On my wedding day, my mother-in-law handed me a note — and I vanished for 15 years

My eyes locked onto my mother-in-law, whose face looked as if she had just seen a ghost. In her trembling hand, a small envelope quivered, and her wide eyes revealed silent panic. The loud music in the grand hall drowned out all other sounds, creating a bubble of privacy between us.

That sunny May morning was supposed to be perfect. My fiancé Sergei’s ancestral mansion stood immaculate, ready to welcome the guests. Waiters arranged crystal glasses with military precision, and the air was rich with the scent of fresh roses and the subtle aroma of fine champagne. Gilded portraits on the walls watched over everything with stern, silent eyes.

“Anastasia, have you noticed how strange Sergei’s been acting today?” my mother-in-law whispered, glancing around nervously.

I frowned. It was true — Sergei had been tense all day. Now, across the room, he was on the phone, his face stiff and unreadable, as if he were hiding something.

“Just nerves,” I replied, trying to soothe us both. “Weddings do that.”

But before I could walk away, she leaned closer and murmured:

“Read this. Right now.”

She slipped the envelope into my hand and vanished into the crowd, instantly regaining her graceful poise and rehearsed social smile.

Confused and uneasy, I found a quiet corner behind a column and tore the envelope open. My heart froze.

“Sergei and his family plan to get rid of you after the wedding. You’re part of a scheme. They know about your family’s inheritance. Run if you want to live.”

At first, I wanted to laugh. It had to be a sick joke from my mother-in-law. But then I remembered all the hushed conversations Sergei abruptly ended when I entered the room. His sudden coldness, the secretive looks…

I scanned the room and met his gaze. Sergei had ended the call and was now staring at me. But his eyes weren’t filled with love — they were calculating, emotionless. He wasn’t the man I’d fallen in love with. He was a stranger.

— Nastya! — my friend called out brightly. — It’s time!

— I’ll be right there! I just need to use the restroom!

Without hesitation, I turned on my heel. Masking my urgency, I walked briskly toward the service corridor. The moment I stepped outside, I kicked off my shoes and ran. I ran as fast as I could, never looking back.

That day, I left everything behind — the wedding, the dress, my past… even my name.

And for 15 years, no one knew where I had gone.