Chapter 4: The Man in the Photograph
I spent Friday morning trying to find Daniel.
The name alone wasn't enough. A search brought up dozens of men, most of them with no connection to Nicole.
So I started with the country club.
I called and asked whether Saturday's wedding was still scheduled.
The woman at the front desk confirmed the event but refused to give me any details about the couple.
“I'm the bride's husband,” I said.
Silence.
“I'm sorry, sir. I can't help you with that.””
“Then let me ask you something else. Is Daniel the groom's first name?””
Another pause.
“I really can't discuss private events.””
She ended the call.
I sat at my desk, staring at the photograph Nicole had left behind.
The man wore a charcoal suit and an expensive watch. He looked to be in his early forties, with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard.
His wedding band was unmistakable.
Was he already married?
Was Nicole planning to marry a man who had a wife?
Or was there something else I wasn't seeing?
At eleven, my brother David called.
“You sound terrible,” he said.
“Thanks.””
“I'm serious. What's going on?””
I hesitated.
Then I told him about the dress, the invitation, and the photograph.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he let out a long breath.
“Marcus, you need to slow down.””
“Slow down? She's apparently marrying another man tomorrow.””
“Then you need to find out the facts before you do something you'll regret.””
“What facts could possibly make this acceptable?””
“I don't know. That's why I'm telling you to find out.””
He was right, which annoyed me even more.
After we hung up, I called the bridal boutique.
The woman who answered recognized Nicole's name immediately.
“Yes, Mrs. Hayes has an appointment with us this afternoon.””
“I'm her husband.””
“I see.””
“I need to know whether the veil she ordered is ready.””
“I'm sorry, but I can't discuss another client's order.””
“I understand. But the veil was made using lace removed from my late wife's wedding dress without my consent. My daughter is devastated, and I need to know whether the original fabric can be recovered.””
The woman went quiet.
“I'm very sorry to hear that.””
“Is the veil still at your shop?””
“I can tell you that Mrs. Hayes is scheduled for a fitting at two. If you have concerns about the materials, perhaps you should speak with her directly.””
I thanked her and ended the call.
At one forty-five, I parked across the street from the boutique.
I didn't want to create a scene. I only wanted to see what Nicole had planned.
At two ten, she arrived in a black SUV.
She wore a fitted navy dress, heels, and the pearl earrings Emily had given me as a wedding gift years ago.
I recognized them immediately.
They had been in a small velvet box in my bedroom drawer.
I had assumed they were still there.
Nicole entered the boutique carrying a garment bag.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged with another woman.
The woman was older, perhaps in her late fifties, with silver-blond hair and a cream-colored coat. She carried a large white box tied with satin ribbon.
They stood on the sidewalk talking.
Then the older woman opened the box.
Even from across the street, I could see the veil inside.
Ivory lace covered the delicate tulle, with a distinctive floral pattern running along the edge.
My wife's lace.
Nicole touched it reverently.
The older woman said something I couldn't hear.
Nicole smiled.
Then she held the veil against herself and turned toward the window, admiring the reflection.
I felt a wave of anger so powerful I had to sit back in my seat.
She wasn't merely altering an heirloom.
She was celebrating what she had done.
A few minutes later, the older woman left.
Nicole remained outside, speaking on her phone.
I rolled down my window.
Her voice carried across the street.
“Yes, Daniel. It's ready.””
She listened.
“No, Marcus doesn't know the whole story yet.””
Another pause.
“I know. But after tomorrow, he won't have any choice.””
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
Nicole laughed softly.
“Don't worry. Once everyone sees the veil, they'll understand why I had to do it.””
She ended the call and returned to the boutique.
I drove home.
On the way, I stopped at a small café and sat in the back corner with a cup of coffee I barely touched.
I tried to make sense of what I'd heard.
After tomorrow, I won't have any choice.
What choice was she talking about?
The wedding?
The dress?
Our marriage?
When I arrived home, Maya was sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop open.
She had been researching old wedding photographs, trying to find a picture that showed the missing lace clearly enough for a restoration specialist.
“Dad, look at this.””
She turned the laptop toward me.
It was a photograph from our wedding album.
Emily stood beside her maid of honor, holding a bouquet of white roses. Her veil fell behind her shoulders, and the lace along its edge matched the pattern missing from her gown.
Maya zoomed in.
“See this part? The flowers repeat every three inches. They're exactly the same as the pieces missing from Mom's sleeves.””
I sat beside her.
“You're right.””
She looked at me.
“Can we get them back?””
“I hope so.””
She swallowed.
“Dad, I found something else.””
She opened another browser tab.
It was a public wedding announcement from a local newspaper, published four years earlier.
A photograph showed the same man from Nicole's picture standing beside a woman in a white dress.
His name was Daniel Mercer.
The woman beside him was identified as Laura Mercer.
Maya clicked another link.
A business profile appeared.
Daniel Mercer was the owner of Mercer Development Group, a property investment company. His wife, Laura, was listed as the company's co-founder.
I leaned closer.
Then I noticed the date on the newspaper announcement.
Four years earlier.
“Dad,” Maya whispered, “isn't that the same wedding ring?””
I looked at the photograph.
It was.
Daniel had worn the same gold band in both pictures.
Maya opened Laura Mercer's social media page.
The latest public photograph showed Laura standing beside Daniel at a charity event six weeks earlier.
His arm was around her waist.
The caption read: Another wonderful evening with my favorite person.
I felt my stomach turn.
“Nicole knows he's married,” Maya said.
“I don't know what she knows yet.””
“But the ring—”
“I see it.””
She closed the laptop.
“Dad, what if she's trying to ruin our family because she wants his?””
I pulled her into a hug.
“No matter what Nicole wants, she doesn't get to decide what happens to us.””
Maya buried her face against my shoulder.
For the first time since we had discovered the dress, she cried without trying to hide it.
That evening, I called Nicole.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“What?””
“Who is Daniel Mercer?””
Silence.
Then, in a voice so cold I barely recognized it, she said, “You should stay out of things you don't understand.””
“Is he married?””
“That's none of your business.””
“You are my wife.””
“Not for much longer, Marcus.””
My heart hammered.
“So it's true. You're marrying him tomorrow.””
She exhaled sharply.
“I'm not going to explain everything over the phone.””
“Then explain the veil.””
“It's part of the ceremony.””
“What ceremony?””
She hung up.
I stared at the screen.
A moment later, a text appeared.
It was from an unknown number.
If you want to know why Nicole took your wife's dress, come to the country club tomorrow at three. Don't tell her you're coming.
There was no name.
No explanation.
May you like
Just an address and a final sentence.
*Ask Laura what happened to her first wedding dress.*
