Eighteen Broken Weddings Novel by Rose. J _ Novel




Eighteen Broken Weddings Chapter 01

I was reheating my husband Theodore Lambert's soup for the third time when I fell down an internet rabbit hole and stumbled onto a confession thread.
The prompt was simple: "What is the most outrageous thing you've ever done?"
I immediately started typing, "I canceled my wedding eighteen times to save my sister."
My thumb hovered over the send button, but the top comment stopped me cold.
"I deliberately injured myself to force the 'fake heiress' to cancel her wedding eighteen times.
"I'm the biological daughter of a wealthy family. After we went bankrupt, the fake heiress's husband started giving me six million dollars a month, while she works exhausting, demeaning odd jobs every day to pay off their debt. Every time he visits, he insists on having sex until morning, leaving me completely drained.
"Believe it or not. Anyway, he's flying out to London tonight to celebrate my birthday with me."
A second later, a text banner from Theodore dropped down from the top of my screen.
"Leti, I won't be able to make it for Christmas Eve this time either.
"I have to leave for a business trip to London tonight."
***
No way. It was impossible.
Reading that post, my immediate thought was that it had to be some bizarre coincidence.
One was the sister I'd sworn to do absolutely anything to protect.
The other was the husband who had sworn to do absolutely anything to protect me.
When Chelsea Everleigh and Theodore first met, he had insulted her right to her face, calling her a pathetic, poor girl. Chelsea had fired right back, labeling him a useless, rich playboy.
They'd fought bitterly every single time they crossed paths after that.
Even now, they didn't so much as have each other's phone numbers saved.
Theodore only sent Chelsea a Christmas Eve gift this year because I specifically nagged him about it.
I shook my head, feeling ridiculous for even entertaining the paranoia.
I opened my chat thread with Theodore and typed, "Stay safe."
I glanced over at the soup on the stove—a meal I'd simmered for eight hours and reheated three times already.
Letting out a quiet sigh, I flicked off the burner, slumped down on the couch, and went right back to scrolling through the thread.
Another user had asked the original poster if she ever worried about getting caught. The woman replied with a mocking emoji.
"How could she possibly find out?
"He and I intentionally argue in front of her so she'll never suspect a thing."
Naturally, plenty of commenters were tearing into her for being so immoral.
But others took her side, bluntly stating that the "fake heiress" was getting exactly what she deserved.
"You guys get it," the woman replied to her supporters. "The fake heiress lived a life of luxury in my place for eighteen years, so what if I take her husband now?
"Besides, I was the one supposed to marry him in the first place."
She'd attached a photo to the comment.
It showed a sparkling pink necklace resting against her smooth, delicate skin at her collarbone.
She looked incredibly pampered, like someone who had been spoiled her entire life.
"This is the Christmas gift he gave me," the caption read. "The fake heiress is probably still working some miserable job right now."
Before I turned eighteen, I used to be that happy, too.
But the second my family realized Chelsea was their actual biological daughter and brought her home, all their affection for me curdled into hostility.
They just wanted me to disappear and hand everything I had back to Chelsea.
Theodore was the only exception.
"So what if she's the biological daughter? You didn't steal her identity on purpose. You're a victim in this situation, too."
That night, Theodore knelt out in the snow for five full hours.
Because of that, his grandmother finally caved and agreed not to cancel our engagement.
A sudden knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Mrs. Lambert, this is Mr. Lambert's Christmas Eve gift for you."
Theodore's assistant handed me a box and hurried off.
Inside the red velvet box sat a pair of pink stud earrings.
Over our five years of marriage, Theodore had bought me plenty of gifts, but he had never gotten me anything pink.
He knew I absolutely hated the color pink.
I stared blankly at the jewelry for a second.
Then, I snatched up my phone and zoomed in hard on the photo from the comment section.
The earrings matched the necklace perfectly. They were a set.
My thumb brushed against a tiny engraving on the side of one of the earrings, and my whole body went rigid.
The side of the metal was clearly stamped with the letters C&T.
Chelsea and Theodore.
The capitalized first letters of their names.
A wave of intense nausea hit me, the sickness radiating down my back.
As I turned my head to dry heave, my earring slipped off, bouncing across the floor and rolling under the sofa.
I dropped to my knees to fish it out.
That was when I saw it—a stocking shoved deep into the crevice of the couch.
Swallowing my disgust, I grabbed a stick and pried it loose.
It was a pink lace stocking.
The exact shade of pink Chelsea loved, right down to her favorite brand.
Outside the window, the evening light was fading.
I felt completely gutted.
I quickly pulled up the woman's social media profile, but it was just a blank burner account.
With no other way to figure out the truth, I booked a flight to London.
I stumbled onto the plane, my nerves shot for the entire flight.
I wanted so desperately for all of this to be a lie.
But nothing I'd wished for had come true since I turned eighteen, and this time was no exception.
Standing by a red telephone booth on the corner, I watched the snow falling heavily around them.
Theodore dipped his head and kissed Chelsea.
The two people I loved most in the world, kissing in the snow, totally oblivious to everything else.
The noise of the city just faded away, leaving nothing but the quiet rush of the snow.
Every last drop of hope I had left drained right out of me.
Suddenly, Chelsea turned.
"Leticia?"

READ FULL NOVEL HERE