Bridal Veil Short Hair

The day I went to try on my wedding suit, a stranger stormed into the VIP fitting room and drove a knife into my gut. "Sleeping with my woman, and you dare wear a suit this expensive?" He ripped my shirt into ribbons with a wild grin and threw sulfuric acid straight at me. The knife was buried deep in my abdomen. Pain ripped through me as I collapsed. He yanked my hair, forcing my head up. "Susan Lefebvre is my wife. What the hell are you? Just some filthy side piece hiding in the shadows!" Blood dripped from my fingertips as the truth sank in. The fiancée I'd loved for seven years had been cheating on me all along. "What are you staring at?" He sneered. "Even if I kill you, no one can touch me. My wife runs this city!" Watching that arrogant face twist in triumph, I took out my phone with a trembling, blood-soaked hand and dialed my sister. "Allison," I said, my voice cold and calm. "Come pick me up at the bridal salon. And tell the Lefebvres that the engagement is off."

My sister pushes her daughter at a murderer so she can win the prize in a photography competition. After this, she even uses the incident and my name to extort the victim to pay an astronomical sum as compensation. The victim stabs me to death in a fit of rage. When my son, who is brought up by me, learns the truth, he doesn't seek justice for me. Instead, he scatters my ashes in the sea and says, "My mother told me that I would've been the happiest child in the world if not for you taking the wrong child home back then." When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to when my daughter was five years old. I have a month until her death. This time, I'm going to protect my child to the best of my abilities. I won't bother about an ingrate anymore.

When my parents call to tell me they are taking me to my childhood friend, Oliver Holland's house to meet his blind date, he is still asleep beside me. I think they are joking and whisper, "Oliver, they said they've found you someone to date." He gives a lazy hum and pulls me into his arms. "Gerry, help me pick out something to wear later. And fix my hair, too." When I freeze, Oliver opens his eyes and lets out a short, mocking laugh. "What's wrong with you? We're just sleeping together. You don't actually think I'm going to marry you, do you?"

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I made a special trip to the salon to have my hair done. While settling the bill, I noticed an extra charge on my account. It was a coloring and perm package. Judging by the price, it was a package meant for waist-length hair. Mine had been cropped short for seven or eight years. I called my husband, Jason Moore. "Have you used my salon membership card recently?" There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before he laughed lightly, "Oh, I lent it to Quincy a few days ago." Quincy Hahn was his business partner, a fine arts student with long hair. She treasured her natural curls more than anything. She would never be willing to dye or perm it. More importantly, her elder sister was a major shareholder of this salon. Why would she ever need to use my card? I said nothing more and ended the call. Then, I headed straight to a location displayed on my phone. In the cafe, a long-haired lady was nestled in Jason's arms. Her freshly permed curls were soft and bouncy, framing her blushed face with certain demureness. Jason had always complained that my short hair made me look rough and manly. I lacked gentleness and charm. It seemed this long-haired lady suited his tastes perfectly.

Seven years ago, my mafia husband, Sergio Wexler, had me committed to a psychiatric ward. On the day I was released, I changed my name, cut my hair short, and vanished like a ghost. Seven years later, we meet again at the grave of my brother, Luca Lorusso. The bouquet in his hand falls with a soft thud. Sergio clenches his fists tightly, barely holding back emotions that threaten to break through his usual calm. "Janella, why the short hair? I almost didn't recognize you. Where have you been all these years? After that fire at the psych ward, I pulled every string I had, but I never got any leads on you. I've been looking for you for seven years. I even thought you were… dead." When I stay silent, he rubs his red-rimmed eyes. "You're avoiding me, aren't you? Do you still hate me for having you locked up? Believe me, I had no choice." I let out a bitter laugh. Sergio killed Luca to become the Don. He slept with Luca's woman and locked me in that dark, windowless "special ward", nearly erasing me from existence. And now, here he is at Luca's grave, playing the victim. To me, any love and hate I had for Sergio died long ago in that tiny, suffocating ward. Now, he's just a stranger to me.

Today, I am going to marry the man I love, Damon Mark Olson. We didn’t have it easy. I am the veritable Cinderella and he was my handsome prince. People frowned on our relationship. Even his mother never failed to show her dislike for me at every opportunity. But Damon fought hard for me. At the church, I heard the first notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D and started my bridal walk. Damon looked dapper in his suit but he looked distracted, and his hair looked kind of mussed. Tenderness swept over me. When I reached his side, he took my hand. An electric current coursed through our connected skin. Damon looked startled, and I almost laughed, The priest gave us his blessings. And to Damon, he said, “You may now kiss your bride.” I held my breath as Damon very gently lifted my veil. Our eyes connected, and I saw a swirling mass of emotions in his gaze before his head dipped and gave me a kiss that jarred me. He kissed expertly, too expertly, that my eyes flew to his face. And that was when realization sank in. I was not kissing Damon Mark Olson. I was kissing someone who looked exactly like him.

Alara's life shattered the day she was sold by the man she believed was her father, thrust into the powerful grasp of Ezra—the feared Alpha King with eyes of amber and a commanding presence that claimed her very soul. Haunted by betrayal and the mysteries surrounding her true lineage, Alara must navigate the treacherous waters of a bond she never asked for, yet cannot deny. Ezra, burdened by the loss of his first mate and years of bitter solitude, sees in Alara not just a mate but his destined redemption. Determined to protect his kingdom from the rising dark threats, he must confront his own heart as it dangerously entwines with the fierce and defiant woman brought into his life by fate. Together, they face intrigue, ancient prophecies, and hidden enemies who would see their burgeoning love destroyed before it can bloom. As the line between captor and lover blurs, Ezra and Alara must decide whether trust forged in the fires of adversity can heal their wounded hearts or if the shadows of the past will tear them apart forever. In a world where passion, power, and destiny collide, can love truly conquer all—even when it's sold to the Alpha King?

When a child mysteriously disappears from a small town and even his mother seems indifferent, it’s time for the new sheriff to step in. Meet Chris Baker, the new sheriff of the quiet Adirondack town of Clifton Heights. As one inexplicable case after another forces him to confront the townsfolk in The Skylark Diner, it’s the furtive Gavin Patchett that hands Chris a collection of not-so-fictional short stories that tumbles him into a world of monsters, ageless demons, and vengeful citizens. As Chris reads through the stories the veil starts to lift, and he soon questions what is real and what’s not, and whether he really wants to know. Nothing will ever be the same again. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

On the day I tried on my wedding dress, a stranger burst into the VIP fitting room and slashed me with a knife. She tore my dress to shreds, her face twisted with rage. "A gold-digger like you doesn't deserve a dress this expensive!" The blade, soaked in sulfuric acid, pierced my abdomen, and I collapsed in agony. She grabbed my hair and slapped me, snarling, "Clarence promised to marry me! You're nothing but a homewrecker!" Blood stained my gown as the truth hit me. My boyfriend of seven years had been cheating on me. "Keep staring, huh? My man runs this city. I could kill you, and no one would touch me!" she taunted, smug as hell. With bloodied hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother. "Chris, come get me from the bridal shop. And tell the Thompsons the engagement is off."

On the day of my wedding gown fitting, a stranger burst into the VIP suite and stabbed me with a knife. “You think you deserve a dress this expensive after stealing someone else’s man?” She tore at the delicate fabric of my skirt. Then, with a twisted smile, she hurled a bottle of acid at me. The blade was buried in my lower abdomen. The pain drove me to my knees. She grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. “Gerald’s my husband! What are you? You’re nothing but a mistress who can’t even be seen with him in public!” Blood dripped down my fingers. That was when it finally sank in. The man I had been with for seven years had been keeping another woman by his side. “What’re you staring at? Even if I kill you, with my husband’s influence, no one will dare touch me!” Staring at her smug face, I pulled out my phone with hands slicked in blood and called my brother. “Matt…” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Come pick me up at the bridal shop. And please inform the Hoover family that the engagement is off.”