For the tenth time, my fiancee mistaken my twin sister for me

The morning of my wedding felt less like a celebration and more like a funeral march. The sky was heavy and gray, the air thick with something I couldn’t name.

I watched the clock tick closer to noon, each second a warning. I knew what Candice and Harper had planned. I knew they wanted me alone, vulnerable, easy to erase from their perfect picture.

Candice hadn’t said a word to Harper about me leaving. Of course, she’d wanted him for herself for years, and now that she had everything—his attention, his child, even my wedding dress—she wasn’t about to risk it.

But that was the least of my concerns. I had my own escape planned, and this time, I wouldn’t let anyone stand in my way.

They left for the venue early, insisting I should ride alone “for the bridal effect.” I saw the way Candice looked at me, her smile too wide, her eyes too bright.

Harper barely met my gaze, already caught up in the whirlwind of his new life. I nodded, playing along, letting them think they’d won.

But I wasn’t getting in that car. Instead, I texted Riley: “It’s time. Are you ready?”

He replied instantly: “I’m outside. Hurry.”

I slipped out the back door with my small suitcase and the phone clutched in my hand. The decoy—one of Riley’s trusted bodyguards, dressed in a spare white dress and veil—would take my place in the car.

The plan was simple: let Candice and Harper think I was on my way, and then the car crashed.

Riley’s car was waiting, engine running.

We sped through the city, the tension in my chest easing only when we reached the airport. I handed Riley my passport, my ticket, everything I’d need to start over. He squeezed my hand, his warmth grounding me.

“You’ll be safe with me. I’ll never hurt you,” he promised, and I believed him.

As we waited for my flight, I pulled out my phone and opened the app where the hidden CCTV footage of the venue was streaming.

The screen flickered to life, showing the grand ballroom, the guests in their finery, the flowers and candles and crystal.

For a moment, I let myself watch, detached, as if it were someone else’s life about to unravel.

I watched as Candice leaned in to whisper something to our mother, her expression perfectly rehearsed. My mother’s face twisted with concern and frustration.

“She’s got cold feet,” Candice said, her voice trembling just enough to seem real. “Camille… she left these letters. I’m so sorry, Mom.” She handed over a stack of forged notes—her handwriting mimicking mine, full of apologies and regret and cowardice.

My mother scanned the letters, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes sharp.

Harper stepped forward, his devastation so theatrical it almost made me laugh.

“She left me,” he said, voice breaking. “I don’t know what I did wrong. Please, Mrs. Laurent, I loved her. I don’t understand.”

He clung to my mother’s arm, and she patted his hand, her face softening.

“No, this can’t happen. You have to be standing for your sister, Candice. This wedding must go on. The scandal if she ran away… I won’t allow it.”

Candice glanced at Harper, feigning uncertainty. “Would that be okay? I mean, is it… right?”

Harper nodded, his eyes glistening with fake grief. “Yes, yes. Camille left me. Please, save me, Candice. Don’t let this day be ruined.”

But I saw the flicker of satisfaction in both their eyes, the way their smiles grew just a little too wide when my mother turned away.

This was their plan all along.

The guests were ushered back to their seats, the music restarted. Candice and Harper stood at the altar, exchanging nervous glances as the officiant began the ceremony. No one even noticed it wasn't me, but Candice, except for my mother who'd always favored Candice. But now, she will know everything.

I watched, numb, as they recited vows meant for me—words that should have belonged to me and Harper. But I was a fool for believing in his love.

And then, as the ceremony reached its climax, the butler approached Harper’s grandmother, carrying the box I’d sent.

He placed it gently in her lap, and she opened it with trembling fingers.

Inside were the photos, the texts, the recordings—every dark secret, every betrayal, every proof that Candice and Harper had plotted against me. The evidence spilled out, stark and undeniable.

Harper’s grandmother stared at the contents, her face paling.

She looked up, voice shaking with rage and disbelief. “What is the meaning of this? You’re not Camille! Where is she? Did you kill Camille?!”