Chapter 1
The sound of scissors cutting through my mother's hair was the moment my wedding died.
SNIP!
A thick section of her beautiful gray-black hair fell onto the white tablecloth.
My mother screamed.
Vanessa laughed.
And my husband-to-be stood three feet away, watching as if someone had just spilled a glass of champagne.
I froze in the middle of the ballroom.
Hundreds of guests surrounded us. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above white roses and gold decorations. A string quartet had been playing only seconds earlier.
Now the music had stopped.
Everyone was staring.
My name is Nia Carter.
I was twenty-nine years old, and I had spent eighteen months planning what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
I wore a long-sleeved white lace wedding gown that my mother had helped me choose.
My hair fell in straight black waves down my back.
My engagement ring glittered beneath the ballroom lights.
And the woman who had just attacked my mother was my fiancé's younger sister.
Vanessa Brooks.
Twenty-eight years old.
Beautiful, spoiled, and cruel enough to enjoy humiliating someone in front of strangers.
"Oops!" Vanessa said, holding up the silver scissors.
A second lock of my mother's hair slid from her fingers.
"Looks like somebody needed a haircut!"
Several guests gasped.
My mother, Evelyn Carter, sat trembling in her burgundy formal dress.
Her hands covered the side of her head.
Tears streamed down her face.
The remaining hair around her ear hung unevenly, exposing a patch where Vanessa had cut far too close.
I rushed forward.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER?"
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"Relax. It was a joke."
"A joke?"
I looked at the scissors.
Then at the hair scattered across the table.
Then at my mother, who could barely breathe through her tears.
"Mom?"
She shook her head.
"Nia, please."
Her voice broke.
"Don't let them ruin your wedding."
That sentence nearly destroyed me.
Even after being humiliated, she was worried about me.
My mother had raised me alone after my father died.
She had worked two jobs for years, often coming home too exhausted to eat.
When I was seven, she sold her gold bracelet so I could attend a school trip.
When I was sixteen, she took extra shifts to pay for my college entrance exams.
When I became engaged, she spent months helping me choose flowers, invitations, and decorations.
And now she was sitting in a room full of people, crying because someone had cut off her hair for entertainment.
I turned toward Marcus Brooks.
My fiancé.
Thirty-two.
Tall, athletic, handsome, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo.
The man who had promised to protect my heart.
"Marcus, say something."
He sighed.
"Nia, don't make a scene."
I stared at him.
"Your sister just cut my mother's hair."
He shrugged.
"Hair grows back."
For a moment, the entire room disappeared.
I heard those three words echoing in my head.
Hair grows back.
He didn't ask whether Evelyn was hurt.
He didn't tell Vanessa to apologize.
He didn't even look concerned.
Instead, he stepped beside his sister.
As if she needed protection from the woman whose mother she had humiliated.
Vanessa smirked.
"See? Marcus understands."
Something inside me went completely still.
For months, I had ignored Vanessa's insults.
The comments about my mother's inexpensive shoes.
The jokes about our family being ordinary.
The way she called my mother a charity case whenever Marcus wasn't listening.
Every time I complained, Marcus told me I was too sensitive.
I had believed him.
Not anymore.
I looked at the silver scissors resting on the table.
Then I reached for them.
Vanessa stopped smiling.
"Nia?"
I picked them up.
Marcus stepped forward.
"Don't."
I looked directly at him.
"Why?"
His face tightened.
"Put those down."
I smiled without warmth.
"Hair grows back."
Vanessa's eyes widened.
She turned to move away.
I caught one long section of her silky black hair.
Then I cut it.
SNIP!
The severed lock fell beside my mother's hair.
Vanessa screamed.
"YOU CRAZY BITCH!"
Marcus rushed toward her.
"What is WRONG with you?"
I placed the scissors on the table.
"Interesting."
He stared at me.
"You attacked my sister!"
I looked toward Evelyn.
"You laughed when it was my mother."
Marcus opened his mouth.
No words came out.
Vanessa clutched her uneven hair, sobbing loudly.
I felt no triumph.
Only a terrible clarity.
I had just made a choice I would have to answer for.
But Marcus had made his own choice long before I picked up those scissors.
And his had told me everything I needed to know about our future.
I slowly removed my engagement ring.
The diamond Marcus had given me two years earlier.
The ring I had worn while imagining children, anniversaries, and growing old together.
I placed it beside the two severed locks of hair.
A gasp swept through the ballroom.
"Nia," Marcus whispered.
I looked at him.
"There won't be a wedding."
His face changed.
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
He stepped toward me.
"We can talk privately."
I shook my head.
"No."
Vanessa pointed at me.
"Marcus, don't let her embarrass our family!"
I almost laughed.
Their family.
As though mine had never mattered.
I reached for my mother's hand.
She was still trembling.
"Mom, we're leaving."
Marcus grabbed my wrist.
"Nia, stop."
I pulled away.
"Don't touch me."
He stared at my face.
Then his gaze dropped toward my bouquet.
The bouquet contained white roses, pale orchids, and a sealed ivory envelope tied with a narrow ribbon.
I had placed it there that morning.
Not because I expected Vanessa to attack my mother.
But because, three days before the wedding, I had discovered something about Marcus that made me question whether I should marry him at all.
I had been trying to find the courage to confront him.
Now I no longer needed courage.
I needed the truth.
Marcus saw the envelope.
His expression changed instantly.
"Nia."
His voice became quiet.
"What's that?"
I looked into his eyes.
"And the hair isn't what you should be worried about."
I pulled the envelope free.
His face went pale.
Vanessa stopped crying.
For the first time all afternoon, the two of them looked frightened.
Marcus whispered, "Where did you get that?"
I held the envelope against my chest.
Then I asked the question that had haunted me for three sleepless nights.
"Marcus, why did you forge my mother's signature on a loan agreement?"
May you like
The ballroom fell silent.
And I knew the wedding had been only the beginning of the nightmare.
