The Ruined Bride Novels & Stories

For now, I needed my rest and I was going to get it. When I slept, I dreamed of a time not too far away from then. There was sunset and there was rainbow and there were clouds of white strewn across the blue sky. There was piano and there was music and somewhere down on the green grass, a bride stood with her lacy white dress, her face full of joy and gladness. And then she walked down the aisle to meet her beau who stood with his back to her till she touched his shoulder and he turned around and beamed at her. Suddenly, it started raining and the bride’s face became wet, ruining her makeup. Her hair. Thunder rolled across the now blackening sky. And then a gunshot rang in the air.

My young mistress's betrothed was dying, and she ordered me to marry him in her place to turn his luck. People believed the joy of a wedding could drive out sickness and misfortune, and that a dying man might be pulled back from the grave by it. "The royal physicians all say Lord Blackwell won't live past seven days! Why should I marry him only to be buried at his side? "He's never even seen me. You can marry him instead. "You're nothing but a lowborn maid. Being allowed to marry the regent is the luck of a lifetime." Before I could react, the glowing words appeared before my eyes again. [Celeste is such an idiot. What does she mean, he won't live past seven days? Lord Blackwell has the

There were no grand halls, no media teams, and barely any guests, just a handful of close acquaintances who knew about my accident. Adam tapped the second file. A short, silent video clip began to play in crisp high-definition. At first, Professor Mary and Mr. Stanley squinted at the screen, purely bewildered by the dark footage of a modest chapel. "Is that... a wedding?" Mr. Stanley asked, tilting his head with a light chuckle, still completely unaware of what he was looking at. "Who are those two?" As the clip progressed, the camera zoomed in. The young bride on screen wore a plain white gown, her long lace veil draped heavily to hide the raw, fresh burns on the left side of her face.

The stain wasn’t huge but it was visible, brown against the white fabric. Her veil was on the floor. She picked it up and tried to fix it back in her hair. It wouldn’t stay. The pins had come loose. Vanessa gave up and left it hanging crooked. She walked to the door and opened it. The hallway was empty now. Kira was gone, Adrian also was gone. Just Vanessa in her ruined dress with her ruined makeup standing alone. “Can we please get the bride?” The voice came through the speakers again. More insistent this time.

The clock was ticking with twelve minutes left before the ceremony was supposed to begin. The wedding car that my bride, Teagan, and I sat in stopped at the curb. The church doors stood open a hundred yards away, ready for our arrival. My parents and relatives were gathered outside with the officiant, photographer, wedding coordinator, and the rest of the bridal party. The wedding coordinator’s voice came through my earpiece. “Parker, you’re clear to head in. We’re starting at 9 sharp.” I was about to tell the driver to go when the door of the groomsmen’s SUV behind us swung open. “Hold up. I forgot my tie.” That was enough to halt the entire procession. Teagan unbuckled her

We finally made it to the County Clerk's Office with only fifteen minutes to spare before they stopped processing marriage licenses. Our friends were already gathered at the bottom of the steps, urging us to go inside. "Come on, get in there! After everything you two have been through, you finally made it in time for the eighth try!" My best friend, Ryan Chapman, had red-rimmed eyes as he reached over and straightened my tie for me. I was just about to walk inside when Chester Snyder, Melissa's childhood friend, suddenly spoke from the back seat. "Wait. My lucky bracelet broke. I need to fix it first." I stopped. Melissa stopped, too. "Okay. No rush." Chester lowered his head and be

The old mill bridge was a ruin. It spanned a dark, narrow river at the edge of Silverpine's land, half fallen into the water, with moss on its rails and mist curling over the stones. A single lantern hung from a post. Beside it, wrapped in a heavy gray coat, stood a thin figure with her arms crossed. Vivienne Cross looked like a ghost. Her red dress was gone. Her glossy hair was dull and tied back carelessly. There were dark circles under her eyes, and a long yellow bruise along her jaw. She turned as Wren approached, and for a moment, neither woman spoke.

The flowers were perfect. That was the only thing going right. I had been awake since four in the morning making sure that the roses with just enough blush to look romantic without being loud, greenery that didn't overpower, ribbon tied the way Vivienne had shown me three times on a YouTube video she'd sent at midnight. Everything was perfect. The bride just wasn't here. Her text came at 6:47 a.m. "I'm sorry, Aria. I can't do it. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me."

The way he looked at her like she hung the moon, while she barely looked at him at all. And standing there now, in her new husband's mansion, it was hard not to wonder if she had ever loved him in the first place. “He destroyed my life. He ruined my future, so you think I’m going to forgive him for that?” she blurted. I froze. The words hit me so hard I almost thought I had heard her wrong. “How?” I asked slowly, arching an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“You’re imagining things. Plenty of families were ruined back then. Mine included. It’s not some big mystery.” “Ruined by who?” he pressed, eyes narrowing. “You’ve never mentioned that before. Tell me the full story, Elena. If we’re doing this marriage, even a fake one, I need to know what I’m stepping into.” I took a sip of wine to buy time. “My father lost his business in a bad deal. He trusted the wrong people. The stress killed him. End of story. Happy now?” “Not even close,” Damien replied, voice low. “Because I was blamed for a lot of those collapses. Including the Hart family’s. Does that name mean anything more to you than just headlines?”