Page 67 of Fake To Forever

She chuckles, glancing around at the guests again. "Oh, I don’t know. It seems like the perfect time to remind everyone what a farce this whole thing is."

A few heads turn in our direction, the hum of conversation slowly dying down as people start to focus on us. I feel the blood drain from my face, but I have to keep control.

"Leave," I say, stepping closer, keeping my voice firm but quiet. "This is Haven’s day. You don’t belong here."

Theresa laughs, and it’s a cold, cutting sound. "Oh, please, Christian. Everyone here knows you’re just doing this to make yourself look good for the custody battle. You think a wedding and a pretty little wife are going to save you?"

I glance back toward Haven, who’s now stopped dancing and is looking in our direction, confusion and worry etched across her face. I need to handle this, and I need to handle it fast.

"You need to leave, Theresa. Now," I repeat, my voice sharper, on the edge of breaking. "Don’t do this here. Not today."

She steps closer, and the heat of her anger is palpable. "What, are you afraid everyone here is going to figure out what a fraud you are? That this little arrangement you’ve got going on is just for show?"

Before I can respond, I hear a sudden gasp behind me, and then Haven screams, “Mom!”

I whip around and my heart drops as her mom slumps forward in her wheelchair, her face pale, her hands clutching the armrests as her body goes limp. Garrett is at her side in an instant, shouting her name, trying to catch her before she collapses completely.

Haven and Marie rush toward her as her nurse moves into action, trying to stabilize her.

Panic grips me, and everything else disappears—Theresa, the guests, all of it. I run toward them, my heart racing as Haven kneels beside her mother, her hands trembling as she tries to hold her steady. Marie stands behind Haven, looking terrified as she gazes down at Leila.

"Mom, please," Haven whispers, her voice breaking as tears well up in her eyes.

The nurse is already shouting instructions, calling for help, but I can see the fear in her eyes. This isn’t just a fainting spell. Haven’s mom is in real trouble.

Garrett grabs his phone, dialing for an ambulance, while I kneel beside Haven, my hand on her back, trying to offer some kind of comfort even though I feel completely helpless. Haven’s sobs tear through the quiet air, and all I can do is hold her, watching as her mother’s breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps.

I look up at the nurse, who’s checking Leila’s pulse, her face tense.

“She’s not responding,” the nurse says, her voice tight with urgency. “We need to get her to a hospital. Now.”

Everything moves in a blur after that. Guests are scrambling to help, people calling for cars, and within minutes, we’re rushing Leila to my car. I glance back toward the reception one last time before we leave, and there’s Theresa, standing there, watching. The look on her face is unreadable—maybe she didn’t mean for things to go this far, but it doesn’t matter. She caused this, and I’ll never forgive her for it.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Gone

Haven

The fluorescent lights of the hospital are too bright, too harsh as we rush through the emergency room doors. My heart pounds in my chest, my thoughts a mess of fear and disbelief. This can’t be happening, not today—not on what was supposed to be such a happy day. Garrett is at my side, his face pale and tight with worry, and my stepfather is just behind us, his hand gripping the back of my mom’s wheelchair as the nurses guide her swiftly through the corridor. Her skin is so pale, her breathing shallow. She’s barely conscious, and every shallow breath she takes feels like a countdown, ticking down to something I’m not ready for.

"Mom," I whisper, my voice shaking as I lean down toward her, gripping her hand tightly. Her fingers are cold, limp in my grip. "We’re here. We’re at the hospital. You’re going to be okay."

The words feel empty even as I say them, but I need to believe them. I need to hold on to that hope, no matter how fragile it is.

The nurses push her into a room, and Garrett and I are forced to wait outside as they start hooking her up to machines. Time blurs. Minutes feel like hours. I sit in one of the hard plastic chairs, still in my wedding dress, staring at the tiled floor, my whole body trembling. Christian is next to me, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, but I feel distant, like I’m floating outside of myself, watching everything happen to someone else.

After a while, a doctor comes out with a grim expression, causing my heart to sink. Garrett and Peter stand up immediately, and my brother has his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Haven, Garrett, Peter," the doctor begins, his voice gentle but firm. "I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do. Leila’s condition has deteriorated too far, and her body is shutting down. We can make her comfortable, but it’s time to say your goodbyes."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My vision blurs, and I can barely breathe. Garrett is standing there, completely still, but I can see the devastation in his eyes. My stepfather lowers his head, his shoulders shaking as he lets out a ragged breath.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "No, this can’t be happening."

The doctor gives us a sympathetic nod and steps aside, giving us the space to go in and see her. I feel Christian’s hand on my back, grounding me, giving me the strength to move forward, but my legs feel like they’re made of lead as I step into the room.

She’s lying in the hospital bed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She looks so small, so fragile, and the sight of her like this makes my chest tighten with an unbearable ache. Garrett stands on one side of her, his hand gripping the bed rail, his jaw clenched as he fights back tears. Peter is on the other side, holding her hand in his.

I move to her side, taking her other hand, trying to find my voice, but it feels trapped in my throat. The room is too quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of the heart monitor, and it’s suffocating.

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