My pulse hammered. I tried calling Penelope. Voicemail again.

By 2:15, whispers rippled through the guests. My parents appeared, strained and furious beneath their concern.

“We’ll sort this out,” Dad insisted. “There has to be a reason.”

But in my chest, something cold was forming.

“The hotel,” I said suddenly. “He stayed at Millbrook Inn last night.”

Mom grabbed my arm. “Sweetheart, maybe we should wait—”
“No,” I said sharply. “I need to know.”

The drive took five minutes. It felt endless. Every possible explanation ran through my head—illness, nerves, a broken phone.

But deep down, the truth was already clawing its way up.

Millbrook Inn was quaint and charming. Maverick had booked the honeymoon suite, joking that he needed a preview before our Bahamas trip. I’d found that adorable.

Now, showing up in my wedding gown while the receptionist stared sympathetically felt like a twisted joke.

“Room 237,” she murmured, handing me the spare key.

My family followed down the burgundy hallway. Mom cried softly. Dad’s jaw was rigid. Danny kept checking his phone. Aunt Rose held my arm, steadying me.

I paused at the door of 237. Something inside moved—soft sounds, shifting sheets.

My heart pounded so violently it drowned everything else out.

Mom whispered, “Sweetie, maybe knock—”

But I was already unlocking the door.

The room was dim. Curtains drawn. Sheets tangled. Clothes scattered everywhere.

A man’s suit—his suit.

A purple bridesmaid dress.

Penelope’s dress.

And there they were—Maverick and Penelope—naked, wrapped around each other like lovers who weren’t hiding anything, like people who’d done this before.

Her dark hair spilled over his chest. His arm held her tight, even in sleep.

The sight h:it me like a punch.

Air vanished from my lungs. The room spun.

Behind me, Mom gasped. Dad cursed. Danny choked out something between a cry and a shout.

But I just stared, frozen, taking in every devastating detail—the champagne bottle, her jewelry scattered, the ease of their bodies together.

It wasn’t a mistake. It was a betrayal that had been alive long before I walked through that door.