Chapter 2 - THE MOMENT HE SAW HIS WIFE
Christian stopped walking.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
The smile disappeared from his face so quickly that several guests near the aisle noticed.
Giselle, standing beneath the flower-covered arch, turned toward him with a confused laugh.
“What happened?”
Christian didn't answer.
He was staring directly at me.
I didn't move.
I didn't wave.
I didn't cry.
I simply stood among two hundred wedding guests wearing the navy dress I had chosen that morning and watched my husband realize, perhaps for the first time, that I was not a photograph, a signature, or a woman waiting at home.
I was standing ten yards away.
Watching.
His right hand lowered slightly.
The green-faced watch caught the afternoon sunlight.
My gift.
Our anniversary.
Three years ago, I had placed that watch in his palm after telling him that time was the one thing neither of us could ever get back.
He had kissed me and promised he'd wear it whenever he missed me.
Apparently, he had decided to wear it to his second wedding instead.
Giselle followed his gaze.
Her expression changed.
First confusion.
Then recognition.
Then horror.
“Camille?”
The entire front row turned.
Someone whispered my name.
Another person said, “Isn't that...?”
Christian finally moved.
One step.
Then another.
Giselle grabbed his arm.
“Christian, what are you doing?”
He pulled his arm free.
“Nothing.”
His voice was barely audible.
I smiled politely.
“Congratulations.”
The silence became almost unbearable.
Giselle stared at me.
“You're here.”
“You invited me.”
“I didn't think you would actually come.”
“I noticed.”
Christian reached me.
He stopped close enough that I could smell the cologne I had bought him in Paris.
His eyes moved over my face.
“You're supposed to be overseas.”
“I came home.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
His throat moved.
“You didn't tell me.”
I tilted my head.
“You didn't tell me you were getting married.”
A murmur moved through the crowd.
Giselle's face had gone white.
She looked at Christian.
“Who is she?”
Nobody answered.
Then one of our former classmates whispered the truth.
“That's Camille.”
Giselle stared at me.
“Camille who?”
I looked directly at her.
“Camille Dupont.”
Her lips parted.
Christian closed his eyes.
That was the moment everyone understood.
The groom wasn't simply caught in an awkward situation.
The woman standing beside the altar wasn't the first Mrs. Dupont.
I was.
Giselle turned toward Christian.
“Tell me she's lying.”
He said nothing.
“Christian.”
Still nothing.
She slapped him.
The sound echoed across the estate.
Nobody moved.
Christian touched his cheek.
Giselle's eyes filled with tears.
“You're married?”
I answered for him.
“For three years.”
Her face crumpled.
“You told me your divorce was finalized.”
“I never said that,” Christian whispered.
“You said she was gone.”
“She was deployed.”
“You said she didn't live here.”
“She doesn't always.”
“You said—”
“I know what I said.”
Giselle stared at him.
Then she looked at me.
And something unexpected happened.
She didn't look triumphant anymore.
She looked betrayed.
That didn't make me forgive her.
But it reminded me that villains were rarely born wearing black coats and announcing their intentions.
Sometimes they wore white dresses.
Sometimes they believed the lie because believing it was easier than questioning the man they loved.
Giselle wiped her face.
“Did you love me?”
Christian looked at her.
“I cared about you.”
Her expression broke.
“That isn't what I asked.”
He couldn't answer.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then she whispered,
“Why did you bring me to her house?”
Christian's eyes snapped toward her.
“Giselle.”
“You said it was yours.”
“It wasn't that simple.”
“You said the bedroom was yours.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
The guests began whispering again.
Giselle looked at me.
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
She blinked.
“You do?”
“I believe you didn't know everything.”
Christian stepped between us.
“Camille, please.”
I looked at him.
“Please what?”
“Can we talk privately?”
I glanced toward the altar.
“Today?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“You seem busy.”
A few guests lowered their eyes.
Nobody laughed.
This wasn't funny anymore.
Christian leaned closer.
“You don't understand what happened.”
“Then explain.”
He looked toward the crowd.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because this isn't the place.”
I smiled faintly.
“You brought another woman to marry you in public. You don't get to demand privacy now.”
His face tightened.
Then Giselle suddenly looked at his wrist.
The watch.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Wait.”
She looked at me.
“You gave him that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Her face changed.
Christian said nothing.
Giselle stepped closer.
“He told me that watch was his father's.”
I stared at Christian.
He had lied about the watch too.
Not because it mattered.
Because he had been building a different version of himself for her.
A version without me.
A version where he was free.
A version where my house became his house and my life became something he could rewrite.
Then a wedding coordinator hurried toward us.
“Mr. Dupont, there's an issue.”
Christian turned.
“What?”
She looked nervous.
“Your marriage license paperwork.”
He frowned.
“What about it?”
“The county clerk called.”
She handed him a folder.
“There's already a valid marriage record under your name.”
Christian went completely still.
The coordinator swallowed.
“She said there was no way to issue another license unless the first marriage had been legally dissolved.”
Giselle stared at him.
“You knew?”
Christian looked at me.
I watched him open the folder.
Then he looked at the final page.
His face changed.
Not guilt.
Fear.
Because beneath the marriage record was something neither of us expected.
A certified copy of our marriage certificate.
And handwritten across the top was a note from the clerk:
DO NOT ACCEPT ANY FURTHER FILINGS WITHOUT DIRECT REVIEW.
Christian looked up at me.
“Camille...”
I said nothing.
Then my phone vibrated.
One message.
From General Raymond Carver.
Don't leave the estate yet. Someone accessed your military travel records this morning.
My stomach tightened.
This was no longer just about Christian.
Someone had been watching me.
May you like
And whoever it was had known exactly when I would come home.
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