The Bride’s Groom Was My Ex – And a Con Man
It was a bright and busy morning—the biggest day of my career so far. I was the event manager for a luxurious wedding, hired by a wealthy woman named Catherine. The bride wanted a magical, unforgettable celebration, and I had worked with her for months to make it happen.
I’m Amanda, 28 years old, and I organize fancy events for a living. I had flown two hours just to be here and make sure everything went smoothly. But nothing could’ve prepared me for what was about to happen.
As the groom arrived and stepped out of the limo, my heart nearly stopped.
It was him.
It was John.
The man I had loved. The man I was supposed to marry. The man who disappeared six months ago… with all my money.
Catherine, the bride, was 38, the heir to a giant clothing company. She wanted nothing but the best, and she was willing to pay for it. We had talked often about decorations, food, lighting, and entertainment.
But the groom? I had never met him.
“My fiancé trusts my vision,” Catherine told me once, brushing a curl behind her ear. “He’s so busy with work, so he prefers I handle the details. He’s okay with everything I decide.”
It felt strange. I had managed dozens of weddings, and even the busiest grooms at least showed up once. So I asked gently, “Are you sure he doesn’t want to pick the wine or music?”
Catherine just smiled. “He says he’ll love whatever I choose.”
Still, it bothered me. As the wedding approached, I grew more curious about this mystery man—Arnold, she called him.
The day of the wedding was a dream: ivory tablecloths, gold decorations, crystal glasses. I directed every worker with care.
“Stack the dessert plates neatly over there,” I said. “And double-check the glass count with the catering team. Everything has to be perfect.”
By the afternoon, soft music played as the guests filled the venue. Then the emcee called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the groom, Mr. Arnold!”
Everyone turned. A black limo pulled up.
The door opened.
And John stepped out.
Yes, my John.
He looked sharp in a tuxedo, just as handsome as ever—but my blood turned cold. This wasn’t a man I could smile at anymore. He was a thief. A liar.
The last time I had seen him, he left me with nothing.
Our eyes met. He looked directly at me. But… nothing. No shock. No guilt. Just a calm, cold look like I was a stranger. It crushed me.
I remembered everything, all at once—how he left me broke, the empty closet, the drained bank accounts. And now, here he was. Getting married again. Under a new name. Living another lie.
I had to stop him.
Six Months Ago…
We were in our cozy little bedroom, wrapped in soft blankets, wedding planning late into the night.
“How’s everything going?” I asked, smiling. “You’ve been handling most of the bookings, right?”
John nodded. “Venue’s confirmed. Caterers, band, decorators—all paid.”
I frowned. “Wait, with what money?”
He paused. “I used all of it. Even my savings. I had to. My project hit a bump—payment’s delayed. I’ll get it soon.”
I trusted him. We were in love. So when he asked, “Can you sign a power of attorney in my name? It’ll make it easier to move money around for wedding payments,” I said yes.
“I got confirmation from the bank. The account’s in your name, but I can manage it now,” he told me later.
“Thank you, Amanda,” he said, kissing my hand. “This wedding will be everything we dreamed.”
That night, I fell asleep in his arms.
The next morning, he was gone.
The bed was cold. His toothbrush was missing. His shoes. His clothes. Everything.
I walked through the apartment, heart racing. “John?” I called out. No answer.
Then I saw it—muddy footprints leading to the closet. It was empty.
My phone buzzed. I looked down. Two notifications from the bank:
$38,000 withdrawn.
$23,000 withdrawn.
I tried to call him—voicemail. Again and again. Nothing.
I whispered to myself, “He wouldn’t do this to me… would he?”
But he had.
I walked to the police station, shaking. At the desk, I whispered, “I need to report a theft.”
In the small office, Officer Harris listened as I told him everything.
“My fiancé—his name is John Freeman—he took everything. I gave him power of attorney to manage wedding payments. But he’s disappeared with the money.”
Officer Harris sighed. “I’ll be honest, Amanda. Because you gave him legal access to your accounts, this may not count as theft. But we’ll open a case. Just… don’t expect an easy outcome.”
He handed me his card. I walked out, numb.
John was gone. And I was left behind.
Back to the Wedding…
Now, here he was—smiling, laughing, pretending to be someone else. Arnold. A rich businessman. Catherine’s future husband.
I couldn’t stay quiet.
I stormed toward him. He turned and saw me. His smile dropped.
SLAP!
The sound echoed. Everyone stared.
“You’re a liar and a thief!” I shouted. “You robbed me. Left me with nothing!”
People gasped. John—Arnold—stepped back, eyes wide.
“I don’t know this woman,” he said calmly. “She’s clearly confused.”
I turned to Catherine. “Catherine, please listen to me. This man is not who he says he is. His real name is John. He was my fiancé. He took my money, then disappeared!”
Arnold laughed nervously. “She’s mentally unstable. Someone call security.”
I snapped, “Maybe call Interpol instead? How many names do you have, John?”
Just then, a tall man in uniform stepped forward. “That’s enough,” he said. “I’m Peter Greenwood. I’m the chief of police here—and the bride’s brother. I know Arnold. He’s a good man. Please leave, ma’am.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “He’s fooling you all.”
But they didn’t believe me.
I left, humiliated but determined. I would stop him.
At a small café nearby, I sat with my coffee, thinking. Catherine had once mentioned a long-lost relative—her grandmother’s sister, Linda. She hadn’t seen her in years.
What if Linda came to the wedding?
I called Carla, a makeup artist I trusted. “I need to look like a 90-year-old woman,” I told her.
“Give me one hour,” she said.
Soon, Carla worked her magic—makeup, wig, clothes, glasses. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I was Linda now.
I returned to the venue, limping slightly and holding a small purse.
“My name is Linda,” I told the guards. “I believe I’m expected.”
They frowned. “You’re not on the list.”
“Oh dear, surely Catherine knows I’m here.”
Minutes later, Catherine came out.
“Can I help you?” she asked kindly.
I looked at her with watery eyes. “Don’t you recognize your grandmother’s sister? Linda?”
Her eyes widened. “Grandma Linda? I… I haven’t seen you since I was a child!”
We hugged, and she led me in.
Inside, I asked for the microphone. The crowd quieted as I shuffled up.
“Hello everyone,” I said, “I am so honored to be part of this beautiful celebration. I have brought with me a family treasure.”
I pulled out a glittering fake diamond. “This gem is worth $800,000. And I want Catherine to keep it safe. I’ll return it to the vault soon, but it belongs with her.”
Everyone clapped.
Except Arnold. He stared at the diamond like a hawk.
Two hours later, the lights went out.
I knew it. He made his move.
I had left the diamond in my purse on a nearby table. Hiding behind the curtains, I waited.
Arnold crept in quietly and grabbed the purse. As he turned to run—
CRACK!
I hit him with a heavy glass vase.
He collapsed.
Seconds later, police lights flashed. Catherine’s brother rushed in.
“You were right,” he said breathlessly. “We’ve arrested him. He had three fake IDs in his wallet.”
Catherine stood nearby, stunned. “Amanda?” she asked softly.
I nodded. “I had to stop him before he hurt you too.”
One Week Later
Catherine showed up at my door, holding flowers.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said. “You saved me.”
“I just didn’t want him to destroy another life.”
She smiled. “Actually… I’d like you to work for me. As my personal assistant. I trust you more than anyone now.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “I’d be honored.”
And just like that, from heartbreak and betrayal, I found strength, truth—and a brand new beginning.
