Richard Cole wanted to humiliate his ex-girlfriend at his fancy wedding. He thought she would stand on that stage looking broken and desperate, singing for money while he celebrated with his new bride. He wanted everyone to see how far he had risen and how low she had fallen.
But when Margaret Williams opened her mouth to sing, what came out changed everything. The song she sang exposed secrets that turned his perfect wedding into a disaster. And that was just the beginning.
Once upon a time in a busy city filled with tall buildings and expensive cars, there lived a man named Richard Cole. He was a wealthy businessman in his early 30s.
Everyone in the city knew him as the young millionaire who owned Cole Industries, a big company that made computer software. Richard wore designer suits that cost more than most people’s monthly rent. He drove a silver Mercedes that sparkled like a diamond.
And he walked with his chin up high as if ordinary people were beneath him. Richard was handsome, there was no denying that. He had sharp features, perfectly styled hair, and a smile that he used like a weapon to get what he wanted.
But his handsomeness was cold, like a beautiful statue made of ice. Everything about Richard was about image. About looking perfect.
About being admired and envied. He lived in a penthouse apartment on the 20th floor with windows so big you could see the whole city. His walls were decorated with expensive paintings.
His closet was filled with shoes that cost hundreds of dollars each. But despite all this wealth and all this beauty, there was something missing in Richard’s heart. Something he had thrown away like trash a year ago.
Her name was Margaret Williams. Margaret Williams was everything Richard was not. Where he was cold she was warm.
Where he was proud she was humble. Where he cared about money and status she cared about kindness and truth. Margaret was a singer with a voice so beautiful it could make you cry.
Not because it was perfect like the singers on the radio. No Margaret’s voice was special because it carried real emotion. When she sang you could feel everything she felt.
Her joy, her pain, her hope, her heartbreak. It was like her soul came out through the music. She was 28 years old with kind brown eyes and a gentle smile.
She wasn’t rich. She didn’t wear fancy clothes or carry expensive handbags. Margaret lived in a small apartment in a quiet neighborhood where children played in the streets and neighbors knew each other’s names.
Her furniture was old but clean. Her walls were bare except for a few family photos. But somehow her little home felt warmer than Richard’s expensive penthouse ever did.
Right now on this cool October evening, Margaret sat on her worn couch with one hand resting on her pregnant belly. She was six months along and her baby was growing strong inside her. Sometimes the baby kicked and Margaret would smile and talk softly to her little one.
We’re going to be okay, she whispered rubbing her belly gently. I promise you sweet baby. Mama’s going to take care of you.
But even as she said these words, Margaret felt afraid. Money was running out. Her small singing jobs at restaurants and birthday parties barely paid the rent.
She was already two weeks late on her electricity bill. Her refrigerator held only a few eggs, some bread and a carton of milk. And soon, very soon, there would be a baby who needed diapers, clothes, a crib and so much more.
Margaret tried not to think about Richard. She tried not to remember how he had abandoned her when she told him about the pregnancy. How he had looked at her with disgust and said those terrible words.
You’re not good enough for my world anymore. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It’s me, called a cheerful voice.
Margaret smiled. That was Vivian her best friend since high school. Vivian burst through the door carrying two bags of groceries and wearing her usual bright smile.
Vivian worked at a bookstore downtown, and though she didn’t earn much money either, she always found ways to help Margaret. You didn’t have to bring food again, Margaret said, though gratitude filled her voice. Girl please, Vivian said, setting the bags on the small kitchen counter.
You’re eating for two now. Besides, what are best friends for if not to make sure you and my future godchild are well fed? Vivian unpacked fresh vegetables, fruit, chicken and rice. Margaret’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
I don’t know what I’d do without you, Margaret whispered. Vivian pulled her into a warm hug, careful not to squeeze her pregnant belly. You’re never going to have to find out.
We’re in this together remember? Two days later, Margaret’s phone rang while she was washing dishes in her tiny kitchen. She dried her hands and answered. Hello? Is this Margaret Williams the singer? A woman’s voice very professional and businesslike.
Yes this is she. Wonderful. My name is Patricia Monroe.
I’m an event planner for elite weddings and corporate events. I’ve heard wonderful things about your voice and I have a job opportunity for you. Margaret’s heart started beating faster.
Elite weddings meant good money. I’m listening, Margaret said carefully. I’m organizing a luxury wedding at the Grand Pearl Hotel next month.
It’s going to be quite the event. 300 guests, live orchestra, celebrity chef. The couple wants a solo vocalist to perform during the ceremony and at the reception.
The pay is $3,000 for the evening. Margaret nearly dropped the phone. $3,000.
That was more money than she had seen in six months. With that money she could pay all her overdue bills by baby supplies and still have some left over for emergencies. That’s, that’s very generous, Margaret said, her voice shaking with hope.
Yes I’m definitely interested. Excellent. I’ll email you all the details, venue information, dress code, song selections and timing.
The wedding is on November 15th. Does that work for you? Yes absolutely. They talked for a few more minutes about logistics and then Patricia ended the call.
Margaret sat down on her couch hardly believing her luck. This was exactly what she needed. This was the miracle she had been praying for.
Finally something good was happening. The email arrived 30 minutes later. Margaret opened it eagerly on her old laptop, ready to read about this wonderful opportunity.
And then her whole world stopped. Wedding performance contract. Event.
The marriage celebration of Mr. Richard Cole and Ms. Claire Stevens. Date, November 15th. Venue, Grand Pearl Hotel Crystal Ballroom.
Margaret stared at the screen, her hands frozen on the keyboard. She read the names again. And again.
And again. Richard Cole. Or Richard.
The man who had abandoned her. The father of her unborn child. The person who had broken her heart into a thousand pieces.
He was getting married. And somehow, impossibly, she had been hired to sing at his wedding. Margaret slammed her laptop shut and jumped up from the couch as if the computer had burned her.
Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. Her hands trembled. Her breath came in short painful gasps.
No no no, she whispered to herself pacing back and forth in her small living room. This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening.
She opened the laptop again hoping she had read it wrong. But there it was clear as daylight. Richard Cole and Claire Stevens.
Claire Stevens. Margaret had heard that name before. Claire was the daughter of a famous businessman…
