Chapter 10 Wrong Woman

• GENESIS
• My heart skipped a beat as he stiffened at my touch, a sudden fear gripping me that something was amiss or about to go wrong.
• I'd seen too many romance movies to entertain such thoughts, but the fear of being left at the altar crept into my mind. I didn't want to be the girl abandoned on her wedding day. The mere idea of Jordan Chase calling off the wedding minutes before tying the knot sent a shiver down my spine. It would be a headline-grabbing scandal, and the thought of the humiliation and societal judgment was unbearable. I liked him a lot, and the prospect of such a public rejection was daunting.
• He stared at me for what seemed like hours with an unreadable expression in his eyes, the feeling in my guts told me something was wrong and you know how it is, such feelings just never lie.
• JORDAN CHASE
• There I stood, nervous, tense, and excited. I was excited to see her, I was happy to see her, but the wait was driving me crazy.
• I kept the best face I could for the cameras. I smiled when someone said something funny, but that was it. The nervousness was killing me, and my hands were becoming sweaty.
• My mom kept smiling at me, and my dad, who sat close to her, kept a neutral face and said no word to me even after coming to my wedding pretty late.
• The song rose up, and my nervousness increased when I realized she was about to come in. Seeing her from afar, my heart raced. Her gown fit her perfectly, and she was beautiful. She loved my present; she realized what I had done, and I knew because she wasn't focused on me but her environment. She would walk and pause a few times to have a better view of what was around. I was happy she was happy; I gave her the wedding of her dreams after all. But the closer she came, the more anxious I became.
• Then I noticed her curves, and that got me uneasy. It brought back the feeling I had in my guts. Samantha wasn't curvy, though I wanted to believe that she might have had surgery. But I knew her and knew how she felt about stuff like that. It made me panic and more nervous. From the little distance, I watched her closely, my eyes glued on her. Then I noticed the rose flower she carried. Samantha would have never picked up a rose flower, even if it was a gift to her. She hated roses; she loved peonies instead.
• "What is going on?" I found myself asking.
• Her steps, her steps were too different. Samantha walked like a boss, her strides were overly confident, and you could see the arrogance she carried as her hips swayed. But suddenly, she was walking gracefully. Too gracefully. Her steps were confident, of course, and humble, but I felt like I was seeing a whole new person.
• Her height was another thing that caught my attention. Samantha was tall. If she wore the heels that I believed she wore, she should be taller, but she was a few inches shorter.
• My stomach tightened in a knot, and I quickly stole a glance at my mom. She smiled at me warmly, but it didn't ease my uneasiness.
• I turned back to my bride. She was closer now. I looked at her face, but her veil obscured much of her features, including her eyes. As she stood in front of me, I knew something was wrong. Her hands were gently placed in mine, and I stiffened. It felt different.
• I turned back to my mom. She was no longer smiling; she looked apprehensive. She mumbled something to my dad, and he immediately walked towards me.
• "Excuse me, just a minute," he muttered to the priest and urged me to follow.
• I stared at him for a while, then back at my bride. I squeezed her hands a little and followed my dad to a corner while everyone watched.
• "What's going on with you?" he asked immediately.
• "What makes you think something is going on?" I asked in return.
• "Jordan, is something wrong?" my mom soon stood beside us with worried looks on her face. I stared at her for a while, attempting to read her, to believe she wouldn't have done what my heart was telling me she did.
• "Is there a problem?" she asked again.
• "She looks different, Mom. She looks so different from Samantha," I said, and she scoffed nervously.
• "You almost killed me there," she said and laughed, then breathed in as a sign of relief.
• "That's what I thought when I first saw her. You know women. She made changes, she has the money. Now can you get married already?" she ordered, and my dad took my hands immediately, leading me back to the stage without giving me a chance to argue or ponder on what she said.
• But I took what she said. I didn't have the time to think because of the overwhelming presence around me. My mom was a lot of things and would do a lot of things. I believed that she wouldn't deceive me the way I thought she would. So I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and focused on getting married. I was getting married to the woman of my dreams after all; I had to be happy and make it count.
• The priest immediately started with a short sermon while the crowd took their seats. I stood facing my bride, still very skeptical about everything.
• I kept looking at her veil to get a glimpse of what she looked like. I had been wanting to see Samantha for a long time, and getting a veil that wasn't see-through made it difficult. My eyes roamed her face, her skin, her hair as I tried my best to keep my composure and marry the woman of my dreams, but I kept getting uneasy. We said our vows and moved to the segment of the ring exchange.
• She received her ring first, and I offered her my left hand so she could slide it on.
• "Let this ring..." she paused, locking eyes with me. I could sense her gaze on me.
• "Let this ring be a symbol of my promises to you," she began, and the knot in my stomach tightened. Her voice sounded different—familiar, yet foreign. It was the same voice from our phone conversations, yet when I thought of Samantha, that wasn’t the voice I could remember.
• "And a reminder of my devotion to you. I am honored to call you my husband," she concluded, slipping the ring onto my finger as the congregation erupted in applause. I took my ring and clasped her hands in mine, a flurry of thoughts racing through my mind, exacerbated by my unease. I had expected to feel elated, to feel joy, but it seemed unreachable.
• "With this ring," I started.
• "I... thee wed, and with it," I paused, reassuring myself that this was what I wanted, what I had chosen. I convinced myself that the overwhelming emotions were just the pressure of the moment.
• "And with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my heart, mind, and hands," I said, sliding the ring onto her finger as the congregation applauded. We were declared husband and wife, and I saw my mom beaming with excitement.
• That was it. I was officially married.
• The moment I had been anticipating, the moment that was supposed to fulfill me. It was time to unveil my bride, so we could share our first kiss.
• As time dragged on, I grew increasingly excited to see her face. I wasn't alone in my anticipation; cameras were poised to capture the moment when the world would meet the wife of Jordan Chase, a mystery until now. Moving closer to her, my heart pounded in my chest. I took her hands in mine and kissed the back of them. I didn't know why I did it, I just did.
• Then, I let go and took a deep breath. The audience fell silent, and the glass house felt empty. I grasped the hem of her veil, my heart racing even faster. With another deep breath, I lifted the veil from her face.
• My heart stopped, and the congregation erupted in screams as camera flashes filled the air. Bright blue eyes stared back at me. I was expecting hazel eyes, not blue.
• The dread in my chest was replaced by betrayal, the knot in my stomach by anger.
• She wasn't Samantha. She wasn't the woman I wanted. She wasn't my wife. She was an imposter.
• I glared at her, fists clenched, struggling to contain my rage. I was a public figure; I couldn't lash out, couldn't reclaim my ring, couldn't scream or scold or demand answers. But I glared at her when she expected me to kiss her.
• Then, I remembered my mother's words. She orchestrated everything, a perfect plan. She deceived me, betrayed my trust.
• How could she bring a different girl? This wasn't just a contract; it was my marriage, my wedding. She toyed with me, manipulated everything, indifferent to my happiness.
• My gaze shifted to where she sat and I saw her looking at me with a smile. A victorious smile. She had won, and I had lost. I glared at her for a moment before turning back to the imposter before me. All I wanted was to grip her arms tightly and demand answers, but I couldn't.
• GENESIS
• When he lifted my veil, my smile vanished. His demeanor changed in an instant; he regarded me with a starkly different expression. Instead of the expected smile and kiss, he stood before me, glaring. His jaw clenched, his shoulders tense, and he seemed like a different person entirely. There was a chilling coldness in his eyes that sent shivers down my spine.
• He glanced at the crowd, then back at me, and I flinched under the intensity of his gaze, which seemed even more piercing than before.
• "What is going on?" my mind nagged anxiously as I met his stare. We remained locked in this silent standoff for what felt like an eternity. His gaze made me nervous and scared all at once. The congregation, oblivious to the tension, eagerly awaited the kiss, unaware of the icy aura emanating from him, which I keenly felt.
• He continued to glare at me, the wicked vibe and darkness danced in his gaze. Suddenly, without a word, he turned towards the glass house's entrance and strode away.
• The crowd gasped in disbelief, my heart pounding as confusion clouded my thoughts. He didn't stop, didn't look back—he simply walked away, leaving me alone at the altar.
• Tears burned the back of my eyes; I couldn't fathom why he was leaving, why he was abandoning me.
• Whatever the reason, he deserted me, his wife. He left me standing there, utterly alone.
• He just left.