My Wedding, My Killer, His Betrayal

“I don't remember how I got here. One moment, a crushing weight, the roar of a furious crowd, a sharp, final pain. The next, nothing. Then, a flicker. A cold, sharp light that formed a heavy, cream-colored cardstock. Gold letters shimmered: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Ethan Davis and Mia Thompson. Ethan Davis. My uncle. The man who raised me, mentored me, then destroyed me. Mia Thompson. That' s my name. The invitation dissolved. I landed, an unseen observer, in a sun-drenched garden. At the altar, under a floral arch, stood Ethan. Then the music swelled. The bride walked down the aisle. The woman in the white dress was me. She had my face, my dark hair, even the tiny mole above my lip. But her smile was too sharp, her gaze too possessive. It was Chloe Miller. The scene ripped away. I was hurled back to the day my life ended. On a stage, my masterpiece, "Nexus," projected behind me. "This is a lie!" Chloe' s voice sliced through the applause. "She stole it! Nexus is my work!" The crowd turned savage. Cameras flashed. I sought Ethan, the one person who knew the truth. "Ethan, tell them," I begged, my voice a pathetic whisper. "Tell them the truth." He looked at me. Guilt, then cold, calculated resolve. He stepped to the microphone. "I am deeply disappointed. Our company is built on integrity. We cannot and will not tolerate intellectual theft." My death sentence. The world exploded. "Thief!" "Fraud!" Hands grabbed, tearing at my clothes. Rage-contorted faces. I fell. The last thing I saw was Ethan turning his back, his arm around Chloe, as the mob swallowed me whole. Now, a ghost at my own wedding. My uncle was marrying my murderer. The invitation said he was marrying me. The irony was a bitter taste. They wouldn't even let me rest. They' d stolen my work, my reputation, my life. Now, my very face. But a new feeling solidified within my spectral form. Rage. They would not get their happy ending. I would burn their perfect world to the ground.”