Vanessa stood in the bathroom doorway like a bride carved from ice.
Her white gown shimmered beneath the gold hallway lights, every pearl and lace detail perfect, every curl pinned exactly where it belonged. But her face—her face had lost all softness. The smile she had practiced for photographers was gone.
Only fear remained.
And beneath it, something colder.
Lily shrank behind Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan rose slowly, placing himself between the child and the woman he had been moments away from marrying.
“Vanessa,” he said, his voice low, “why is this little girl calling you Mom?”
