were both sampled while the guests hovered, sensing blood.

Helenas grandfather, the patriarch of the Vanderwaal family, had arrived by then. He stood in the corner, leaning on his cane, looking strangely hopeful.

"Finally," he muttered. "My granddaughter might actually have a husband."

Helena scoffed. "Don't get your hopes up, Grandfather. Once this is over, he won't be in any condition to walk, let alone marry."

I sat there, bruised and exhausted, watching the blood leave my arm. My parents were huddled together, whispering about how to disown me officially. Bria looked like she wanted to murder me.

[It hurts, Dad, but it's worth it! We're almost there!]

Finally, the doctor returned. He was pale, clutching a folder like it was a live grenade. He walked straight to Helena and whispered in her ear.

The "Ice Queen" looked like shed been struck by lightning.

Grandfather Vanderwaal hammered his cane on the floor. "Speak up! Is he the father of my great-grandchild or not?"

Tristan chuckled. "Of course not. Hes just a"

"The results," the doctor interrupted, his voice shaking, "show a 99.99% probability of paternity. Mr. Crawford is the father."