Chapter 4 - THE ALTAR OF LIESThe Bellmont Grand ballroom looked like something from a royal wedding.
White roses climbed towering gold columns.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead.
Hundreds of candles flickered along the aisle.
A string quartet played softly beneath a magnificent floral arch.
Every chair was occupied.
Business executives.
Politicians.
Socialites.
Friends.
Relatives.
People who'd flown across the country to witness the marriage of Carter Whitmore and Evelyn Bennett.
At the altar, Carter stood in a custom black tuxedo.
His father stood beside him.
Victoria waited near the front row in a pale gold dress.
She was supposed to be my maid of honor.
But at the last minute, I'd informed Mrs. Parker that Victoria would no longer stand beside me.
Victoria had protested.
Loudly.
Until Margaret informed her that the decision was final.
Now she sat beside Carter's mother, Patricia Whitmore, smiling nervously.
At eleven sharp, the music changed.
The ballroom doors opened.
And I stepped inside.
Silence.
Not the ordinary silence that follows a bride's entrance.
This was different.
A woman near the back gasped.
Someone whispered, "Oh, my God."
A camera flashed.
Then another.
I walked beside my father, holding a bouquet of white peonies.
My ivory gown shimmered beneath the chandeliers.
The diamond necklace rested against my collarbone.
And my shaved head was completely uncovered.
Halfway down the aisle, I saw Carter.
His smile vanished.
He stared at me.
Then at the guests.
Then back at me.
His expression hardened.
I kept walking.
My father squeezed my arm.
"Head high, Evie."
I smiled.
"Always."
As we approached the altar, Carter stepped forward.
"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.
I looked directly at him.
"Getting married. Isn't that why we're here?"
"Where's your wig?"
"I decided not to wear it."
His jaw clenched.
"You're humiliating me."
A strange calm settled over me.
"No, Carter."
I leaned closer.
"You did that yourself."
He grabbed my wrist.
Not hard enough for the guests to notice immediately.
But hard enough for me to feel the warning.
"You're going to put that wig on."
My father stepped between us.
"Take your hand off my daughter."
Carter released me.
He forced a smile.
"William, we're just having a little disagreement."
My father didn't smile back.
"I heard you."
For a moment, Carter looked ready to explode.
Then he noticed the guests watching.
He straightened his jacket.
"Fine," he whispered. "We'll discuss this later."
I stepped onto the platform.
The officiant, Reverend Samuel Hayes, looked uncomfortable.
He glanced at my head.
Then at Carter.
Then at the wedding coordinator standing near the side doors.
Mrs. Parker gave him a small nod.
He cleared his throat.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—"
"One moment."
My voice carried through the ballroom.
The quartet fell silent.
Carter turned toward me.
"Evelyn."
I faced the guests.
"Before we begin, I'd like to say something."
Carter's smile tightened.
"Sweetheart, perhaps we should save speeches for the reception."
I looked at him.
"This won't take long."
A murmur moved through the room.
I turned back toward the audience.
"Thank you all for coming."
Several people smiled uncertainly.
"I know some of you are wondering what happened to my hair."
Carter went rigid.
I continued.
"Yesterday, I had long brown hair. This morning, I woke up bald."
A collective gasp swept the ballroom.
"My head was shaved while I slept."
Someone whispered, "That's horrible."
I held up Carter's note.
"And this was left on my pillow."
Carter lunged toward me.
"Evelyn, stop!"
My father immediately moved forward.
Two hotel security guards stepped closer.
I unfolded the paper.
Then read the words aloud.
"Now you look as ridiculous as you really are. Don't embarrass me by crying. Put on your dress, wear a wig, and be downstairs by nine."
The room went silent.
I lowered the note.
"It was signed by Carter."
All eyes turned toward him.
His face flushed.
"This is insane!"
He forced a laugh.
"Everyone, please. My fiancée has a very unusual sense of humor."
I looked at him.
"Then explain the scissors."
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Explain the scratches on my scalp."
"Evelyn—"
"Explain why you told me this morning that shaving my head was a joke."
His father stood.
"Enough!"
Richard Whitmore's voice echoed through the room.
"This is a private family matter."
I turned toward him.
"Then why did your family make my money everyone's business?"
The atmosphere changed.
Carter went pale.
"Evelyn," he whispered, "don't."
I looked at him.
"Don't what?"
"Don't make a mistake you'll regret."
I smiled sadly.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid."
Margaret stepped forward from the front row.
She carried a black folder.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "my name is Margaret Ellis. I'm Miss Bennett's attorney."
Richard Whitmore shot to his feet.
"This is outrageous!"
Margaret ignored him.
"Miss Bennett has authorized me to clarify certain financial arrangements connected to today's ceremony."
Carter moved toward her.
"You have no right—"
"Mr. Whitmore," Margaret interrupted, "you may want to let me finish."
Something in her voice stopped him.
She opened the folder.
"The groom requested a fifteen-million-dollar transfer from Miss Bennett's inheritance into a company controlled by his family."
A ripple of whispers spread through the guests.
Richard's face darkened.
"That was a legitimate investment!"
Margaret nodded.
"Then perhaps you can explain why your company concealed outstanding debts from the prospective investor."
Richard said nothing.
"Or why your proposed agreement contained provisions allowing her investment to secure unrelated corporate liabilities."
Carter grabbed my arm again.
"Shut this down."
I pulled away.
"No."
His voice dropped.
"You have no idea what you're doing."
I stared at him.
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
Margaret continued.
"Miss Bennett has not signed the agreement. She will not be transferring fifteen million dollars today."
The ballroom erupted.
Guests turned toward one another.
Phones appeared.
Richard shouted something at Carter.
Patricia Whitmore covered her face.
Victoria stood abruptly.
"This is disgusting!" she cried. "Evelyn, how could you humiliate him like this?"
I turned toward my former best friend.
"Victoria."
She froze.
"Would you like to tell everyone why Carter paid you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"
The silence that followed was almost physical.
Victoria's mouth fell open.
"What?"
"Should I show them the agreement?"
Her face turned white.
Carter moved toward her.
"Don't answer that."
I looked between them.
"Interesting."
Margaret produced another document.
"This transaction is currently under review by independent investigators."
Richard Whitmore staggered backward.
He gripped the edge of a chair.
Carter's mother began crying.
But Carter wasn't looking at them.
He was looking at me.
With hatred.
Pure, undisguised hatred.
"You stupid little—"
He stopped himself.
Then smiled.
It was the most frightening expression I'd ever seen on his face.
"Fine," he said.
He turned toward the guests.
"Since Evelyn wants the truth, let's give everyone the truth."
He reached inside his tuxedo jacket.
And pulled out a thick white envelope.
My stomach tightened.
Carter raised it above his head.
"Before everyone decides I'm the villain," he announced, "perhaps they'd like to know what kind of woman Evelyn really is."
He opened the envelope.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens of them.
He held one up.
"This is your precious bride."
I looked at the picture.
And my heart stopped.
Because the woman in the photograph looked exactly like me.
Standing beside another man.
Outside a hotel.
And underneath the photograph was a date.
Three weeks earlier.
A date when I had supposedly been out of town.
May you like
Carter smiled.
"Let's talk about your affair, Evelyn."
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