The Heiress Who Cancelled Her Own Wedding

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The whole room broke into an uproar.

It drowned out the wedding music, every guest turning to stare at us in shock.

Patrick's pupils shrank. The stunned look crossed his face and vanished, his brows knotting tight.

He dropped his voice and ground the words out through his teeth:

"Kayla! You've gone too far!"

I've gone too far?

Rebecca Henson was the orphaned daughter of my father's comrade, a child my parents doted on from the time she was small, raised so close to me we practically wore the same clothes.

My parents were softhearted and loyal to old bonds, and out of respect for a fallen hero they spoiled her more than their own daughter, telling everyone she was my adopted sister.

Years ago my father had thrown himself in front of a falling boulder on the mountain to save her, snapping a leg in the process. He'd lived on a cane ever since, his health worse with every passing year.

Even in the family's hardest times, she never went without.

Whatever I had, she had too, and always a little more.

My parents used to say it all the time: "Kayla, you're an only child. When we're gone, you and Rebecca have to look after each other."

In my last life, it was her disappointment in them that broke my parents' hearts, the grief and rage that ground them down until they died.

After we were gone, she took up with Patrick at once and walked off with everything the family owned.

A rushed voice cut sharply through my thoughts.

It was my mother, shoving through the crowd, hurrying toward me at a run.

She forced her way through, rushed to my side, and gripped my hands, looking me up and down again and again, her eyes full of dread at what might have happened.

"Kayla, are you all right?"

My father came behind her, his face dark, leaning on his cane as he made his slow way over.

His gaze dropped to the puddle and the shattered pieces on the floor. He said nothing, his eyes unreadable.

I was sick, and my parents had always hoped someone would treat me well, take care of me.

So they raised Patrick up at every turn, stepped back to clear his path, and poured more than half of the Pruitt family's resources into him.

The moment Patrick saw my parents arrive, he threw his shoulders back.

"Uncle Douglas Pruitt, Mrs. Pruitt, look at Kayla. She's using her illness as an excuse. This is disgraceful!"

"Don't be so quick to change your tune. How is Kayla being disgraceful?" my father said, his voice low and hard, coming out slow.

Patrick faltered, then dodged the real question and pushed every fault onto me.

Rebecca stood at his side, her earlobes flushed red, her eyes rimmed with red, tears welling as she bowed her head, the very picture of a girl being bullied.

"Uncle Gilbert, I..."

My father pressed his lips together, waved a hand to cut Rebecca off, and turned slowly toward me.

His gaze settled on me, heavy, without a trace of a smile.

"Kayla, was it you who smashed the toast cup?"

My father loved me, but he'd always been strict, raising me to be generous with people, to know my manners and behave.

In my last life, the sound of my parents screaming my name filled my ears again. My heart skipped a beat, and my nose stung.

Afraid of upsetting him, I held tight to both my parents, kept my eyes down, and didn't dare say another word that might provoke him.

"I'll only ask you this. Are you certain you want to cancel the wedding?" His tone was firm.

The hall went dead silent.

Rebecca's lips curved slowly upward, her eyes bright with triumph, settling in to watch the show.

I didn't hesitate. I bit my lip and nodded hard.

"I'm certain."

"Good."

One word, clean and final.

My father's hand shot up, the cane in it sweeping out in a vicious arc.

The crisp crack of breaking glass burst across the room.

The champagne tower crashed to the floor, and every wine glass on the tables shattered at once.

Glass, shards of porcelain, and liquor sprayed everywhere.

"Then there will be no wedding."

After the dead silence, the whole room exploded.

Murmurs and sharp intakes of breath rose one after another, deafening.

Patrick went rigid where he stood, his pupils trembling.

"Douglas, what are you doing?!"