Husband's Choice: Sister Over Wife

The September sun cast a golden glow across the marble steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral as I stood in my wedding dress, a vision in white lace and pearls. Curtis had insisted on the grandest venue in New York City—nothing but the best for his bride. Photographers circled like elegant vultures, capturing every perfect moment of what the society pages would surely call the wedding of the year.

"You look breathtaking," Victoria whispered, adjusting my veil. "Curtis won't be able to take his eyes off you."

I smiled, my heart swelling with a happiness I'd fought so hard to claim. Against my mother's wishes. Against the Kennedy name and all it stood for.

"He already can't," I replied, catching Curtis's gaze from across the reception hall. Even surrounded by New York's elite, he only had eyes for me.

My mother, Eleanor, stood rigidly by the champagne fountain, her disapproval radiating through her practiced society smile. The pearl necklace at her throat gleamed under the crystal chandeliers—a family heirloom she'd threatened to withhold when I'd first brought Curtis home. A poor boy. A nobody. Beneath the Kennedy name.

"I'll make her the happiest woman in the world," Curtis had promised her after she'd publicly humiliated him at the charity gala last year, pouring champagne on his rented tuxedo. "Watch me."

And he had. Rising from nothing to build the Elliott Corporation, becoming the man my mother couldn't dismiss. Today was our triumph.

I excused myself from Victoria, needing a moment of fresh air before the reception speeches began. The September breeze felt cool against my flushed skin as I stepped toward the entrance. That's when I saw her—Saanvi Clark, Curtis's adopted sister, sitting behind the wheel of a sleek black Mercedes, her face a mask of concentration.

My mother emerged from a side door, phone pressed to her ear, no doubt orchestrating some last-minute detail she found lacking. She didn't see the car. Didn't notice as the engine revved.

Time slowed. I opened my mouth to scream a warning, but before any sound escaped, the Mercedes lurched forward with deliberate speed.

The sickening thud echoed across the parking lot. My mother's body crushed against the stone pillar, the Mercedes's front end crumpled around her. The pearl necklace scattered across the asphalt like drops of milk.

"MOTHER!" The scream tore from my throat as I ran, my wedding dress billowing behind me. My knees hit the pavement beside her broken body, white lace soaking up crimson. Her eyes, still open, found mine—surprised, pained, and somehow accusatory even in death.

"Help! Somebody help us!" I cradled her head, feeling warmth drain away with each passing second. Guests poured from the cathedral, gasps and screams creating a horrific soundtrack to what should have been the happiest day of my life.

Paramedics arrived, their movements efficient but futile. I barely registered their voices declaring what I already knew—she was gone. Through my tears, I saw Curtis, not at my side where he should have been,