BEFORE I SAY I DO

A Deborah Original

Chapter One — Twenty-One Days

“Sometimes the greatest threat to a wedding isn’t cold feet. It’s the truth arriving before you reach the altar.”

Twenty-one days before her wedding, Arielle Morgan received an envelope with no return address.

She almost threw it away.

There was nothing unusual about the envelope itself. Plain white. Her name and address printed neatly across the front. No stamp from anyone she recognized. No indication of what was inside.

And Arielle had more important things to worry about.

Her dining table had disappeared beneath wedding invitations, seating charts, ribbon samples, vendor contracts, and a handwritten list titled:

THINGS THAT WILL ABSOLUTELY NOT GO WRONG.

Her younger sister, Jade, had laughed when she saw it.

“You do understand that’s basically an invitation for everything to go wrong?”

“That’s why I’m planning.”

“You can’t plan everything.”

“Watch me.”

That had always been Arielle.

Organized.

Careful.

Prepared.

At thirty-three, she had learned that life behaved better when you gave it instructions.

Her wedding to Nathan Cole had been planned with the same precision.

Ceremony at four.

Cocktail hour at five.

Dinner at six-thirty.

One hundred and twenty guests.

Ivory roses.

Champagne bridesmaid dresses.

A string quartet during the ceremony.

A DJ afterward because Nathan insisted nobody should be forced to behave elegantly all night.

They had even chosen their first dance song.

Everything was ready.

Almost.

Arielle tossed the envelope onto the counter and returned to her seating chart.

Her phone rang.

Nathan.

She smiled before answering.

“Hello, future husband.”

“Twenty-one days.”

“Are you counting?”

“Every hour.”

“That’s either romantic or concerning.”

“Definitely romantic.”

She could hear traffic behind him.

“Still at work?”

“Leaving now.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“I know.”

“Nathan.”

“I’m coming.”

“You have the cake tasting tomorrow.”

“We have the cake tasting.”

“Which means you need to actually appear.”

He laughed.

“I’ll be there.”

“You said that about the florist.”

“One mistake.”

“And the photographer.”

“Two.”

“And—”

“Arielle.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

She stopped.

Nathan had a way of doing that.

Interrupting her irritation with tenderness.

“I love you too.”

“Twenty-one days.”

She smiled.

“Twenty-one days.”

---

Nathan arrived home carrying Thai food and guilt.

Arielle opened the door.

“Peace offering?”

“Pad Thai.”

“Acceptable.”

He kissed her.

For nearly three years, Nathan had been the safest relationship Arielle had ever known.

Not perfect.

Safe.

There was a difference.

He didn’t disappear during arguments.

He didn’t punish her with silence.

He didn’t make her compete for attention.

When her father became ill the previous year, Nathan spent nights at the hospital without being asked.

When Arielle worried, Nathan listened.

When she overplanned, he teased her gently and then helped.

She trusted him.

That mattered more than butterflies.

Butterflies were temporary.

Trust was architecture.

At least that was what Arielle believed.

They ate at the kitchen counter while discussing the wedding.

“Your mother called me,” Nathan said.

Arielle groaned.

“What now?”

“She wants to know whether my uncle is wearing a tuxedo.”

“Why is she asking you?”

“Apparently you’re avoiding her.”

“I’m not avoiding her.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. I’m selectively unavailable.”

He laughed.

Arielle reached for another spring roll.

That was when Nathan noticed the envelope.

“What’s that?”

“No idea.”

“You didn’t open it?”

“I forgot.”

He picked it up.

“Secret admirer?”

“Three weeks before my wedding? Terrible timing.”

“Want me to open it?”

Arielle snatched it from him.

“Absolutely not.”

She tore along the edge.

Something glossy slid onto the counter.

A photograph.

Face down.

Nathan reached for his drink.

Arielle turned the photograph over.

And the room changed.

---

A man stood outside what appeared to be a restaurant.

His arms were around a woman.

They were kissing.

Not a friendly kiss.

Not ambiguous.

Intimate.

Familiar.

The woman’s face was partially visible.

The man’s was clear.

Arielle stopped breathing.

Nathan.

Same height.

Same dark hair.

Same jawline.

Same small indentation in his chin.

She stared at the photograph.

Then at the man sitting three feet away.

Nathan noticed her expression.

“What?”

Arielle didn’t answer.

“Arielle?”

She pushed the photograph across the counter.

Nathan looked down.

Everything left his face.

The teasing.

The smile.

The relaxed warmth.

Gone.

Arielle’s heart began pounding.

“Who is she?”

Nathan picked up the photograph.

He stared at it.

“Nathan.”

He didn’t answer.

“Who. Is. She?”

His eyes moved to Arielle.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was in the envelope.”

“Who sent it?”

“There’s no name.”

He turned the photograph over.

Nothing.

Arielle stood.

“When was this?”

Nathan looked at the picture again.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act confused.”

“I am confused.”

She laughed once.

Sharp.

“You’re kissing another woman.”

“No, I’m not.”

Arielle stared at him.

“What?”

“That’s not me.”

The answer was so ridiculous that for a moment she thought she’d misheard him.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not me.”

She took the photograph from his hand.

“Nathan, I am looking at your face.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t insult me.”

“I’m not.”

She held the picture beside him.

“You expect me to believe that’s somebody else?”

“Yes.”

Her anger rose instantly.

“Wow.”

“Arielle—”

“No. Do not Arielle me.”

She walked away.

Nathan followed.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“That man has your face!”

“I know.”

“Your hair.”

“I know.”

“Your body.”

“I know.”

“Your—”

“I have a brother.”

Arielle stopped.

Nathan did too.

The apartment became completely silent.

She slowly turned around.

“What?”

Nathan’s face had changed again.

Not guilt.

Fear.

“I have a brother.”

“I’ve met your brother.”

“Not Daniel.”

Arielle stared.

Nathan swallowed.

“A twin.”

---

She laughed.

She couldn’t help it.

Not because anything was funny.

Because the alternative was screaming.

“You have an identical twin brother.”

“Yes.”

“And in three years you’ve never thought to mention him?”

Nathan said nothing.

“Three years.”

“I know.”

“We’re getting married in twenty-one days.”

“I know.”

“I know your mother’s blood pressure medication.”

“Arielle—”

“I know which aunt you don’t speak to. I know your father’s first wife cheated on him. I know your cousin borrowed eight thousand dollars and never paid you back. I know you wet the bed until you were seven.”

Nathan closed his eyes.

“That last one wasn’t necessary.”

“You have an identical twin!”

“I know.”

“Stop saying you know!”

She threw the photograph onto the counter.

“What’s his name?”

Nathan hesitated.

That hesitation frightened her more than the photograph.

“What’s his name?”

“Isaac.”

“Where is Isaac?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“We haven’t spoken in years.”

“Why?”

Nathan looked away.

Arielle’s stomach tightened.

“Why haven’t you spoken?”

“It’s complicated.”

She stared at him.

Twenty-one days.

Flowers.

Cake.

Dress.

Guests.

Vows.

And suddenly there was an identical twin brother her fiancé had erased from his life.

Arielle picked up the photograph.

“Who is the woman?”

Nathan looked at it.

“I don’t know.”

“Look carefully.”

“I am.”

“You’ve never seen her?”

“No.”

She studied his face.

She knew when Nathan was nervous.

His jaw tightened.

His left hand moved toward his watch.

Both were happening.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You know something.”

Nathan looked toward the window.

Arielle’s voice softened.

“Nathan.”

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, she saw something she had never seen before.

Shame.

“The woman isn’t the problem.”

Arielle felt cold.

“Then what is?”

Nathan looked at the photograph.

“My brother.”

---

That night, Arielle slept in the guest room.

Nathan didn’t argue.

At 2:14 a.m., she was still awake.

She searched his name.

Then:

Isaac Cole.

Nothing obvious.

She added Nathan’s hometown.

Several results appeared.

Then one stopped her.

An old newspaper article.

LOCAL BROTHERS QUESTIONED FOLLOWING FATAL ACCIDENT

Arielle opened it.

The article was twelve years old.

Two names appeared in the first paragraph.

Nathan Cole, 24, and his twin brother, Isaac Cole, 24…

Arielle sat upright.

Fatal accident.

She kept reading.

A twenty-two-year-old woman had died.

No charges were ultimately filed against Nathan.

But Isaac Cole had disappeared before investigators completed their inquiry.

Arielle’s hands began trembling.

She scrolled further.

At the bottom was a photograph.

Nathan and Isaac.

Identical.

Beneath it was another name.

The woman who died.

Elena Matthews.

Arielle stared.

She had heard that name before.

She couldn’t remember where.

Then she looked at the photograph from the envelope again.

There was writing she hadn’t noticed along the lower edge.

A date.

Six months earlier.

And beneath it, four handwritten words:

ASK NATHAN ABOUT ELENA.

---

Chapter Two — The Brother He Buried

“There are people we lose to death. And there are people we bury because remembering them costs too much.”

Nathan was sitting in the living room when Arielle emerged at seven the next morning.

He hadn’t slept.

Neither had she.

She placed her phone on the coffee table.

The article was open.

Nathan looked at it.

His shoulders dropped.

“Tell me everything.”

He rubbed both hands over his face.

“Can we have coffee first?”

“No.”

“Arielle—”

“No coffee. No shower. No work. No cake tasting.”

She sat across from him.

“Who was Elena Matthews?”

Nathan became still.

“I knew you’d find it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“She was Isaac’s girlfriend.”

“She died.”

“Yes.”

“In a car accident.”

“Yes.”

“You were both questioned.”

Nathan nodded.

“Why?”

He looked at the floor.

“Because all three of us were together that night.”

Arielle waited.

Nathan began slowly.

Isaac had always been reckless.

Nathan had always been responsible.

At least that was how their family described them.

Isaac drank more.

Fought more.

Took risks.

Nathan cleaned up afterward.

“Elena was good for him,” Nathan said.

“You liked her?”

“Everybody did.”

“What happened?”

Nathan’s eyes filled.

“We were at a party.”

“All three of you?”

“Yes.”

“Who was driving?”

Nathan didn’t answer.

Arielle’s stomach tightened.

“Who was driving, Nathan?”

“Isaac.”

“Was he drinking?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“Did you let him drive?”

Nathan looked at her.

“I was drunk too.”

Arielle sat back.

Nathan continued.

They argued.

Elena begged Isaac to slow down.

Nathan remembered headlights.

A curve.

The car leaving the road.

Then nothing.

“When I woke up, Elena was dead.”

Arielle swallowed.

“Isaac?”

“Gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“He wasn’t at the car.”

“Was he injured?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never saw him again?”

Nathan looked away.

“Not exactly.”

There it was.

Another omission.

“When?”

“Two days later.”

Arielle stared.

“The article says police couldn’t find him.”

“I know.”

“You saw him.”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell police?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Nathan’s voice cracked.

“Because he was my brother.”

---

Isaac came to Nathan in the middle of the night.

Bruised.

Bleeding.

Terrified.

He said Elena’s family would destroy him.

He said prison would destroy him.

He begged Nathan for money.

Nathan gave it to him.

“How much?”

“Five thousand.”

“And he disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“For twelve years?”

Nathan nodded.

Arielle picked up the photograph.

“Then this is Isaac.”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

Nathan studied it.

“There’s one difference.”

“What?”

Nathan pointed toward the man’s right hand.

A faint scar crossed the thumb.

“Isaac got that when we were fourteen.”

Arielle looked.

Nathan showed his own hand.

No scar.

The man in the photograph was Isaac.

Relief came.

Small.

Temporary.

Nathan hadn’t cheated.

But the relief was immediately replaced by something else.

Her fiancé had hidden an entire human being.

A fatal accident.

A police investigation.

Helping someone evade authorities.

Arielle whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Nathan’s eyes filled.

“Because I was ashamed.”

“Of Isaac?”

“Of myself.”

She looked at him.

“I helped him run.”

“Yes.”

“I lied to police.”

“Yes.”

“You were going to marry me without telling me any of this.”

Nathan had no defense.

That was almost worse.

---

The cake tasting was canceled.

Arielle’s mother called twice.

Jade called four times.

Arielle answered none of them.

By noon, Nathan had gone to work because Arielle asked him to leave.

She needed space.

She sat alone staring at the photograph.

Who sent it?

If Isaac had returned six months ago, why hadn’t Nathan known?

And who was the woman?

She enlarged the image on her phone.

The woman’s face was partly turned.

Long dark hair.

A small tattoo near her wrist.

Arielle zoomed further.

Something about her seemed familiar.

Then her phone rang.

Unknown number.

Arielle hesitated.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice.

“Did you get the picture?”

Her heart jumped.

“Who is this?”

“You already know.”

Arielle stood.

“Isaac?”

Silence.

Then:

“So Nathan finally told you about me.”

Her mouth went dry.

“Where are you?”

“That’s not important.”

“Did you send the photograph?”

“No.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who is the woman?”

Isaac laughed softly.

“That’s why I’m calling.”

Arielle’s grip tightened.

“Why?”

“Because before you marry my brother, you need to know who she is.”

“Nathan says he doesn’t know her.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Then why should I care?”

Isaac became quiet.

When he spoke again, the humor was gone.

“Because she knows Nathan.”

Arielle frowned.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It will.”

“Tell me her name.”

Isaac paused.

“Rachel Matthews.”

Arielle’s stomach dropped.

Matthews.

“Elena?”

“Her younger sister.”

Arielle stopped breathing.

The woman Isaac had been kissing six months earlier was the sister of the woman who died in his car twelve years ago.

“Why are you with her?”

“That’s complicated.”

Arielle almost screamed.

“I am sick of that word.”

“I know.”

“Then explain.”

“I can’t over the phone.”

“Why?”

“Because Rachel thinks Nathan killed Elena.”

Arielle froze.

“What?”

Isaac continued.

“And she’s spent the last year trying to prove it.”

---

Chapter Three — The Woman in the Photograph

“The most dangerous secrets are not the ones everyone agrees to hide. They are the ones everyone remembers differently.”

Arielle met Isaac without telling Nathan.

She knew it was wrong.

She went anyway.

Isaac chose a diner nearly an hour outside the city.

Public.

Busy.

Safe.

Arielle arrived early.

At 12:07, a man walked through the door.

Her body reacted before her mind did.

Nathan.

She nearly stood.

Then she saw the scar.

Isaac.

Seeing him in person was unsettling.

Same walk.

Same height.

Same face.

But not the same man.

Nathan’s energy was controlled.

Isaac seemed to carry restlessness in his body.

He sat opposite her.

“Wow.”

Arielle frowned.

“What?”

“He really is marrying you.”

“You’ve seen pictures?”

Isaac smiled.

“I’ve been keeping track.”

That disturbed her.

“Why?”

“Because Nathan’s my brother.”

“You disappeared for twelve years.”

“I had reasons.”

“Elena?”

His smile vanished.

“Among other things.”

Arielle placed the photograph on the table.

“Start talking.”

---

Isaac claimed the police had gotten the accident wrong.

He had been driving earlier that evening.

But not when the car crashed.

Arielle stared at him.

“Nathan says you were driving.”

“I know.”

“So one of you is lying.”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

Isaac leaned back.

“What do you think?”

“I’ve known you for four minutes.”

“Exactly.”

“Why would Nathan lie?”

“To protect himself.”

“Why would you lie?”

“Same reason.”

Arielle hated that answer.

“Who was driving?”

Isaac looked directly at her.

“Nathan.”

Arielle felt something twist inside her.

“No.”

“You asked.”

“Do you have proof?”

“No.”

“Then why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn’t.”

She blinked.

Isaac continued.

“You shouldn’t believe Nathan either.”

---

He described the night differently.

Nathan and Elena had argued.

Not Isaac and Elena.

According to Isaac, Elena had discovered something about Nathan.

“What?”

“He was sleeping with her.”

Arielle stared.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Isaac smiled sadly.

“That’s exactly what I said.”

Arielle pushed her chair back slightly.

“Nathan told me Elena was good for you.”

“She was.”

“You’re saying she cheated with your twin brother?”

“I’m saying my brother and my girlfriend betrayed me.”

“Did you confront them?”

“That night.”

“Then what?”

“We fought.”

“Who drove?”

“Nathan.”

“Why would police think it was you?”

“Because Nathan told them.”

Arielle’s stomach turned.

Isaac continued.

“I left the crash site because I panicked. By the time I came back, Nathan had already given them his version.”

“But you visited him two days later.”

Isaac nodded.

“To tell him I knew.”

“And he gave you five thousand dollars.”

Isaac laughed.

“He didn’t give me money to help me.”

“Then why?”

“To keep me quiet.”

Arielle stood.

“I’m leaving.”

Isaac didn’t stop her.

“Ask him about the necklace.”

She froze.

“What necklace?”

“Elena wore a gold necklace every day. Small cross.”

Arielle turned.

“What about it?”

“It disappeared after the accident.”

“So?”

“Rachel found it six months ago.”

Arielle’s heart began pounding.

“Where?”

Isaac held her gaze.

“In Nathan’s mother’s house.”

---

Arielle sat again.

Slowly.

“How would Rachel get into his mother’s house?”

“She didn’t.”

“Then how—”

“His mother gave it to a charity shop when she was clearing old boxes.”

Isaac explained.

Rachel happened to see it online among donated jewelry.

She recognized the engraving on the back.

E.M. — Always.

She bought it.

Then she started investigating.

“That’s how I met her,” Isaac said.

“Rachel contacted you?”

“Yes.”

“Why kiss her?”

Isaac looked uncomfortable for the first time.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Arielle almost laughed.

“Wonderful.”

“She hated me when we met.”

“Apparently she recovered.”

“Arielle.”

“What?”

“Rachel isn’t trying to destroy your wedding.”

“Then who sent the photograph?”

“I don’t know.”

Arielle stared at him.

“Why come back now?”

Isaac looked toward the window.

“Because Rachel found something else.”

“What?”

He hesitated.

Arielle leaned forward.

“What did she find?”

“A voicemail.”

“From Elena?”

“Yes.”

“From when?”

“The night she died.”

Arielle stopped breathing.

Isaac reached into his pocket.

He placed an old phone on the table.

“Rachel gave me a copy.”

“What’s on it?”

Isaac looked at her.

“You should hear it yourself.”

He pressed play.

Static.

Background music.

Then a young woman’s frightened voice.

“Rachel, call me when you get this. Something happened, and I need to tell you before Nathan convinces everyone I’m crazy.”

Arielle’s hands went cold.

The recording continued.

“Isaac knows about us.”

A pause.

Crying.

“Nathan says he’ll fix it, but he’s angry. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Another pause.

Then Elena whispered:

“If something happens tonight, it wasn’t Isaac.”

The recording ended.

Arielle stared at the phone.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t reconcile the voice she’d just heard with the man she’d planned to marry in eighteen days.

“Why didn’t Rachel take this to police?”

“She did.”

“And?”

“The recording is twelve years old. It proves Elena was afraid. It doesn’t prove who was driving or what caused the crash.”

Arielle looked at Isaac.

“But you said she found something else.”

Isaac’s expression changed.

“She did.”

He reached into his jacket.

This time he removed a small clear evidence bag.

Inside was a key.

Arielle frowned.

“What is that?”

“Elena rented a storage unit three days before she died.”

“What’s inside?”

“We don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Because Rachel only found the key last week.”

Arielle stared at him.

“Then go open it.”

Isaac didn’t move.

“That’s the problem.”

“What problem?”

“The storage company closed years ago. Everything abandoned was transferred to a warehouse.”

“And?”

“Rachel traced the unit.”

Arielle waited.

Isaac lowered his voice.

“Someone collected the contents six months after Elena died.”

“Who?”

Isaac slid a photocopied release form across the table.

Arielle looked down.

One name appeared beside the signature.

Nathan Cole.

Her fiancé.

---

Arielle left the diner without saying goodbye.

She drove for twenty minutes before realizing she had no idea where she was going.

Eventually she pulled into a church parking lot.

She turned off the engine.

Then she cried.

Not because she believed Isaac.

Not completely.

And not because she no longer believed Nathan.

That was the problem.

She didn’t know whom to believe.

The man she loved had told her one version.

His identical twin had told her another.

A dead woman had left behind a third.

And eighteen days from now, Arielle was supposed to stand before God, her family, and everyone she loved and promise the rest of her life to one of them.

Her phone rang.

Nathan.

She watched it.

Didn’t answer.

It rang again.

Then a message.

Where are you? We need to talk.

Another.

Isaac contacted me.

Arielle sat upright.

How?

Before she could type, another message appeared.

Please don’t believe anything he tells you until you hear the whole story.

Then another.

Especially about Elena.

Arielle stared at the screen.

Her phone rang again.

This time she answered.

“Nathan.”

“Where are you?”

“Why?”

“I need to see you.”

“Did you sleep with Elena?”

Silence.

That was all it took.

Arielle closed her eyes.

“Nathan.”

His voice changed.

“Arielle, listen to me.”

She began crying.

“Did you sleep with your brother’s girlfriend?”

“It happened once.”

Arielle covered her mouth.

Nathan continued quickly.

“It was a mistake. Isaac found out. That’s why we fought that night.”

“Who was driving?”

Silence again.

Arielle’s entire body went cold.

“Who was driving the car when Elena died?”

Nathan breathed into the phone.

Then said:

“I can’t tell you over the phone.”

Arielle laughed through her tears.

“Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“Because there’s more.”

“More than sleeping with your brother’s girlfriend and lying to me about your twin brother for three years?”

“Yes.”

Arielle stopped crying.

“What?”

Nathan’s next words came slowly.

“Elena wasn’t the only person who died because of what happened that night.”

Arielle’s heart slammed against her chest.

“The article says one fatality.”

“I know.”

“What are you talking about?”

Nathan became silent.

Then:

“Come home.”

Arielle stared through the windshield.

“No.”

“Arielle.”

“Tell me now.”

“I can’t.”

“Then the wedding is off.”

Nathan stopped breathing.

Arielle surprised herself with the words.

But once spoken, they felt right.

Not forever.

Not yet.

But she would not walk toward an altar while walking backward into the truth.

“Arielle, please.”

“Eighteen days, Nathan.”

“What?”

“We were supposed to get married in eighteen days.”

She wiped her face.

“Now you have eighteen days to give me one reason why I still should.”

She ended the call.

For several seconds, she sat completely still.

Then her phone vibrated.

Not Nathan.

Unknown number.

A photograph downloaded.

Arielle opened it.

It showed Nathan standing beside Elena.

The date stamp was from the night of the accident.

Elena appeared pregnant.

Very pregnant.

Arielle’s breath caught.

Beneath the photograph was a message.

Isaac doesn’t know everything either.

A second message followed.

Ask Nathan whose baby Elena was carrying.

---

End of Chapter Three

End of Complimentary Preview

Eighteen days before her wedding, Arielle thought the greatest threat to her future was a photograph of her fiancé kissing another woman.

She was wrong.

Nathan has a twin brother he erased from his life.

A woman died twelve years ago.

Both brothers accuse the other of lying.

And now Arielle has discovered that Elena Matthews was carrying a child when she died.

The question is no longer simply whether Nathan is the man Arielle should marry.

It’s what Nathan did the night Elena died—and how far someone has gone to keep it buried.

Unlock Before I Say I Do to continue with Chapter Four: The Baby in the Photograph.