Chapter 2 - The Wedding Everyone Expected to Fail
The first headline was almost polite.
The second wasn't.
Within forty-eight hours of Nathan proposing to me, entertainment websites, gossip accounts, and tabloids had turned my life into public entertainment.
WHO IS EMILY HAYES?
BILLIONAIRE'S BRIDE HID THREE SECRET CHILDREN?
CARTER HEIR READY TO BECOME STEPFATHER TO THREE?
Someone had apparently paid former employees for information.
Clara's old remarks resurfaced.
People who had never spoken more than five words to me suddenly became anonymous sources.
One article described me as "a mysterious West Virginia single mother with a complicated romantic history."
Another claimed Nathan was planning to financially support three fathers.
A television commentator actually laughed while discussing whether billionaires should require background checks before proposing.
I stopped reading after that.
Nathan didn't.
He read everything.
Not because he believed it.
Because he wanted to know who was attacking me.
I found him one night in his office, laptop open, jaw tight.
"You need to stop."
He looked up.
"So do they."
"You can't control strangers."
"No, but I can control what publications receive legal letters tomorrow morning."
Despite everything, I smiled.
"Nathan."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
He closed the laptop.
"Are you okay?"
That question had become his habit.
And my answer had become a lie.
"I'm fine."
He stood.
"Emily."
I sighed.
"I'm embarrassed."
"Why?"
"Because people are talking about things they know nothing about."
"That's their embarrassment, not yours."
I looked toward the window.
"They're talking about you too."
"I've survived worse."
"Your investors..."
"Don't choose my wife."
"Your board..."
"Doesn't choose my wife."
"Your mother?"
That finally silenced him.
Margaret Carter had not taken the engagement well.
She arrived at the mansion the morning after the news broke.
I was in the breakfast room when her heels clicked sharply across the marble floor.
"Nathan."
He lowered his newspaper.
"Good morning, Mother."
"This is not good."
"I assume you're referring to the market."
"I'm referring to that."
She pointed at me.
I quietly stood.
"I'll leave."
"No," Nathan said immediately. "Stay."
Margaret stared at him.
"You're humiliating this family."
Nathan's expression hardened.
"I'm marrying a woman I love."
"She's your employee."
"Was."
"She's twenty-five."
"I'm thirty."
"She has three children!"
The room went silent.
I felt the familiar pressure in my chest.
Nathan glanced at me, then back at his mother.
"So?"
Margaret's face changed.
"So?"
"Yes."
"Three children with three different men, according to everyone who worked here."
"According to gossip."
"Do you know who their fathers are?"
"No."
"Have you met the children?"
"No."
"Do you even know where they live?"
"No."
Margaret laughed without humor.
"And you don't find that alarming?"
Nathan placed the newspaper aside.
"I find your behavior alarming."
Her eyes widened.
"Excuse me?"
"You came into my home to humiliate the woman I'm going to marry."
"I'm protecting you."
"No. You're protecting the image of who you think I should marry."
She turned toward me.
"Emily, surely you understand this."
My hands were shaking under the table.
I stood straighter.
"I understand that you love your son."
"Then leave him."
Nathan pushed back his chair.
"Mother."
But Margaret kept looking at me.
"If you care about him, don't drag him into your past."
Something inside me hurt because part of me agreed with her.
She didn't know the truth.
But she was right about one thing.
Nathan didn't know my past.
Not really.
That night, I almost ended the engagement.
I packed half a suitcase before he found me.
He stood in the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
"Making this easier."
"For whom?"
"For you."
"No."
"Nathan—"
"No."
He crossed the room.
"You're not making decisions for me because my mother was cruel to you."
"She's not the only one."
"I don't care."
"You will."
His expression changed.
"What does that mean?"
I stared at my suitcase.
There it was.
The opportunity.
Tell him.
Explain Johnny.
Explain Paul.
Explain Lily.
Explain the scars everyone assumed I had.
Explain the years of money orders.
Explain why I had never allowed myself to build a life that belonged entirely to me.
But when I imagined saying the words aloud, I couldn't.
Not yet.
Nathan gently took my hands.
"I've never asked you to explain the children."
"I know."
"I assumed there was pain there."
"There is."
"I assumed maybe fathers had abandoned you."
I closed my eyes.
"I never said that."
"No. Other people did."
He touched my cheek.
"And I should have been more careful not to absorb their assumptions."
I looked at him.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize."
"I should have told you."
"Then tell me when you're ready."
"What if the truth changes how you see me?"
His answer came immediately.
"It won't."
"You can't know that."
"You're right."
For the first time, Nathan looked uncertain.
Then he continued.
"But I know who you are now. That's enough for me to risk learning who you were."
I cried then.
Quietly.
Nathan held me.
And the suitcase remained half packed until morning.
We chose a small wedding.
Not because Nathan couldn't afford something enormous.
Because neither of us wanted strangers turning it into a spectacle.
The ceremony would take place in the estate garden with fewer than forty guests.
His mother reluctantly agreed to attend.
Bradley was best man.
Mrs. Dawson cried when I asked her to stand with me.
For several weeks, things almost felt peaceful.
Then the invitations leaked.
Paparazzi gathered outside the estate gates.
Commentators debated our marriage.
And the stories about my supposed children became increasingly vicious.
One afternoon, a reporter shouted as I entered a florist.
"Emily! Which father is the oldest child's dad?"
I kept walking.
"Does Nathan financially support all three?"
I opened the door.
"Are the children attending the wedding?"
That stopped me.
For one dangerous second, I turned.
The reporter raised his microphone.
I wanted to say:
You don't know anything.
Johnny isn't what you think.
Paul isn't what you think.
Lily—
But I walked inside.
Nathan's security team doubled after that.
Still, the rumors found us.
At our rehearsal dinner, one of Nathan's university friends raised a champagne glass.
"To Nathan," he said, already slightly drunk. "Most guys panic when their girlfriend says she has a kid. Nathan apparently heard three and said, challenge accepted."
Several people laughed.
Nathan didn't.
"Leave."
The man's smile disappeared.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Come on, Carter. It's a joke."
"Leave."
The room became silent.
The man looked around, waiting for support.
There was none.
He left.
I stared at Nathan.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did."
Across the table, Margaret watched me with an unreadable expression.
Later, she found me alone on the terrace.
"You've changed him."
I wasn't sure whether she meant it kindly.
"I don't think anyone changes Nathan."
"He used to care what people thought."
"He still does."
"No. He cares what you think."
I looked out over the dark garden.
Margaret folded her arms.
"Are they coming tomorrow?"
"Who?"
She gave me a sharp look.
"The children."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because they can't."
Her expression tightened.
"Does Nathan know that?"
"No."
She stared at me.
"You're going to marry my son while keeping something this important from him."
I looked directly at her.
"Yes."
"Then perhaps every terrible thing people say about you is deserved."
That hurt more than I expected.
But I answered quietly.
"Maybe."
Margaret seemed surprised.
"You agree?"
"I agree that Nathan deserves the truth."
"Then tell him."
"I will."
"When?"
I looked toward the illuminated upstairs windows.
"Tomorrow night."
She frowned.
"After the wedding?"
"Yes."
"Why then?"
Because there were some truths I had promised never to reveal unless someone truly chose me without knowing them.
Because I had spent years being judged for something that wasn't mine.
Because I needed to know Nathan's love wasn't built on pity.
But I didn't explain.
"I have my reasons."
Margaret shook her head.
"I hope they're worth risking his trust."
Then she walked away.
The next afternoon, I stood beneath white roses and autumn leaves wearing a simple ivory gown.
Nathan waited for me beneath the arbor.
When I reached him, his eyes filled with tears.
I almost lost the courage to continue.
During the vows, my hands shook.
Nathan noticed.
He squeezed them gently.
When it was my turn to speak, my voice cracked.
"Nathan, are you completely certain?"
Several guests shifted uneasily.
He smiled.
"Completely."
"You still have time to walk away."
His thumb brushed over my knuckles.
"I'll never regret loving you."
We exchanged rings.
The officiant pronounced us husband and wife.
Nathan kissed me.
For one brief moment, every rumor disappeared.
There was only us.
But later that night, as music faded downstairs and guests departed, I stood inside the master bedroom I had once cleaned as an employee.
I wore an ivory satin robe over white bridal lingerie.
Nathan entered behind me and quietly closed the door.
He loosened his tie.
I couldn't move.
He noticed immediately.
"Emily?"
My heart hammered.
Years of secrets sat between us.
Nathan approached but stopped before touching me.
"You don't have to be afraid."
I looked down at my trembling fingers.
"Everyone thinks they know my past."
"I don't care what everyone thinks."
"You might after tonight."
His expression softened.
"I never married their rumors."
Tears filled my eyes.
I untied the robe.
And when the satin opened, Nathan stared.
Not with desire.
With confusion.
Because what he expected to see wasn't there.
No physical evidence of three pregnancies.
No signs supporting the story everyone had repeated for years.
Nothing about my body matched the life people had invented for me.
Nathan slowly lifted his eyes.
"Emily..."
I pulled the robe around myself again.
His voice became a whisper.
"Johnny, Paul, and Lily?"
My lips trembled.
"They were never my children."
Nathan stopped breathing.
And then I reached for the small photograph hidden inside my bedside drawer.
May you like
Because the three names everyone had used to shame me belonged to a story far more painful than anyone could have imagined.
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