I stared at my reflection, fussing with my veil for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was meant to be perfect, the happiest day of my life. I had no idea what chaos was waiting.
The ceremony went smoothly. Thane looked stunning in his tux, and I felt like a queen in my dress. We said our vows, kissed, and just like that, we were married.
At the reception, we cut the cake together, feeding each other small bites and giggling as frosting smeared on our faces. Everything felt like a fairy tale come true. Until Joren, our videographer, tapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey, Peyton, can we talk for a moment?” he asked, his face oddly serious. I nodded, following him to a quiet corner of the reception hall. “What’s going on?”
Joren fiddled with his camera.
“There’s something you need to see.”
He turned the camera to show me the small screen. As I watched, my jaw dropped. There, plain as day, was my new father-in-law, Valthor, sneaking up to the gift table.
He glanced around nervously, grabbed a box, and quickly left the room. “Is he stealing our gifts?” I gasped. Joren shrugged.
“I’m not sure what to make of it. I thought you should know.”
I thanked Joren, my mind spinning. What was happening?
Why would Valthor take our gifts? I needed answers. Scanning the room, I spotted Valthor by the bar, sipping a drink and chatting with some relatives.
“Excuse me,” I said, approaching the group. “Valthor, can I steal you for a minute? It’s important.”
Valthor looked surprised but nodded.
“Of course, Peyton. What’s up?”
I led him to a quiet spot. “Valthor, I just saw something strange on the wedding video.”
His face paled slightly.
“Oh? What did you see?”
“I saw you taking one of our gifts and leaving with it. What’s going on?”
Valthor glanced around nervously, then leaned in close.
“Peyton, I can explain. It’s not what it looks like.”
“Then what is it? Because it sure looks like you’re stealing from us.”
He sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead.
“I wasn’t stealing, I promise. I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what?”
Valthor’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“From Sylvara. She’s up to something cruel.”
I frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Earlier today, I overheard her talking to herself in the dressing room.
She was tipsy, muttering about some scheme.”
“What scheme?”
“She packed that gift box with silverware she’d rubbed with orange peels. She knows you’re allergic.”
I gasped, feeling dizzy. My orange allergy wasn’t deadly, but it caused a nasty rash that couldn’t be exposed to sunlight.
If I’d touched that silverware…
“But why would she do that?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it. Valthor’s expression was grim. “She wanted to ruin your honeymoon.
She figured a rash would force you to cancel. And since the tickets are non-refundable—”
“She and you would get to go instead,” I finished, feeling sick. “Exactly.
I couldn’t let that happen. I was just trying to take the silverware out, clean it, and put it back before anyone noticed.”
I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself. “Valthor, I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m so sorry, Peyton.
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