Bridesmaid At My Second Wedding

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Three years ago, the wedding that was supposed to be the highlight of the New York social season became my public execution.

My ex, Quentin, didnt just leave me at the altar; he replaced me. In front of eight hundred guests, he announced a change of plans, a change of brides, and a total erasure of my dignity. I shattered that day. For a long time, the only thing I lived with was a crippling, suffocating depression that felt like drowning in slow motion.

Then came Gideon. He stepped into my life like a sunrise in a dark room. With a patience that felt holy, he stitched the pieces of my soul back together. He swore on everything he held dear that he would be my anchor, my sanctuary, my forever.

I actually believed him. I believed I had finally found a way out of the wreckage.

Until todaysixty minutes before our vows were set to begin.

Gideon walked into the bridal suite, but he wasnt carrying flowers. He was holding a bridesmaids dress. His face was a mask of cold indifference as he dropped the fabric onto the vanity and told me to put it on.

I gripped the lace of my white gown, my knuckles turning white. I couldnt process the words. My brain kept stuttering, trying to find a reason, a joke, anything.

He looked at my stunned face and let out a short, jagged laugh. It was a sound Id never heard from him beforeit lacked any trace of the man who had held me while I cried. He told me, quite casually, that hed forgotten to mention a small detail: the bride had changed.

He had a "kept woman"a girl he called his little songbird. Apparently, she had been demanding a title, a place in the sun. So, he decided to give her my wedding.

Gideon had the audacity to offer me a hollow comfort. He said the legal marriage certificate would still bear my name; the ceremony, the dress, the public "I do"that was just a performance for her. A gift.

The door pushed open before I could even scream. Callie strolled in. She moved with a slow, predatory grace. Half of her face was stunning, like a masterpiece, but the other half... it was a nightmare of melted wax and distorted features. It was a haunting, visceral sight.

Without a word, she reached out and ripped the silk from my shoulders, tearing the wedding dress right off my body until I was standing there in nothing but my slip.

She looked at me with a twisted, triumphant smile and called me "sister." The word felt like a slap.

Thats when the realization hit me like a physical blow. I knew her. She was the woman Quentin had married after he left me.

Gideon didn't even flinch. He wrapped his arm around Callies waist and kissed her right there, in the middle of my ruined dreams. He looked proud. He looked satisfied.

Callie leaned into him, her eyes locked on mine with pure malice. She whispered that my ex, Quentin, certainly had good tastethat she was "exquisite" in bed, a fact Quentin had clearly appreciated.

Her words were a serrated blade, sawing through the last of my heart.

I had been betrayed before, but I never thought Id be led to the same slaughterhouse by a different man. The hope, the trust, the healingit was all a lie. The abyss I had fought so hard to climb out of opened its mouth and swallowed me whole.

...

"What's the point of being a beauty queen if you can't even keep a husband?"

"Seriously, is this Callie girl some kind of sorceress? She looks like that, yet shes stolen two husbands from the most beautiful woman in the city? I need her to start a masterclass."

"Men are all the same. Callie must be thrilledfrom mistress to wife, and she gets to make the 'rightful' bride play bridesmaid twice!"

The whispers drifted through the air, sharp and poisonous. I dug my fingernails into my palms until I felt the warm slickness of blood, but the physical pain was a dull thud compared to the screaming in my head.

An hour ago, I was the woman of the hour. Now, just like three years ago, my carefully planned life was nothing but a dowry for Callie.

On the stage, they were exchanging rings. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out. But Gideons voicethat beautiful, demonic voicewas still vibrating in my ears.

"If you walk out that door, your sisters ventilator stops tonight. Daisy won't make it to sunrise."

When he saw the color drain from my face, he had the nerve to lean in. He kissed me with the same mouth hed just used on Callie.

"Don't look like that, Izzy," hed whispered. "Once Im bored with her, things will go back to how they were. Your ex only lasted three months with her before he was done. Just hold on a little longer..."

He watched my reaction, his eyes searching for my pain. When he saw my eyes turn bloodshot with unshed tears, he laugheda bright, joyous sound. "Yes! Thats it! Thats the exact face you made three years ago when Quentin replaced you at the altar!"

Callie stood beside him, looking down at me from the height of her stolen pedestal. "Pathetic," she mouthed.

I didn't look at her. My heart felt like it was being flayed alive. "Why?" I gasped, my fingers catching the fabric of his lapel. "Why, Gideon? Why are you doing this?"

He smiled, a cruel, handsome tilt of his lips. "Why? Why do you always need a reason? I fell for you at first sightyou didn't ask why then. Now Ive got a taste for someone else, and you're obsessed with the 'why' of it?"

"Fine. You want a reason? Shes better in bed. She makes me feel things you cant. Is that enough for you?"

My hands began to shake uncontrollably. It had been a year since my last major episode, but the tremors were backthe physical manifestation of a soul breaking apart.

Gideons eyes flickered with a momentary panic. He reached into his pocket and pulled out my medication, trying to force a pill into my mouth. Even while he was destroying me, he carried my meds. He acted as if he still couldn't stand to see me hurt.

I had been so afraid of marriage. It took every ounce of my strength to say yes to him, to believe that love wasn't a trap. How could he turn his heart off like a faucet? And how could he choose herthe one person who had already gutted me once before?

I couldn't hold it back anymore. I broke. The sobs tore out of me, jagged and ugly.

Gideon was the first to notice the tears. His face shifted from concern to a sneering contempt. "Isabel, youre still so incredibly stupid."

"You lose a man and all you know how to do is cry. But unfortunately for you, theres no 'second me' coming to save you this time."

As if on cue, the doors burst open and the paparazzi swarmed in like vultures. The flashes were blinding, the shutter clicks sounding like gunfire. The questions were relentless, honed to draw blood.

"Miss Thorne, can you explain why the invitations had your name, but you're standing here in a bridesmaid's dress?"

"How does it feel to be dumped at the altar for the second time? Do you think you're just cursed?"

"We heard you struggle with clinical depression. You're shakingis this a nervous breakdown on live TV?"

"How does it feel to lose two men to a woman like Callie?"

I clenched my fists, my gaze burning into Gideon. He leaned in and mouthed two words:

"Quentin. Accident."

The blood turned to ice in my veins.

Three years ago, when Quentin announced Callie as his bride, I had lost my mind. I had screamed. I had slapped him in front of everyone.

The price for that slap was my familys car being run off the road that night. My parents died instantly. My sister, Daisy, survived by a miracle, but she hadnt opened her eyes since.

Quentin had whispered it to me at the funeral: "If you'd just been a good girl, they'd still be alive."

Callie had laughed in my face: "Who cares if you're the 'it-girl'? You're just a discarded toy. You can't beat me."

Gideon was reminding me of the cost of rebellion. He was holding my sisters life over my head.

I took a shuddering breath, my teeth gritted so hard I thought they might shatter. I turned to the cameras, my voice trembling but audible. "I... I have no comment. I just wish Mr. and Mrs. Vance a very happy life together."

Gideon smiled, satisfied.

With that one sentence, I became the headline. I was the national laughingstock. The girl who didn't just loseshe thanked them for it.

That night, Gideon brought both of us back to the penthouse. Callie had been his "bird in a cage" for a year, but this was her first time stepping into the home I had built.

I had spent a month decorating the master suite for our wedding night. She took one look at it and claimed it.

She looped her arms around Gideons neck, her eyes fixed on me. "Gideon, honey... Im your wife now. That means everything here is mine, right?"

Gideon looked at her distorted face with a terrifyingly tender smile. "Everything."

"What about her?" Callie pointed a manicured finger at me.

I felt my heart hammering against my ribs, a trapped bird in a cage of bone. Gideon leaned down and playfully nipped her nose. "Do whatever you want with her."

I turned to run. I didn't care about the consequences; I just needed to be out of that house. But Gideons low, melodic voice drifted down the hall.

"Are you forgetting Daisy? You really want to run?"

I froze. Daisy was all I had left. My parents were gone because of me. I couldn't let her blood be on my hands too.

I turned back. Seeing Callies face in the dim light of the hallway sent a fresh jolt of horror through me. No matter how many times I saw itthe way the skin on the left side of her face sagged and puckeredthe primal fear remained.

Callie caught my expression. Her smile vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp fury. "You're afraid of my face, aren't you?"

My scalp tingled with dread. She had been bullied for that face her entire life. She was hyper-sensitive to every flinch, every look of pity or disgust. I could see the murderous intent in her eyes. "No... no, Im not..."

"Aren't you?" Callie laughed, a sound like dry leaves skittering on a grave. "Gideon, I don't like her. Let's just kill her. Let's get rid of her for good."

She said it with the sweetness of a child asking for candy. I remembered then what Quentin had told methat the "accident" that killed my parents had been Callie's idea. Why were men so drawn to this kind of darkness? Why did they choose her over me?

Gideons expression flickered with a brief, sharp annoyance. "Callie, don't forget your place."

"Isabel is still the woman I publicly claimed. She has a certain... value. You? You're still the thing that stays in the shadows."

Callies face twisted with resentment. I looked at Gideon, a tiny spark of hope igniting in my chest. Maybe he still cared. Maybe this was some sick test.

But then he crushed it.

"You can do anything you want to her," he said, his voice cold as a winter morning. "Just don't kill her."

That was the moment I finally died.

Callie let out a jagged, manic laugh. She grabbed a steak knife from the side table. She pinned me against the wall, her nails digging into my cheeks, and pressed the cold, sharp edge of the blade against my skin.

She didn't even push hard, but I felt the stinging line of heat as the skin parted.

I was paralyzed. "Please... not my face..."

My face was the only thing I had left of my mother. I looked so much like her. It was my only connection to the life I had lost.

But Callie was beyond reason. Her words were venom, dripping into my wounds. "I hate this pretty little face of yours."

"Why do you get to be the one everyone loves? Why do people look at you with stars in their eyes while they look at me like Im a monster? Youre the 'Belle of the Hamptons,' right? Lets see how they like you when you look just like me."

"No! Gideon! Please! You know... you know what this face means to me!"

I was sobbing so hard I could barely speak. I looked at Gideon, pleading with my eyes. He had told me a thousand times that my face was the most beautiful thing hed ever seen. He knew I used it to see my mother's ghost in the mirror.

He watched. He didn't blink. He didn't move. He wasn't just indifferent; he was enjoying the spectacle.

I realized then that he didn't love me. He didn't even love Callie. He loved the power of breaking things.

The instinct to surviveor perhaps just the pure terrorgave me a sudden burst of strength. I shoved Callie away. She tripped, the knife slipping from her hand, and as she fell, the blade caught the "good" side of her face, slicing a deep, ragged line across her cheek.

She let out a blood-curdling scream. I didn't wait. I bolted for the door, my throat dry and burning.

But the bodyguards were already there. They blocked the exit, their faces like stone.

Behind me, Gideons voice was slow, almost bored. "Izzy, I really didn't want to ruin that face. I liked looking at it."

He walked toward me, his steps heavy and deliberate. He grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at Callie, who was clutching her bleeding face and howling.

"But you broke my favorite toy's face. Shes very sensitive about her looks, Izzy. Im afraid I can't protect you anymore."

Callies screams turned into a manic, guttural sound. Gideon handed her back the knife. No matter how much I begged, no matter how much I screamed, he remained unmoved.

He held me down. He literally held me down while Callie took her revenge.

The blade cut into me, again and again. The sensation of skin being carved away was a white-hot agony that transcled pain. Everything in my vision turned a thick, sticky red.

Through the haze, I heard Gideon whispering in my ear.

"It's okay, Izzy. I'll still love you even when you're ugly. Not like Quentin. He only loved the surface. I love the broken things."

Darkness began to pull at the edges of my consciousness. I drifted into a memory.

Two years ago. Gideon had taken me to my final therapy session. The doctor told me I could stop the meds. Gideon had been so happy; hed kissed my forehead and promised me a surprise.

While I waited for him, I ran into Quentin. I was happy then. I had light in my eyes. Quentin saw it and told me he regretted everything. He tried to touch me, tried to pull me into his car.

Gideon saw us. He didn't see me rejecting Quentin; he saw me "glowing" because of him. He convinced himself that I was still in love with the man who had destroyed me. I had tried to explain for months, but he just went silent.

I woke up to the sound of rhythmic thumping and moaning from the next room.

"Gideon... do you like the black lace or the white?"

"I like it all..."

The sound of his voice through the wall was a spike through my heart. My body began to shakethe tremors were so violent I thought my bones might snap.

Gideon. You saved me from the darkness, only to become the monster waiting in it.

I listened to them for hours. Every sound was a fresh cut. Finally, the room next door went quiet. I heard the click of a lighter, and then Gideon walked into my room.

He knew I was a light sleeper. When we first moved in, he had the entire place carpeted and padded so I wouldn't wake up. He turned the house into a sanctuary of silence. Now, he used the sounds of his betrayal to wake me.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

The tremors were so bad I couldn't move. He sat on the edge of my bed and traced the bandages on the ruined half of my face as if he were touching silk.

"I won't ever leave you," he whispered. "I just wanted you to feel the pain. If it hurts enough, you'll never be able to forget me, will you?"

"When this is all over, it'll just be us. Forever."

I stared at him, my voice a broken rasp. "What are you talking about? I told you... I don't love Quentin. I haven't thought about him in years."

Gideons laugh was a hollow, self-deprecating thing. "Is that so? But Izzy... you don't know, do you? Every night for the last three years, youve called out his name in your sleep. Every. Single. Night."

His eyes were bloodshot, manic.

So this was it? All this horror because of a name I muttered in my nightmares? Or did he just want to own my trauma?

I shook my head, tears leaking from my one good eye. "Gideon, please, you have to believe me... I was having nightmares... I was dreaming about the accident..."

"I don't believe you," he said, his voice flat. He pulled out a phone and showed me a screen.

It was a live feed of Daisys hospital room.

"See this button?" he whispered. "One tap, and the oxygen flow to her ventilator stops. Don't hate me, Izzy. I just can't have you remembering him anymore. I have to be the only one left."

"No... no, please!" I screamed. I couldn't lose her. I couldn't be the reason she died.

As his thumb hovered over the screen, something in me snapped. The pain in my body vanished, replaced by a surge of pure, adrenaline-fueled desperation. I threw myself at him.