Call Off The Wedding!

The day before my wedding, I discovered my fiancé's close female friend had turned the church into a bloody haunted house.

When I confronted my fiancé, Yves Laurent, he blamed me for making a fuss.

After I called the wedding off, he suddenly regretted it.

-

I never expected that Yves Laurent—who always seemed so honest and steady—could harbor such a grim, macabre taste.

Our wedding was tomorrow. The whole city's respectable families would be in attendance; if they saw a horror-show themed ceremony, they would mock me without mercy.

I had to stop it, but Yves's friend, Nina Cullen, refused outright and sneered at me.

I called Yves. His voice on the other end was dismissive. "Stop making a scene. You're being paranoid."

My expression hardened; I raised my voice. "I'm not making a scene. This isn't a wedding set; this is something else entirely—"

He cut me off and hung up.

I stood there, stunned. Was this the patient, emotionally stable man I thought I knew?

Nina's lips curved. "See? There's no point arguing. He already put me in charge of the decorations."

Her tone was smug and venomous. "Your father still has some value to his parents. That's the only reason they'd accepted you as a daughter-in-law. Otherwise, Yves wouldn't marry you. You're not his type."

She scanned me with contempt. "Pretty face, yes, but that's all you've got. When you get old, we'll see if Yves still wants you."

Her hostility surprised me; why did she despise me so much? Before I could parse it, she answered my question.

"I did this on purpose," she said. "Because I love Yves. I can't stand the thought of you marrying him."

She shoved me with deliberate anger. "Move aside. I'm not done. If you want to marry him, you'll have to live with it."

I braced myself; my fists clenched, nearly striking her.

Seeing her domineering attitude, I truly wanted to fight. But my superiors at work had warned me repeatedly to control my temper—to show restraint and avoid physical confrontation whenever possible.

I forced a deep breath and spoke coolly. "Whatever your relationship with Yves is, the wedding is mine to plan. Please leave."

Nina ignored me and instead barked orders at the crew. "Yes, put the dead rat here. That'll set the mood. The curse will then take effect."

The church looked like a scene from a nightmare; my anger flared.

Walking away seemed tempting, but if I canceled the wedding outright, I would lose face—and my parents would tear me apart. For their sake, I kept my temper and softened my voice.

"Nina, that's enough. Stop it now."

She rolled her eyes and answered loudly, "Not enough. I want everyone to remember this wedding."

She was sweet on the surface, rotten beneath. I had no patience for her theatrics. I stepped forward, grabbed her arm, and pulled hard. "Please leave."

She wrenched away and glared at me with venom. "Let go, you bitch!"

I didn't let go.

Suddenly, she produced a dagger and slashed at my arm. I couldn't dodge in time; the blade carved a line across my skin.

Pain shot through me. I stared at her in disbelief.

"You… stabbed me?"

Her face went black, a cruel grin spreading across it.

"I'll beat you up too!" she snarled, then barked orders at the motionless bodyguards standing nearby. "Hit her! If anything happens, I'll take the blame."

At her command, the guards lunged forward, hauling me up and slapping my face repeatedly. Each strike clouded my head until the world spun.