My Mother Interrupted My Wedding to Tell Me the Truth

I felt a wave of relief. My plan had worked; we were finally going to get him.

But then, Christian dropped his suitcase, and it popped open — empty. The cops yelled, “Don’t move!” But Christian just smirked, pulling something from his pocket. Suddenly, the room was full of tear gas, and in the chaos, Christian slipped away with the painting.

He escaped AGAIN. I couldn’t believe it.

His face was all over the wanted posters, but he was never found.

Then, the backlash hit me. People thought I was in on it with Christian. My job was on the line. “I was trying to catch him, not help him!” I tried to explain, but it was like talking to a wall. And on top of everything, I found out I was pregnant.

I decided to start over in Paris, away from the mess. It was just me and the new life growing inside me, trying to find some peace.

I held Mom’s hand tight, my eyes all teary. “It’s so unfair, what happened to you, Mom.”

She sounded sad but hopeful. “Even after everything with Christian, my love for you, April, keeps me going.”

A pang of guilt stabbed at me. How could I have been so oblivious? The age difference I’d brushed aside, Zack’s insistence on keeping our relationship private, the subtle unease I’d sometimes felt — it all came flooding back. My happy wedding day fell apart right before me.

I looked at Mom through my tears.

“I had no idea he was your… he was Christian. I had to stop the wedding, sweetheart,” she said.

Everyone at the wedding couldn’t believe it. The whole thing stopped because of this huge secret.

Then, Christian tried to run away. But he couldn’t get far before everyone started chasing him.

Mom looked really scared and dialed 911. “There’s been a crime,” she said, her voice all shaky.

I felt so drained by everything that happened.

I just hugged Mom, trying to feel a bit better. Watching the police take Christian away, I was relieved.

Later that day, we were at the police station. But Mom was calm, and her voice didn’t even shake as she told the detectives about all the tricks Christian had pulled. “He had it all figured out from the start. The art cons, stealing that old painting—he did it all.”

The detective nodded, his pen pausing over the notes he was taking. “And you’re saying he kept the original Renaissance painting all this time?”

“Yes,” an officer from the interrogation room chimed in. “He’s confessed. The crook intended to sell the painting through a black market auction. He’d been holding onto it for years, waiting for the right moment.”

When they searched Christian’s place, they found it packed with all sorts of stolen art. It turns out Mom and I weren’t his only victims. Getting back that painting felt like a small victory in all this mess.

Before we left, Mom looked straight at Christian, her eyes sharp. “You’ve done a lot of damage, Christian,” she said. “But in the end, justice wins.”

Walking out of there, painting in hand, it was like a weight lifted. This chapter of hurt was finally over, and now we could start fixing things, bit by bit.