Chapter 1

The air in the bridal suite was thick with the scent of lilies and hairspray.

It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

My name was Abigail Turner then, "Abby" to everyone who knew me.

I stared at my reflection in the ornate mirror, the white lace of my wedding dress a stark contrast to the storm brewing in my heart.

Then, the door opened.

It wasn't my mother or my maid of honor.

It was Brandon Hayes, my fiancé.

He wasn't smiling.

"Brandon? You're not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony," I said, a nervous laugh escaping my lips.

He didn't answer, just walked toward me, his eyes cold and distant. He stopped right in front of me, his gaze fixed on the delicate diamond necklace around my neck. It was his mother's, a family heirloom he had given me when he proposed.

"I need that back," he said, his voice flat.

"What? Brandon, what are you talking about?"

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my skin as he unclasped the necklace. I was too stunned to move, to even protest. He just took it.

He held the necklace in his palm for a moment before his eyes flicked toward the door.

My cousin, Seraphina Vance, stood there, her eyes red-rimmed as if she'd been crying. She was clutching a small overnight bag.

Brandon walked over to her, and without a word, he fastened the necklace around her neck.

My necklace.

My future.

It was now hers.

"Brandon, what is this?" My voice finally returned, but it was a weak, trembling thing.

He turned back to me, his expression unreadable.

"I can't marry you, Abby."

"The wedding is canceled."

He then looked at Seraphina, his voice softening. "I'm marrying Seraphina. Today."

The words didn't make sense. It felt like a scene from a terrible movie. My own cousin, who was supposed to be my bridesmaid, was now taking my place.

"Why?" I managed to choke out.

Brandon sighed, a sound of immense self-pity. "It's for the good of the family. There's a curse, Abby. A psychic told Seraphina's mother. If I don't marry her, something terrible will happen to the Vance family, and by extension, our family."

A curse. He was canceling our wedding, destroying my life, because of a so-called curse.

Seraphina sniffled, burying her face in Brandon's chest. "I'm so sorry, Abby. I didn't want this. But I can't let my family suffer."

Her apology was as hollow as her tears.

Brandon held her tight, stroking her hair. He looked back at me, his eyes now filled with a strange kind of pity, as if I were the one who couldn't understand.

"It's just for a few years, Abby," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Once the danger from the curse has passed, I'll divorce her. Just wait for me. You'll always be the one I love."

The absurdity of his words was staggering. He wanted me to wait. To put my life on hold while he played hero in this ridiculous drama he and Seraphina had concocted.

My family rushed in then, drawn by the commotion. My mother saw the scene-me in my dress, Brandon holding Seraphina, the necklace on the wrong neck-and her face paled.

Everyone started talking at once, a cacophony of confusion and outrage. They all expected me to break down, to scream, to beg Brandon to change his mind. They looked at me, waiting for the tears.

But the tears never came.

A strange calm washed over me. The heartbreak was a cold, hard stone in my chest, but my mind was clear.

I looked at Brandon, at the man I thought I would spend my life with, and I saw a stranger. A weak, arrogant man easily manipulated by a woman who had always been jealous of me.

I turned to my father. "Dad, do you remember the arrangement with the Beaumont family in Europe?"

My father's eyes widened. It was an old family agreement, a potential alliance through marriage that had been on the back burner for years, something we all thought was a relic of the past.

"Abby, you don't mean..."

"I do," I said, my voice steady and firm. "Call them. Tell them I accept."

Silence fell over the room. Brandon stared at me, his jaw slack. This was not the reaction he had anticipated. He expected a weeping, helpless victim.

"Abby, don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "You're just upset. You don't know what you're saying."

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life," I replied, my gaze unwavering.

I began to unbutton the back of the wedding dress. My mother rushed to help me, her hands shaking.

I stepped out of the pristine white gown, leaving it in a heap on the floor. I walked to my closet, pulled out a simple dress, and put it on. I didn't look at Brandon or Seraphina again. They no longer existed for me.

My life as Abigail "Abby" Turner ended in that room.

The next day, I was on a plane to Europe, leaving behind the wreckage of my old life to start a new one.

Five years passed.

The world no longer knew me as Abby Turner.

I was now Ava Beaumont, a respected art curator, happily married, and six months pregnant with my first child.

I stood at the arrivals gate at JFK, a soft smile on my face as I watched my husband, William, speak with his assistant. He was tall and kind, with a quiet strength that was my anchor. His love was not a curse or a transaction, it was a peaceful harbor.

I was back in the United States for the first time in five years, for one reason only: William's grandfather, the patriarch of the Beaumont family, was celebrating his ninetieth birthday.

And I was returning as a completely different woman.