The Wedding Veil Book Novels & Stories

her stylist announces. “Never seen a bride this beautiful,” I gush, taking a picture of her. “Thank you, baby, thank you Niphme for taking your time to make me look this good.” “You are welcome, ma’am; we will be on our way,” she says, placing a veil over Mother’s head before she and her team walk out. “Mother, please can you do me a favor?” “Sure. What is it?” “Can you give Chiara your flowers when it is time to throw the bouquet?”

I bring my hand up to my neck to touch the spot, feeling the bump as I tried to recollect. Clove pink and discarded daisies on the floor. Shattered shards of mirror crunching underfoot as I took flight. Or thought about running before he caught me by the arm. I glance at my hand. The ring is gone. He's taken it, and I couldn't be more thankful. My terrible wedding day. My forced wedding. It never happened. My prayers worked. I steel myself up to a seated position, rubbing my prickly nose. The musty dampness... it's not only in this room. I trace the smell to the veil somehow still on my head. It survived that man's cruelty.

“Elle, our plans are finally going smoothly. I had Jason take care of that dumbass Anna and by now, I’m sure they must be getting married. You’ll have your happily ever after with Caspian Riordan, okay?” She nodded. “By the way, why are you covering your face with a veil in front of me? You know you can take it off, right? Besides, you haven’t said a word since I came in.” Feigning Elle’s voice, Anna replied. “Mother, I read somewhere that showing your face to anyone less than ten minutes before the wedding would cause bad luck. I don’t want anything to go wrong.” “Aww, you’re scared. No wonder your voice seems a little bit different. Don’t worry, nothing is going to go wrong only if you lis

Even the household staff acted with a cruelty they would never dare show Evelyn. As she stood there, trapped in her own grief, her eyes swam with unshed tears. She had no choice but to play her part, standing silently as the priest pronounced Julian and Evelyn husband and wife. The weight of her helplessness was crushing. Some might wonder why she would serve as maid of honor in the wedding of two people who had hurt her so deeply. But it wasn’t her decision. They had placed her here, front and center, to remind her that she was powerless—that she existed merely to be mocked and humiliated. “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Julian Stone,” the priest declared, and the guests erupted into app

With a heart drumming with joy, I reached out to the file and opened it. I retrieved a white paper inside and stared at it , my gaze scanning on it, grasping the content. The smile on my face faltered, replaced with a deep frown. “Divorce agreement?" I looked up, my brow knotted as confusion flashed in my eyes. Maverick nodded gently and said. “Just like you see. Sign it. I'm quitting the marriage." He simply said, his words hanging in the air. It was as if everything around me froze.

The Castle of the Veil, also known as the Veil Warden Academy, is a beautiful place, which is completely opposite to everything we’ve been taught our entire lives. It’s styled and decorated in the Renaissance era, and the courtyards are beautifully kept sitting areas. The entire vibe of the place is live and let live but respect each other. What in the feck is wrong with that? Why all the stories? Nothing I was taught from kindergarten to graduation is true. Why did they feel they needed to play all the cloak and dagger games? I am so confused but mostly, I’m angry as hell about losing my mate.

Then I set the phone down and got up. The sun was starting to move across the kitchen wall, catching on the edge of my discarded wedding veil on the counter. I’d brought it home last week after the final fitting. I picked it up now, ran my fingers over the delicate lace. A few days ago, I’d imagined walking down the aisle wearing it. Now it felt like someone else’s dream. Someone I used to be. In the middle of that thought, the TV in the living room flickered on. I hadn’t touched the remote. It was the news feed that auto-played sometimes when my cable restarted.

I smiled and asked, "Howard, you're looking a bit pale. Too busy with the wedding to remember your medicine?" He coughed nervously. "Yes, I..." I signaled the officiant to pause and led the groom to a quiet room. Just then, my phone buzzed on the table. A bunch of unread texts from Joyce Charlton. [Bet you didn't know your groom's a phony, huh? Surprise! Howard and I are watching your wedding live. ] There was a photo too: Howard had his arms around her, his chin resting on her head. [Forgot to mention, it was my idea. This wedding's just a game to cheer me up.]

Which was strange, considering the man I knew spent most conversations looking like he was evaluating people for weaknesses. I crossed the room slowly and sat down at the desk. The chair creaked softly under my weight. The manuscript was exactly where I left it. Neatly stacked. Almost like it had been waiting. I picked up the pages. For a moment, I just held them. This was probably a bad idea. Reading a dead woman’s autobiography about the man I married felt like crossing some kind of invisible boundary. But curiosity has always been stronger than my common sense. I turned the page.

He quietly ordered Oscar to take Eunice backstage and have her presentable again. For the sake of both Powell Group and himself, this wedding had to go on. However, Eunice could no longer bear the judgmental looks and whispers from the guests. She broke down completely and fled the wedding venue. All that remained of the wedding was a grim-faced groom. And so, this farce billed as the "Wedding of the Century" finally came to an end with the bride running away. It wasn't until the afternoon of the day after the wedding that Eric finally found Eunice huddled beside a pile of garbage, muttering to herself over and over, "I'm not the bride."