The Wedding My Fiancé Planned While Secretly Building Another Family

PART 3 (FULL STORY)
“Christian knows she’s still alive.”

I looked at Gabriel.

“What does that mean?”

“It means this message was sent tonight.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

“Who is she?”

Gabriel hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

He turned the phone toward himself and read the message again.

There was no name, only a number.

But underneath it was a photograph.

The picture showed Christian standing outside a hotel with Sabrina.

And between them stood a little boy with dark hair.

Leo.

I stared at his face.

Four years old.

The same child Christian had just admitted was his son.

“What are we going to do?” Gabriel asked.

I looked at the bandages covering my face.

“We let him think his plan worked.”

Gabriel understood immediately.

By morning, Christian came back to the hospital.

I kept my eyes closed.

He sat beside me and held my hand.

His voice sounded soft enough to fool anyone who didn’t know him.

“I’m here, Genevieve.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Gabriel stood near the window.

Christian glanced at him.

“Did you take care of everything?”

“Yes.”

“The man?”

“Gone.”

Christian nodded.

“And the wedding?”

“Still on.”

That answer seemed to satisfy him.

He leaned closer to my bed.

“You’re going to need time to recover,” he whispered.

“I’ll postpone the public reception.”

“We can tell everyone the ceremony will remain private.”

Then he kissed my forehead.

The same forehead he had kissed after every miscarriage.

The same man who had cried beside me while I believed we had lost our children together.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I remained still.

When Christian left, Gabriel locked the door.

“You’re sure?”

“No,” I said.

“I’m terrified.”

He sat beside me.

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because if Christian thinks I know everything, he’ll disappear.”

“And if he thinks I know nothing, he’ll keep talking.”

Gabriel nodded.

That became our plan.

I would remain the injured fiancée.

He would remain the loyal manager.

Christian would continue preparing for a wedding he believed he had already won.

But there was one thing we needed before we could expose him.

Proof.

Not rumors.

Not suspicions.

Proof that could survive lawyers, publicists, police, and the millions of people who worshiped Christian Prescott.

Gabriel had access to Christian’s business accounts, travel records, contracts, and private messages.

He began copying everything.

The money transfers came first.

Payments had been routed through three companies.

All three had connections to Sabrina’s family.

Then we found the hotel records.

Christian had been meeting Sabrina regularly for years.

Not occasionally.

Regularly.

The dates lined up with the periods when I had been pregnant.

My hands shook as I looked at the records.

One appointment was dated two days before my first miscarriage.

Another was three weeks before the second.

The third was six days before the last.

Gabriel noticed my face.

“You don’t have to keep looking.”

“Yes, I do.”

I needed to know how long I had been living inside a lie.

Then we found Dr. Lawson.

The doctor had received payments from one of the same companies.

The descriptions were vague.

Consultation.

Treatment.

Private medical services.

But the amounts were enormous.

Gabriel looked at me.

“This is enough to make investigators interested.”

“Not enough to prove what he did to me.”

He opened another folder.

Inside were copies of prescriptions.

My prescriptions.

The medications Christian had insisted I take after each miscarriage.

I remembered him standing in the kitchen with a glass of water.

I remembered him saying, “The doctor wants you to take these.”

I remembered trusting him.

Gabriel compared the dates.

“These doses were changed.”

“By whom?”

“Dr. Lawson.”

I closed my eyes.

The room became very quiet.

Not because I was shocked.

Because I finally understood.

Christian hadn’t simply betrayed me.

He had built a system around me.

He had controlled my money.

My medical care.

My public image.

Even the story everyone would hear after the attack.

And he had been doing it while calling himself my fiancé.

Two days later, Christian announced that the wedding would still happen.

The news spread everywhere.

Fans sent messages.

Television programs discussed my condition.

People called Christian brave for standing by his injured fiancée.

I watched one interview from the hospital.

Christian looked devastated.

“I only want Genevieve to know that I love her,” he told the cameras.

Gabriel switched off the television.

“You okay?”

“No.”

That was the first honest answer I had given anyone in days.

The next morning, something unexpected happened.

A nurse entered my room carrying a small envelope.

“This was left at the front desk.”

There was no return address.

Inside was a single photograph.

Sabrina.

Leo.

And another woman I didn’t recognize.

On the back someone had written:

Ask Christian who she is.

I looked at Gabriel.

“Did you send this?”

“No.”

He examined the photograph.

Then he went pale.

“I know her.”

“Who?”

“She used to work for Christian.”

“What happened to her?”

“She disappeared three years ago.”

That night, Gabriel found her name in an old contract.

Marissa Cole.

Former personal assistant.

She had resigned suddenly.

Christian had told everyone she was dealing with family problems.

But the contract showed something else.

Marissa had signed a confidentiality agreement after receiving a large payment.

Gabriel stared at the document.

“She knew about Sabrina.”

“Maybe.”

“She may know about Leo.”

“Then find her.”

He did.

It took less than twelve hours.

Marissa agreed to meet us in a small coffee shop outside Columbus.

She wore a baseball cap and kept looking over her shoulder.

When she saw me, her eyes filled with tears.

“I knew you were alive.”

I sat across from her.

“How?”

“I saw the man leave after the attack.”

She lowered her voice.

“Christian told him exactly what to do.”

Gabriel leaned forward.

“Did you record anything?”

Marissa nodded.

“I was afraid of him.”

She placed a small phone on the table.

“I started recording three years ago.”

There were dozens of files.

Christian discussing Sabrina.

Christian discussing Leo.

Christian discussing money.

And then we found the one file that mattered.

Christian was speaking with Dr. Lawson.

“I need her unable to have children.”

Dr. Lawson asked, “And if she finds out?”

“She won’t.”

The recording continued.

Then Christian mentioned the three miscarriages.

“She already believes her body is the problem.”

I stopped breathing.

Gabriel reached across the table.

“You don’t have to listen.”

I listened anyway.

Because I needed to hear him say it.

Christian had never been comforting me.

He had been managing me.

When the recording ended, Marissa looked at me.

“What will you do?”

I thought about the wedding.

“The same thing Christian planned to do.”

“What?”

“Show up.”

The wedding morning arrived.

Christian had arranged everything carefully.

The private ceremony.

The guest list.

The press statement.

The story about his injured fiancée and his unwavering devotion.

He believed the woman walking down the aisle would be too frightened and dependent to challenge him.

He was wrong.

I entered the ceremony wearing a high-necked dress that covered my bandages.

Christian stood at the front.

Sabrina wasn’t there.

Neither was Leo.

Not yet.

Christian smiled when he saw me.

For one second, he looked relieved.

Then I reached the altar.

He took my hand.

“You look beautiful.”

I looked directly into his eyes.

“So do you.”

He squeezed my fingers.

The officiant began.

Then the doors opened.

Gabriel walked in.

Behind him were Marissa, two investigators, and a detective.

Christian’s smile disappeared.

“What is this?”

I turned toward the guests.

“I think everyone deserves to hear the truth before this wedding continues.”

Christian grabbed my wrist.

“Genevieve.”

I pulled my hand away.

“You should have been more careful about who you trusted.”

The first recording played.

His own voice filled the room.

I watched the guests turn toward him.

Then came the recording about my pregnancies.

Then the payments to Dr. Lawson.

Then the conversation about the acid attack.

Christian tried to stop it.

“This is fabricated.”

Marissa stepped forward.

“I recorded those conversations myself.”

Christian looked at Gabriel.

“You?”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

The detective approached.

“Christian Prescott, you’re being detained for questioning.”

Christian’s face changed.

For the first time, he looked afraid.

Then the side door opened.

Sabrina walked in carrying Leo’s hand.

Christian stared at them.

“Sabrina, why are you here?”

She looked at him.

“I heard what happened.”

Leo looked up at Christian.

“Daddy?”

The word echoed through the room.

No one needed an explanation.

Christian’s secret family was standing beside him.

The man who had spent years building an image of perfect devotion suddenly had nothing left to hide.

Sabrina started crying.

“You promised me everything.”

Christian looked at her.

“I can explain.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

That single word ended whatever remained between them.

The wedding was over.

Not because I had canceled it.

Because there had never been a real marriage waiting for me at that altar.

There had only been a business arrangement disguised as love.

The investigation lasted months.

Dr. Lawson eventually agreed to cooperate.

The medical records were examined by independent specialists.

The financial records were traced.

The man who attacked me was found before he could leave the country.

Christian was charged for his role in arranging the attack and for the other crimes uncovered during the investigation.

The legal process took time.

Nothing about it was simple.

There were lawyers.

Hearings.

Statements.

Questions I didn’t want to answer.

There were also people who insisted Christian couldn’t possibly have done what the recordings proved.

Some fans blamed me.

Some said I had ruined his career.

I stopped reading those comments.

I had spent five years trying to protect a man who had never protected me.

I wasn’t going to spend another five defending myself to strangers.

My face took months to heal.

There were scars.

Some were permanent.

But the doctors were able to do far more than Christian had wanted me to believe.

I eventually looked into a mirror without immediately looking away.

The woman staring back at me was different.

Not ruined.

Different.

One afternoon, Gabriel came to visit.

He placed an envelope on the table.

“What is it?”

“The final report.”

I didn’t open it.

“I don’t need it today.”

He smiled.

“Fair enough.”

We sat quietly.

For the first time in years, silence didn’t feel dangerous.

I eventually returned to Indianapolis.

I found a smaller apartment.

I changed my phone number.

I stopped attending events where people expected me to smile beside someone else.

I started rebuilding my life without asking what would look good beside Christian Prescott’s name.

A year later, I passed the dress shop where everything had begun.

I stopped outside the window.

There were wedding dresses inside.

For a moment, I remembered the woman I had been before the attack.

She had believed love meant trusting someone with every vulnerable part of herself.

I didn’t hate her.

She had simply trusted the wrong person.

I touched the faint scar along my cheek.

Then I kept walking.

I never got the wedding I had planned.

I never got the children I once believed I would have.

But I got something Christian had spent years trying to take from me.

The right to decide what happened to my own life.

That evening, I placed the old wedding ring in a small box.

I didn’t throw it away.

I didn’t need to.

I simply closed the lid, pushed the box into the back of a drawer, and turned off the light.

For the first time in five years, I went to sleep without waiting for Christian to tell me what tomorrow was supposed to look like.