Margaret, 78, hoped to give her daughter’s fiancé a meaningful gift when she spotted him slipping into the loo with a bridesmaid. Following them, what she saw sent her rushing to stop the wedding.
That day should have been joyous. Her daughter Emily, 50, was set to marry the man she adored, William. Margaret planned to gift him her late husband’s diamond cufflinks before the ceremony. But William moved briskly, forcing her aching knees to keep up. She watched as he whispered to Sophie, a bridesmaid and his colleague, before they slipped toward the back of the pub.
Curious, Margaret crept closer and glimpsed them entering the WC together. She nudged the door ajar—her stomach dropped at the sight.
“Can’t wait any longer, love,” William murmured, pulling Sophie close.
“Not now,” she giggled. “One slip, and our plan’s ruined.”
“An affair?” Margaret pressed against the wall, stunned.
“Just one last fling before I’m stuck with dull Emily,” William added.
“Patience, darling. A few months of marriage, then the divorce payout—millions in assets. But only if you keep your hands to yourself for now!”
Through the reflection, Margaret saw them locked in a passionate embrace.
“Stop—we must return,” Sophie whispered between kisses.
“Not till you promise to meet me tonight,” William insisted. “Same as always—secretly, once Emily’s at work.”
Margaret couldn’t bear another second. She hurried to warn her daughter.
In the dining hall, Emily stood on stage, microphone in hand. “I’ve waited years for this,” she announced before singing a heartfelt ballad. The room erupted in applause as William rushed to embrace her, his adoring gaze twisting Margaret’s gut.
As guests filed toward the dance floor, Margaret intercepted Emily. “Love, we must talk—about William.”
“Later, Mum. He’s waiting for our first dance.”
Sophie appeared, steering Emily away. “William’s getting impatient!”
Helpless, Margaret watched the wedding unfold, biding her time.
Days later, at Heathrow, William kissed Emily goodbye. “I’ll fetch the luggage,” he said, leaving them briefly alone.
Margaret ached to confess but held her tongue. Once he returned, she hugged Emily tightly before heading to departures—only to double back.
Outside Emily’s house, Sophie’s silver Mini sat parked, engine still warm. Margaret dialled her daughter.
“Flight’s cancelled, love. I’m outside—please come quickly.”
“Busy, but I’ll send William—”
“No! It must be you.”
Emily arrived minutes later. “Mum, what’s wrong?”
“Inside—William and Sophie… on the sofa.”
Emily paled. “What?”
“I heard them plotting on your wedding day. They’re after your money.”
Emily stormed in—but the pair sat innocently on the couch.
“Discussing work,” William said smoothly, producing house keys. “Our new place—meant to surprise you.”
“Liar!” Margaret hissed.
Emily wavered, torn. William spun a tale of betrayal and mistrust, threatening to leave. Crumbling, she begged forgiveness.
“You’re inventing things, Margaret,” Sophie smirked.
The room spun. Margaret collapsed, sirens wailing as paramedics rushed her to hospital.
Recovering, she urged Emily: “Check the prenup! He’s using you.”
“You’re wrong,” Emily snapped.
With a heavy heart, Margaret rang her solicitor. “Remove Emily from my will. Freeze her accounts.”
Emily stormed out, cutting ties.
Weeks passed in lonely silence—until a knock came.
“Mum…” Emily stood weeping on the doorstep.
Margaret pulled her close. “William?”
“You were right,” Emily sobbed.
Holding her trembling daughter, Margaret’s heart broke—but at last, the truth had won.
