A Bride's Unwritten Clause

My fiancé, Brady Montgomery, insisted his first love, Selene Dawson, attend our wedding at the Hamptons estate.

Just as the officiant was about to announce the exchange of rings and a wave of celebratory applause was about to erupt, Brady suddenly raised his hand, signaling the band to stop.

He stepped down from the altar, strode through the stunned guests, and went straight to a shadowy corner, taking the hand of a woman in a white gown—Selene—and leading her to the center of the dance floor.

In front of everyone, he pulled her into a slow dance and whispered, "I need to give you the first dance that should have been yours."

Her eyes brimming with tears, Selene threw herself into Brady's arms before turning to his parents. "Dad, Mom… even though I can't be your daughter-in-law, please let me be selfish and call you that one last time."

Then, she turned, rose onto her tiptoes, and passionately kissed Brady in full view of everyone.

The guests gasped, their whispers filling the air as they waited for me—the nobody set to marry into a dynasty—to completely fall apart.

However, I just smiled and walked forward. I took off my own veil and placed it gently on Selene's head.

"Selene, you can drop the pitiful victim act. Since you love the man who just betrayed me at our own wedding so much, I'm giving him to you."

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1

At my words, Selene Dawson promptly “fainted” right there in Brady Montgomery's arms.

Even as she collapsed, her arms stayed locked around his neck, refusing to let go.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he swept her into his arms and bolted from the banquet hall, shouting for someone to get the car and take them to the emergency room.

Before he left, he shot me a look of pure venom. "Kylie, you are a malicious, heartless woman! Selene has a congenital heart condition! Couldn't you have let her have one dance? Did you have to ruin everything?"

I had been with Brady for ten years. It was only after I became pregnant with his child that his snobbish mother, Beatrice Montgomery, reluctantly agreed to hold this wedding for the sake of the family's reputation.

Until ten minutes ago, I had naively believed that I could finally have a happy family of my own.

But now, that fantasy was shattered.

But instead of the comfort I desperately needed, my own mother shot me a glare that chilled me to the bone. She rushed over, threw her evening bag at me, and hissed, "What are you doing? Are you crazy! Go get Brady back! You have to get him back, even if you have to kneel and beg!"

My father stood to the side, looking at me as if I were a failed investment. He ripped off the boutonnière I had personally pinned to his suit and stomped on it fiercely.

Beatrice, who had always disdained me, loomed over me now, her face a thunderous mask as she berated me for my lack of decorum and nonexistent breeding.

She gripped my arm tightly, and in a voice laced with venom that only we could hear, she hissed, "If you want to marry into the Montgomery family, you have to learn to be docile, obedient, and invisible. It was just one dance. What's the big deal? If you can't learn to swallow your pride, this door will never open for someone like you."

Staring at Beatrice's harsh, twisted face, it finally hit me: loving someone with all my heart didn't guarantee they would love me back.

After ten years with Brady, I no longer wanted to be the matriarch of the Montgomery family.

Before I could even speak, Beatrice sneered and signaled for the bodyguards to "escort" me from the estate.

"If you can't get Brady to change his mind, don't bother coming back."

The heavy iron gate slammed shut behind me with a deafening clang, sealing me off from the world inside.

Ahead of me, a torrential downpour began; behind me, the lavish party continued, the clinking of glasses and cheerful chatter audible even through the storm.

Even though I was wearing a six-figure custom wedding gown, I felt like the punchline to a joke everyone else was in on.

Before my tears could fall, the side gate creaked open. My parents scurried toward me.

For a moment, a sliver of hope fluttered in my chest. I lowered my voice and called out softly, just like when I was a child, "Mom."

But there was no hug waiting for me.

"Don't call me Mom! I told you not to throw a tantrum. It's normal for men to put on a show. But look what you've done! You've scared Brady away."

"You've also ruined the wedding! How are your father and I supposed to hold our heads up in front of all those important people?"

Her cold voice was more piercing than the freezing rain.

"Go!" my mom hissed. "Do what Beatrice said. Get to that hospital and apologize to Brady and Selene. If he dumps you, who’s going to raise that baby? We can't afford the disgrace!"

Without another word, my parents turned and hurried back inside the estate, and the gate slammed shut once more with a final, metallic groan.

I stood there, and the tears finally fell.

This was the easternmost tip of Long Island, an area of mansions but sparsely populated. I tried to call for a ride, but my phone signal was intermittent in the storm. I had no choice but to lift the hem of my wedding dress and walk into the tempest.

The torrential rain soaked my wedding dress, the pristine white gown turning a dirty gray as it was stained with mud—a perfect symbol for ten wasted years of my youth.

I trudged on, the weight of my rain-soaked dress growing heavier with every step.