When my son, Lucas, said he was marrying Chloe after three weeks, I worried he was too young. His wedding day turned to chaos when police arrived, revealing a betrayal that shattered him but secured his future. At our Sunday roast, Lucas was distracted, smiling at his phone. “Mom, Dad, I’m engaged,” he announced, grinning. My husband, Steve, stopped carving. “Engaged?” I gasped. “To who?” Lucas beamed. “Chloe. She’s perfect—funny, ambitious, beautiful. We met at a café.” Steve asked, “How long?” Lucas smiled. “Three weeks.” I nearly spilled my wine. “Three weeks? Lucas, you can’t know someone that fast!” He shrugged. “I knew right away.”
I tried reasoning. “You’re 19. People hide their true selves early. Marriage needs time.” Lucas’s jaw tightened. “Chloe’s genuine. She understands me.” Steve, always calm, asked, “What’s she like?” Lucas gushed, “She’s studying law, has big dreams. We’re soulmates.” I pressed, “Why rush?” He snapped, “It’s love, not a race.” We met Chloe days later. She was stunning, with a bright laugh and perfect charm, praising my cooking and asking Steve about his work. But her vague past—“I moved a lot”—felt rehearsed. Lucas said his biological dad, Brian, loved Chloe and approved. I called Brian, upset. “You’re fine with this?” He sighed. “He’s grown, Emily. He’s in love.”
I urged Lucas to slow down, suggesting college first, but he wouldn’t budge. “I love her,” he said. I hid my doubts and helped plan a small wedding six weeks out. Chloe’s parents, Richard and Diane, seemed warm at a restaurant meeting. “They’re meant to be,” Diane said. “We like simple weddings,” Richard added. Lucas agreed, but my gut twisted. On the wedding day, the hall was sweet with flowers. Lucas shone in his tux, Chloe glowing in white, though her eyes darted nervously. As the officiant spoke of commitment, two men in jeans flashed badges. “Chloe, a word,” one said. Her face froze in fear, and she bolted, her parents following.
Guests murmured as Lucas stood, dazed. I saw Brian’s satisfied grin and demanded, “What’s this?” He faced Lucas. “I’m sorry, son.” The “police” were hired actors. “A bartender knew Chloe,” Brian said. “She scams rich young men, rushing them to marry, then takes their money with fake crises or accounts.” I gasped. “Her parents?” Brian shook his head. “Her accomplices.” Lucas’s voice shook. “She’s pregnant.” Brian nodded. “Not yours. She planned to claim it was, securing her scam.” Lucas whispered, “You’re lying,” but his eyes showed doubt. I snapped at Brian, “You let it go this far?” He shrugged. “He had to see.” Steve intervened. “Focus on Lucas.” Lucas removed his ring, voice firm. “It’s done.” I held him, whispering, “This isn’t your fault.” He sighed. “I should’ve listened.” The hall emptied, cake untouched. Lucas’s smile took months to return, but he grew to trust my gut. Love can blind, but truth endures.
