The Escape

Richard worked fast, hands shaking slightly as he secured the dress with pins. He had never fixed a gown before—never even held one this close—but now wasn't the time to hesitate.

The guard returned, expression unreadable. "Is it done?"

Richard forced a confident nod. "Yeah. Here."

The guard took the dress from his hands and knocked on the door to Jane's changing room.

Jane cracked the door open just enough to take it. The guard's voice was firm. "Miss, we have only five minutes. Please hurry."

She forced a small, polite smile and nodded before closing the door.

Her hands trembled as she slipped into the body suit, then carefully pulled the wedding gown over it.

She stepped in front of the mirror, her heart pounding. The dress fit well enough, but she immediately noticed Richard's handiwork—or lack thereof. The pins were haphazardly placed, sticking out in random directions.

A real disaster.

She let out a small, nervous laugh. Some crappy work you did, Richard.

Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the door.

Richard was gone.

Had the guards kicked him out?

Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, her hand resting on her chest where the small glass bottle was hidden beneath the fabric.

As Jane approached the wedding hall, her steps faltered.

Two guards blocked her path.

She froze.

One of them narrowed his eyes. "Ms. Jane, are you alright?"

Her pulse roared in her ears. His gaze flickered to her hand—right where the hidden bottle was.

She panicked. Did he see it?

Then, a voice cut through the tension.

"Where are you looking?"

Maria.

She stepped beside Jane, her eyes sharp as she glared at the guard.

The man instantly backed off. "Uh… Mmm. I'm sorry, Ms. Jane."

Maria grabbed Jane's hand. "Let's go."

Jane exhaled shakily, letting Maria lead her forward.

She barely had time to process what was happening.

Maria was here. But where had she been all this time?

Something about her looked off—her eyes darted around, her fingers gripping Jane's arm too tightly.

She was nervous.

Jane clenched her jaw.

The plan was about to begin.

They reached the entrance to the wedding hall. Maria gave her a nudge.

The signal.

Jane quickly slid her hand inside her dress, pulled out the bottle, and let it fall to the floor.

The glass shattered.

A thick, white smoke erupted instantly, filling the corridor.

The guards shouted in confusion, backing away as the haze spread.

A figure moved through the smoke.

The dupe.

She stepped into Jane's place seamlessly, her veil covering her face.

Jane barely had time to react before the dupe discreetly pushed her toward the blind spot in the hallway.

She stumbled back, pressing against the cold wall.

Hidden.

The guards quickly surrounded the dupe, their protective instincts kicking in.

"Ms. Jane, are you alright?" one of them asked.

The fake Jane coughed weakly, nodding.

Maria wrapped a hand around the dupe's arm, guiding her forward.

No one questioned them.

The smoke still lingered as the grand doors to the wedding hall opened.

Music played.

Jane held her breath.

The dupe walked slowly down the aisle, Maria at her side.

Paul stood at the far end, dressed immaculately, his eyes locked on the figure in white.

Even through the veil, he admired his bride.

His chosen one.

The dupe never lifted her head, moving carefully, precisely.

No mistakes.

It was time.

Jane yanked the heavy wedding gown off, throwing it aside.

Heart pounding, she sprinted in the opposite direction, ducking behind a corner and slipping through a side exit.

Her lungs burned, but she didn't stop.

The parking lot was empty—just as planned.

Richard's car.

She spotted it instantly, its dark exterior standing out against the pale evening light.

Fumbling, she yanked the door open and slid inside.

Her hands trembled as she shoved the key into the ignition.

Please start. Please start.

The engine roared to life.

She barely glanced back before slamming her foot on the gas.

The mansion shrank in the rearview mirror.

She was free.

She was out.

Jane sucked in sharp breaths, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Her eyes flicked to the mirrors—no one followed.

She kept driving, punching in Richard's home address with shaking fingers.

She didn't look back.

She couldn't.

She had made it.