Chapter 1: The Fall at the Altar
“Get away from her, Andre! Your mother needs to learn that she can’t control everything!””
My bride screamed those words while my mother lay sprawled across the marble floor of our wedding reception, her champagne glass shattered beside her and blood trickling from a cut on her forehead.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then I dropped to my knees beside the woman who had raised me alone, while my new wife stood above us, adjusting her diamond bracelet as if nothing had happened.
I had married Simone Carter less than two hours earlier.
And I was about to discover that the woman I had promised to love forever had already begun destroying my family.
“Mom? Mom, look at me!”” I shouted, cradling Loretta Bennett’s head in my hands.
My mother blinked slowly. Her silver earrings trembled as she tried to focus on my face.
“I'm all right, baby,” she whispered.
“You’re bleeding. Don’t move.””
“I said I’m all right.””
But she wasn't.
Her pale blue dress was torn at the knee. One hand gripped my wrist so tightly that her fingernails dug into my skin. The other hovered over her chest, searching for something that wasn't there.
Her ring.
The antique gold ring my grandmother had given her on her wedding day. The ring my mother had promised to pass down to me one day, so that I could give it to the woman I loved.
The ring that had disappeared from her finger minutes before she fell.
“Where’s your ring?”” I asked.
My mother looked at her empty hand.
Her expression changed.
Not confusion.
Fear.
Across the room, Simone laughed nervously and waved toward the musicians.
“Everyone, please calm down. Loretta has been feeling dizzy all evening. She probably stood up too quickly.””
“She was standing perfectly still,” I snapped.
Simone's smile tightened.
“Andre, sweetheart, don't start embarrassing us in front of everyone.””
I stared at her.
My mother had just fallen hard enough to split her forehead, and Simone was worried about embarrassment.
“Call an ambulance!”” I shouted.
My cousin Marcus was already pulling out his phone.
“It's happening now,” he said.
“Stay with her.””
A wedding guest hurried forward with a napkin. Another woman knelt beside my mother, asking whether she felt sick.
Simone stepped closer.
“Give her some room,” she announced, taking charge with the confidence of someone who believed every room belonged to her.
“She has a history of making scenes when she doesn't get her way.””
My head snapped toward her.
“What did you just say?””
She lifted both hands.
“I'm worried about her, Andre. That's all.””
My mother made a faint sound.
I leaned closer.
“Mom?””
Her lips barely moved.
“She pushed me.””
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?””
“Simone,” my mother whispered.
“She pushed me.””
Simone heard her.
I watched the color drain from my wife's face before she replaced it with an expression of wounded innocence.
“Oh, for heaven's sake!”” she exclaimed.
“I tried to help her when she stumbled. She grabbed my dress, and we both nearly went down.””
“That isn't what she said.””
“Your mother has never liked me.””
“My mother welcomed you into this family.””
“After making me feel like an outsider for two years!””
Several guests shifted uncomfortably.
My mother closed her eyes.
I wanted to stand up. I wanted to demand an explanation. I wanted to grab Simone by the shoulders and force her to tell the truth.
Instead, I remembered what my father had taught me before he died.
When someone is hurt, help them first. Fight afterward.
So I took my mother's hand and waited for the paramedics.
While we waited, I noticed something strange.
Simone kept looking at my mother's empty ring finger.
Not at the blood on her forehead.
Not at her trembling hands.
At the finger.
Every few seconds, Simone's gaze flicked toward the little silver handbag she had left on a nearby chair.
Then she looked away.
I followed her eyes.
“Simone,” I said quietly.
“Where's my mother's ring?””
Her head jerked toward me.
“What?””
“The gold ring she was wearing. Where is it?””
“How should I know?””
“You were standing right beside her.””
“So were half the guests!””
She snatched up her handbag.
The movement was quick. Too quick.
I stepped between her and the chair.
“Put that down.””
Her mouth fell open.
“Excuse me?””
“Put the bag down, Simone.””
For a moment, I thought she might slap me.
Instead, she gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh.
“You're accusing your wife of stealing jewelry at our own wedding?””
“I'm asking where the ring went.””
“And I'm telling you that I don't know!””
Marcus approached from behind me.
“The ambulance is here,” he said, then glanced between Simone and me.
“What's going on?””
“Nothing,” Simone replied immediately.
“Andre is upset and looking for someone to blame.””
My mother opened her eyes.
“Andre.””
I turned.
She was staring at Simone with an expression I had never seen before.
“Don't let her take me home.””
The words were barely audible.
I knelt beside her again.
“I'm taking you to the hospital, Mom. You're not going anywhere with anyone you don't trust.””
Simone's face hardened.
“That's ridiculous. I'm his wife. I'm family.””
My mother began to cry.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just two tears sliding into the wrinkles beside her nose.
“Please,” she whispered.
“You don't know what she's done.””
Before I could ask another question, the paramedics arrived and lifted her onto a stretcher.
As they wheeled her toward the exit, I followed, still holding her hand.
Simone hurried after us in her wedding gown.
“Andre, you're not seriously leaving me here!””
I turned to look at her.
“You can come to the hospital if you want.””
She glanced toward the ballroom, where two hundred guests were watching us.
“I'm not leaving my own reception in the middle of dinner.””
I stared at her.
My mother was being rushed to the emergency room, and my wife was worried about the wedding reception.
“Then stay,” I said.
Her eyes widened.
“Don't you dare speak to me like that.””
I climbed into the ambulance.
The doors closed.
Through the small rear window, I watched Simone stand beneath the crystal chandeliers, her white dress glowing beneath the lights.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't frightened.
She was staring at her handbag.
And when the ambulance pulled away, I saw her reach inside it.
She withdrew something small and golden.
Even through the glass, I recognized the shape.
My grandmother's ring.
Simone closed her fingers around it and slipped it into her pocket.
My blood turned cold.
The woman I had married had stolen from my mother.
But as the ambulance sped toward the hospital, I still believed it was only a ring.
May you like
I had no idea that the ring was the smallest thing Simone had taken from my family.
Or that my mother was carrying a secret that could destroy everything I thought I knew about my marriage.
