Not Your Rehearsal Bride

I was standing at the altar, my hand poised to receive the ring from my maid of honor, when everything fractured.

Before we could even exchange vows, Elliot snatched the microphone from the officiant's hand.

His voice boomed through the high-ceilinged cathedral, stripped of all the warmth I’d known for three years.

"Alright," he said, his tone casual, almost bored. "You've had your little rehearsal as the bride. Now, be a good girl and go back to being my mistress."

I froze, looking up at him in utter bewilderment. My mind couldn't register what was happening.