Love After the Betrayal

The scent of lilies and hairspray usually meant joy, but for me, Abigail Turner, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, it was a suffocating prelude to disaster.

I stood in my bridal gown, gazing into an ornate mirror, my heart a storm.

Then Brandon Hayes, my fiancé, walked in, his eyes cold and distant.

He took his mother' s diamond necklace, an heirloom he' d given me, straight from my neck.

"I need that back," he said, his voice flat.

Before I could process the shock, my cousin, Seraphina Vance, appeared, clutching an overnight bag, her eyes red-rimmed.