I was all ready to marry my fiancé in a fantasy wedding.
My life came to a massive standstill when my mother barged into the ceremony and screamed: “STOP THE WEDDING…”
“He’s your biological father!” Her revelation ripped me apart, leaving me panting for air.
My bright New York wedding day was filled with anxieties and excitement.
My mother, who had traveled all the way from Paris, was running late, and it was almost time to start.
Zack, my soon-to-be husband, waited at the altar. I tried to remain optimistic, but the absence of Mom sapped my happiness.Then, out of nowhere, a loud scream interrupted the ceremony.
“April, honey, STOP THE WEDDING!”My mother, Heidi, appeared exhausted and agitated. She stormed in, gazing daggers at Zack.“CHRISTIAN?” she yelled, confusing everyone.“Christian? Who is that, Mom? “This is Zack,” I said, completely perplexed.
Mom was seething. “Christian, don’t play dumb with me. You shouldn’t be here, especially not under a false name.”I was feeling scared. “Mom, what’s happening? “You know Zack?”Her next words struck me like a ton of bricks. “I nearly made my flight, but I arrived just in time. April, he is not Zack. “He’s Christian, your real father,” she replied, her voice cracking.
I felt like the ground had swallowed me up. Everything turned black. I was taken aback when I opened my eyes to see myself surrounded by worried faces. “He’s… my dad?” I wailed, unable to process the fact.
Mom nodded, her eyes filled with sorrow. “I’m very sorry, honey. The man you were about to marry is your father. We believed he was gone, yet he has been here all along.”Mom took a big breath and started telling me about her past: It all started…Twenty years ago, in Chicago, I met Christian at my workplace, an art gallery. He was nice, and both of us enjoyed art. We immediately began dating, and everything seemed great, like a fantasy. But then he simply vanished, taking my savings and a magnificent Renaissance painting with him.
When I arrived home that day, the entire place was in disorder. He, as well as the painting, had disappeared. But he didn’t realize the painting he seized was a forgery; the genuine one was safe.
At the police station, I explained my position, but they claimed it would be difficult to apprehend Christian without his photo.
I’ve never had a photograph. He wanted to keep our connection covert, and I trusted him too much. I felt confined, like if the walls were closing in. I implored the cops to do more, but there seemed to be nothing they could do.A sketch artist was called. I described Christian, and soon, sketches of him were circulated in and around town. It was a small step in the right direction.
I visited the station several times. But with each visit came defeat.As days turned into weeks with no word from Christian, my determination grew. I kept telling myself I’d find him, using whatever it took.I even went to his favorite pub and sat for hours, thinking he might visit. But then I realized his love for art could be his downfall — the best way to catch him.
So I decided to set a trap with the real masterpiece, hoping it would draw him out. Despite my doubts, I was ready to try anything.
At the auction, my heart was racing. I blended in with the fancy crowd, waiting for Christian. He was there, pretending to be just another rich bidder. When he raised his paddle for the painting, I knew my trap was set.
