Pregnant and Betrayed Again

I stared at my reflection in the ornate mirror of the Manhattan venue's bridal suite, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. My makeup artist, Tina, was adding the final touches to my face while Madison and my other bridesmaids fluttered around the room in a champagne-fueled whirlwind of tulle and excitement.

"You look absolutely stunning, Claire," Madison whispered, squeezing my shoulders gently. "Nathan won't know what hit him."

I smiled, my stomach fluttering with a cocktail of nerves and joy. After five years together, Nathan Sterling and I were finally getting married. I'd spent those years learning chess strategies to help him win tournaments, nursing him through market crashes that threatened his finance career, and loving him with every fiber of my being. Today was supposed to be the culmination of all that devotion—my happily ever after.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. The door cracked open, and Nathan's head peeked in.

"Is it safe to come in?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Nathan!" Madison gasped theatrically. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!"

"I'll close my eyes," he promised with a boyish grin that still made my heart skip. He stepped in with his hand dramatically covering his eyes, his tuxedo impeccably fitted to his athletic frame.

I laughed despite the superstition. "It's fine, Maddie. My makeup's done anyway."

Nathan dropped his hand, and our eyes met in the mirror. For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered across his face before his smile returned.

"Just wanted to make sure everything's perfect for my perfect bride," he said, stepping behind me. His fingers gently adjusted my veil, his touch sending familiar electricity through me. "Oh, and to let you know we've got the livestream set up for your aunt in Chicago and my cousins who couldn't make it."

"That's thoughtful," I said, reaching up to touch his hand. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of my head, careful not to disturb my elaborately pinned hair. "Twenty minutes, and you'll be Mrs. Sterling."

After he left, Tina made a few final touches while my bridesmaids gathered their bouquets. When they stepped away to fix their own makeup, I picked up my phone to check the time. A notification caught my eye—the wedding livestream had started early for testing.

Curious, I tapped it, expecting to see an empty chapel or perhaps the guests beginning to file in. Instead, the camera showed a wide shot of the venue, including the large windows of the hotel room that overlooked the ceremony space. My blood froze in my veins.

There, clearly visible in the window, was a silhouette I would recognize anywhere—Victoria Walsh. Nathan's ex-girlfriend. The woman he'd dated for ten years before me. The woman he'd claimed was completely out of his life.

What was she doing in what appeared to be our hotel room on our wedding day?

My hands trembled as I zoomed in, praying I was mistaken. But there was no error—the distinctive profile, the