One afternoon, I was working as the lead coordinator for the wedding of a very wealthy woman—a wedding I had spent months planning. But nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing the groom. It was him—my Daniel.
My name is Lily. I’m 28, and I work as a private event planner. This wedding was the grandest I had ever organized, for Vanessa, a 38-year-old heiress to a major fashion empire. She had a vision for a dream wedding, and I was there to bring it to life.
I had flown in from another city to personally manage the final details. Vanessa had high expectations, and I was determined to exceed them. But what neither of us expected was that the evening would take such a dramatic turn.
Vanessa’s fiancé was a businessman named Eric—someone I had never met in person, even after months of planning.
“My fiancé lets me handle everything. He’s always busy with work,” she explained during our meetings.
I found it odd that he hadn’t participated in a single planning session—not even to select the music or menu. When I asked if he’d like to help choose the band, Vanessa just laughed.
“He completely trusts my taste.”
Still, something about the mysterious groom stuck with me.
Until the day of the wedding.
The venue buzzed with activity from dawn. I was checking everything—the white linens, the golden centerpieces, the crystal glassware.
“Stack the plates by size, and confirm the glass count with the caterer,” I instructed my team.
Soon, guests began arriving to soft background music. Then came the moment I had unknowingly dreaded:
“Please welcome the groom, Eric!” the emcee announced.
A sleek black limo pulled up. The door opened. And out stepped Daniel. My Daniel. The man who vanished six months ago, leaving me heartbroken—and broke.
My breath caught. My heart pounded. Our eyes met, and in his, I saw… nothing. No recognition. Just cold indifference.
This man, who had once whispered promises of forever, was now walking into someone else’s life—under a different name.
The memories hit like a wave.
Six months earlier…
Daniel and I had been planning our wedding. One night, in the warm glow of our bedroom lamp, we discussed the details.
“All the big payments are done—the venue, caterers, decorators,” he said.
“But I’ve run out of funds. The payment from my project got delayed.”
“It’s okay,” I said gently. “We’ll manage.”
Then he asked, almost hesitantly:
“Could you sign a power of attorney? It’ll help with managing payments more smoothly.”
I didn’t hesitate. I trusted him completely.
“It’s done,” I told him the next day.
“You can access my accounts now. The bank confirmed everything.”
“Thank you, Lily,” he smiled. “This wedding will be everything we dreamed of.”
We drifted to sleep that night, full of dreams. But I didn’t know it would be our last night together.
The next morning, he was gone.
His side of the bed—cold. The apartment—eerily quiet.
“Daniel?” I called out. Nothing.
Muddy footprints led to our closet. Empty—except for a few of my dresses.
My phone buzzed. Two bank alerts—$38,000 and $23,000. Gone.
Panic set in. I dialed his number again and again. Voicemail.
“He wouldn’t…” I whispered.
But he did. Daniel had vanished, along with all our money.
I went straight to the police. But because I had given him power of attorney, the officer explained it would be hard to press charges.
“Technically, it wasn’t illegal,” he said.
He left me with nothing.
Present day…
There he was. Daniel—now calling himself Eric. Charming guests at another wedding. My client’s wedding.
Anger boiled inside me.
I walked straight up to him.
Our eyes met again.
SLAP.
The sound echoed.
“You’re a fraud!” I shouted. “A liar and a thief!”
He kept his composure.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said coolly. “You must be mistaken.”
Turning to Vanessa, I said:
“This man’s real name is Daniel. He left me six months ago after robbing me of everything. He’s using you.”
“She’s mentally unstable,” he said quickly. “My name is Eric.”
“Oh really?” I snapped. “Got a whole wallet full of identities?”
I reached for my phone to call the police, but someone interrupted—a man with a badge.
“I’m Peter Greenwood, chief of the local police—and Vanessa’s brother. I know Eric. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I left—but not quietly. I left with a plan.
At a nearby café, an idea began to form. I remembered Vanessa once mentioning her long-lost grandmother’s sister—Linda. Someone she hadn’t seen in years.
What if “Linda” showed up today?
I called Carla, a professional makeup artist and friend.
“Make me look 90,” I told her.
An hour later, I stood in front of the mirror—transformed into an elderly woman.
“Time to meet Vanessa again,” I said.
Outside the banquet hall:
“My name is Linda. I believe I’m expected,” I told the guards.
They hesitated.
“Could you please call Vanessa?” I asked sweetly.
Moments later, she appeared.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Don’t you recognize your grandma’s sister? Linda?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Grandma Linda? After all these years?”
She hugged me, overwhelmed.
Once inside, I asked the emcee for the microphone.
“Good evening. I’m delighted to be here today,” I began.
“And I come bearing a gift—a family heirloom. A diamond worth $800,000.”
I showed a glittering, fake diamond and continued:
“It will return to the bank vault today, but I give Vanessa the right to access the storage.”
Daniel’s—Eric’s—eyes lit up.
Two hours later, he excused himself.
Moments later, the lights cut out.
I had expected this.
Hiding near the back entrance with a glass decanter, I waited.
As he snuck past me with the fake diamond, I struck him.
CRACK.
He dropped instantly.
Peter, the police chief, stepped forward.
“You were right,” he said, signaling his team.
Eric—Daniel—was arrested.
Vanessa approached me in shock.
“Lily? That was you?”
I nodded. She was speechless.
A week later, she showed up at my door.
“Thank you for everything,” she said.
And then offered me a job—as her personal assistant.
“I’d be honored,” I replied.
A new chapter had begun.