Chapter 2
I stumbled toward the chapel, still wearing that horrible makeup. I shoved through the heavy chapel doors. Every head turned my way. A hundred-plus wedding guests sat there, faces shifting from excitement to pure shock.
Whispers started up everywhere:
"What's wrong with her?"
"Look at her face..."
"Is she sick?"
I didn't care. Just kept walking straight to the altar. Caleb stood next to the minister in his black tux, looking perfect as always. But when he saw me? His whole expression changed.
Not the worry I expected. Something else entirely—pain, maybe guilt. And yeah, definitely fear.
"Caleb!" I was still catching my breath. "My house is on fire! They said you already headed out with your crew?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Something clicked in his eyes.
"Your makeup..." He kept his voice low. "What the hell happened?"
"Someone sabotaged me!" I grabbed his arm. "The makeup artist wasn't Ella. She did this on purpose. And now my house is burning? Come on, that's not coincidence."
The church buzz got louder. The minister cleared his throat.
"Maybe we should—" the minister started.
"No!" I spun around to face everyone. "Something's really wrong here. Someone's after me and I don't know why."
"Vera." Caleb's voice had this edge to it. "Let's handle the fire first."
"Exactly!" I nodded hard. "We need to get there now. All of Dad's stuff is in that house. His photos, letters, everything."
Caleb's face went weird again. Like he was fighting with himself.
"Wait." Something wasn't adding up. "If you already took your crew there, why are you still here?"
Silence. Everyone staring at us, waiting.
"Caleb?" My voice cracked. "Why?"
He opened his mouth, closed it. Shook his head. "There are things you don't understand."
That's when the doors opened again.
This elegant woman walked in. She'd ditched the makeup artist clothes for a navy dress. Hair perfect now, carrying some kind of folder.
The fake makeup artist.
"You!" I pointed right at her. "You're the one who screwed up my makeup!"
Everyone looked her way, but she ignored me completely. Stared straight at Caleb.
"How long you gonna keep lying to her, Caleb?"
More whispers. Caleb went pale.
"Thea, don't—"
"Thea?" The name hit me. "You're Thea Morrison?"
Caleb's adoptive sister. I'd seen old photos but never met her. He always said she lived out of state.
"That's right. Adoptive daughter of David and Sarah Morrison." She walked closer, voice carrying through the whole church. "The same David and Sarah your father murdered."
Dead silence.
My brain just... stopped working.
"What? That's insane. Dad died in an accident. Construction site fall."
"Accident?" Thea actually laughed. "He killed himself afterward. Couldn't live with what he'd done."
She pulled papers from the folder. "Police report. Richard Sinclair owed serious gambling money. His creditors gave him a choice—pay up or torch the Morrison house for insurance fraud."
My legs went shaky. "No way. Dad wouldn't—"
"My parents burned alive in their beds!" Thea's voice echoed off the walls.
People gasped. I heard bits of conversation:
"Jesus, is that true?"
"The Morrisons died like that?"
"She's the killer's daughter?"
"Stop!" I yelled. "You're lying! My father wasn't a murderer!"
Thea kept going. "Afterward he jumped off a building. Guilt ate him alive. Left you all alone." Her voice shook. "And I lost the only family I ever had."
I turned to Caleb, desperate. "Tell me she's making this up."
He dropped his head. That simple gesture broke something inside me.
"You knew." The words barely came out. "You always knew."
"Tell her everything, Caleb," Thea said. "Tell her about finding that house near hers three years ago. Total coincidence, right?"
The whole church waited. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might explode.
"Caleb?" I whispered. "Is it true?"
He finally looked up. Pure agony in his eyes. "I can explain—"
"When did you find out who I was?"
Long pause. Then he destroyed my world: "Three years ago."
Everything tilted sideways. Three years ago. Right when we started dating.
"So we were never..." My voice got smaller. "It was all fake?"
"Not all of it! At first, maybe, but then—"
"At first?" Each word felt like a blade. "At first what? Revenge?"
Thea smiled coldly. "Tell her why you really moved to our street, Caleb."
He squeezed his eyes shut. "I wanted... I wanted you to pay for what your father did."
Game over.
Three years of kisses. Three years of "I love you." Three years of planning our future together. All a lie. All part of some sick revenge fantasy.
I yanked off my engagement ring. The diamond caught the colored light from the stained glass windows—the same light I'd thought I saw in his eyes all this time.
"Vera, wait—" Caleb reached for me.
I hurled the ring at his chest. It bounced off and hit the floor with this tiny, final sound.
"Every single time you said you loved me..." My voice sounded dead, even to me. "What were you really thinking? About your dead parents? About making me suffer for something I never even knew about?"
"Please, just let me—"
"Let you what?" I stepped back. "Explain three years of playing house with the enemy? Explain how you got some random girl to fall for her own personal nightmare?"
I faced the crowd. They all looked at me differently now. Not like a bride. Like something dangerous they needed to watch.
"Everyone," I called out, "the wedding's off. Forever."
I grabbed my dress and headed for the door.
"Vera!" Caleb shouted. "You can't just walk away! Give me five minutes!"
I stopped without turning around.
"Five minutes?" My laugh echoed through the church. "Caleb, you had three years. You explained plenty."
I pushed the doors open. Sunlight hit my face like a slap.
"Vera!" Thea this time.
I looked back at the woman who'd just torched my entire life.
"Hope you got what you wanted." My voice was flat. "Enjoy it."
I walked out. Left behind what should've been the best day of my life. Walked toward... hell, I had no idea what.
Behind me, Caleb and Thea started arguing. Guests buzzing with shock. None of it mattered anymore.
I was Richard Sinclair's daughter. The arsonist's kid. And I'd just lost everything I thought was real.