Chapter 2: The Wedding and the Fall

Ashleigh

Three weeks. That’s all they gave me to process the rejection before the wedding swallowed everything. Mom kept asking about flowers as if I were her cheerleader. Dad avoided my eyes in the hallways. Ashley smirked through dress fittings and sent Ethan heart emojis while I stared at walls, waiting for something, anything, to end it.

It didn’t.

Wedding day arrived. I sat in the back row of white chairs, wearing the same black dress from Grandma’s funeral, an afterthought among smiling faces. Ethan stood at the front in an expensive suit, looking flawless. Ashley moved down the aisle in white, veil trailing, bouquet gripped tight. The pack sighed and sniffled. I crossed my arms until my nails bit skin.

The officiant spoke of eternal bonds and moon-blessed unions. I tuned out, staring at Ashley’s back. She looked genuinely happy. A tiny part of me wanted to feel glad for her. Most of me wanted to scream.

Their vows came.

Ethan’s voice rang clear: “I promise to protect you, to lead with you, to love you as my Luna, my equal, my everything.”

Ashley’s trembled sweetly: “I promise to stand by you, to support the pack, to be the mate you deserve.”

Deserve. I snorted… loud. Heads turned. I didn’t care.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Ethan lifted the veil. Their lips met. The pack erupted in cheers. Rice flew. I swallowed rising bile and stayed seated. Leaving now would only make it worse.

The reception followed immediately. Tables, music, food. A three-tier cake sat center stage, white frosting, tiny wolf toppers holding hands,. cute, symbolic, probably Ashley’s touch.

I stayed around on the edges, clutching a punch while whispers drifted past: “Poor thing.” “She’ll get over it.” “Should’ve known her place.” I heard them all.

Ashley spotted me and waved. “Ash! Come take a picture with us!”

I stayed put.

She approached anyway, Ethan trailing like a shadow. “Come on, it’s my wedding day. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” My voice came flat.

“Like you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I lied. “I just don’t want to fake a smile while my soul’s still bleeding from the rejection your husband gave me three weeks ago.”

Ethan tensed. “Ashleigh… ”

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

Ashley’s smile slipped. “We’re sisters.”

“Funny how that only matters when it’s convenient.”

She sighed theatrically. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“Am I?” I laughed. “You said yes five seconds after he called me weak. You could’ve refused. But you took the crown. Congrats, Queen Ashley. Enjoy the throne.”

Ethan stepped between us. “Enough. This is our day.”

“Your day,” I echoed. “Right. My bad for existing in it.”

Ashley touched his arm. “Let’s cut the cake. Everyone’s waiting.”

They pulled me forward for family photos anyway. Mom positioned me beside Ashley like we were still kids sharing a room. Flashes popped. Everyone smiled except me.

Then the cutting. Ashley and Ethan held the knife, giggling, feeding each other bites. The pack clapped. My stomach churned harder. Something smelled wrong, sweet, but chemical. No one else noticed.

A plate appeared in my hands: cake slice, white frosting, rose decoration. Ashley beamed. “Here, Ash. You have to try it. It’s amazing.”

“I’m good.”

“Come on,” she coaxed, voice sugary. “Don’t be rude on my wedding day.”

Everyone watched. Waiting. If I refused, I’d be the bitter, rejected loser who couldn’t even fake happiness for her twin.

Fine.

I took a huge bite. Chewed. Swallowed.

Seconds later my throat closed. Stomach seized. I dropped the plate, clutched my middle, turned, and vomited violently onto the grass once, twice. Burning. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

“Ashleigh!” Mom shrieked.

I kept heaving, tears streaming, knees buckling until I hit the ground.

Ethan yelled, “What the hell?”

Ashley screamed, “She poisoned the cake! She tried to poison me!”

I lifted my head, mouth sour with acid. “What?”

She pointed, trembling. “She ate it to cover her tracks! She wanted to hurt me on my wedding day!”

The pack exploded.

“She’s jealous!”

“Always was!”

“Rejected and bitter!”

Dad rushed over. “Ashleigh, what did you do?”

“I didn’t… nothing… I just…”

Ethan pulled Ashley back. “She tried to kill my wife.”

Kill.

I laughed bitterly. “You think I poisoned the cake? Me.. the one who can’t shift, the one you treat like trash? Sure. I baked arsenic into it. Totally my style.”

No one laughed.

Mom knelt, pale. “Baby, did you…”

“No!” I yelled, raw. “I didn’t do anything! She handed me the plate! She told me to eat it!”

Ashley sobbed into Ethan’s chest. “She hates me. I just wanted her to be part of today and she…”

“Shut up!” I tried to stand. Legs failed. Another dry-heave.

Dad looked at me like a stranger. “We need the healer. And then… questions.”

They half-carried me away while people stared, whispered, filmed.

In the healer’s tent I retched again and again. He muttered about fast-acting toxins… wolfsbane derivative, non-lethal, just enough to cause violent illness and frame someone perfectly.

Outside, Ashley cried to anyone listening: “My own sister.” Ethan paced: “She’s unhinged. Rejected mate syndrome.”

Mom held my hair while I retched. “Why would you eat it if you knew?”

“I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I swear.”

She said nothing.

Hours later the heaving eased. The healer said I’d live… barely. Dad entered, face hard. “The pack wants answers.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Evidence says otherwise. You ate it. You got sick. Ashley didn’t.”

“Because she didn’t eat it! She wanted me to!”

“Why would she poison her own cake?”

“To frame me. To make sure everyone hates me more. To push me out.”

He shook his head. “That’s paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” I laughed. “You watched him reject me, propose to her five seconds later, and now this and I’m the paranoid one?”

He left without answering.

They locked me in the guest room that night, guard outside. I curled on the bed in my vomit-stained dress, staring at the ceiling as tears slipped into my hair. Ashley got her happily ever after. I got framed for attempted murder. The pack believed her. Of course they did. I was the weak one, the rejected one. Why wouldn’t I snap?

Part of me still loved them. Still hoped someone would knock and say, “We were wrong.” No one did.

Three days later the “investigation” ended mostly everyone repeating the same story like gospel. The healer confirmed trace wolfsbane in the cake: enough to sicken, not kill. Convenient. Ashley cried on every shoulder. Ethan growled about protecting his Luna. Mom brought soup once, whispered “we’ll sort this,” and left.

Day four they released me with warnings: stay quiet, avoid trouble, don’t speak to the press now that headlines screamed “Rejected Mate Attempts to Poison Future Luna… Pack in Shock.”

Then the law school rejections arrived.

The first hit while I was still picking dried vomit from my hair. University of Crescent Law: regret, recent public reports, integrity of the institution.

I laughed then almost replied with sarcasm. Deleted it. Cried instead.

Four more followed. Same language: recent events, reputation, regret. Even the backup online program declined, attaching a link to mental health resources for late shifters.

I spread the printed letters on my bed like a losing hand. Future lawyer. Denied because my life became a tabloid nightmare.

Mom knocked once. “Dinner?”

“Go away.”

Dad tried the next day, looking older. “We can appeal. Explain.”

“Explain what? That my twin framed me? That everyone believed her? Good luck with the appeal: ‘Please overlook the headlines. My daughter’s innocent but toxic to your brand.’”

“It’ll blow over. And your sister didn’t… ”

“Get out.”

He left.

Ashley never tried. I blocked her.

One morning I hit bottom. No more emails to dread. Just me, ceiling, hollow ache. Law had been my dream since fourteen court shows, case files, mirror arguments about justice. Everyone laughed: “Law’s for men.” “Stick to something easier.” My place, apparently, was under their shoes.

I walked out the back door. No guard. They’d decided I wasn’t dangerous… just pathetic.

I went to the lake, our childhood spot. Ashley always dove first. I hesitated. Always.

The water looked black under the moon. Deep enough.

I stood at the edge, toes in mud. “Rejected. Framed. Blacklisted. Might as well finish what they started.”

One step. Another. Water to knees, waist, chest. Cold shocked my lungs.

I breathed. Closed my eyes. Stepped off the drop-off.

Wind rushed… then nothing. No impact. Arms wrapped around me, strong, impossibly fast. World blurred.

Ground returned. Soft grass. I stumbled, gasped.

A tall figure in a dark coat stood half in shadow… then gone. Vampire speed.

On the grass: folded paper. 

I opened it with shaking hands.

One line:  

*You are worth more than they made you believe. Don’t let them win.*

No name.

Tears smudged the ink. I laughed ridiculous. “Saved by mysterious stationery. Peak pathetic.”

But I clutched it like a lifeline. Sat hard on the bank, knees to chest, letter pressed to my heart.

“Whoever you are,” I whispered, “thanks for the plot twist.”

They wanted me gone. They almost succeeded.

But someone said no.

So maybe I said no too.

I wiped my face. Stood. Legs held.

Looked at the lake one last time.

“Not today.”

I turned my back on it and walked home, letter in my fist.