The phone buzzed on the marble countertop for the billionth time. Keisha. I couldn't answer it. That would mean the wedding is real. My gaze drifted to the gold invitation sitting in the trash can. The Marriage of Corbin Emerson Gates and Jules Elias Vance. It didn't seem right.

8 days ago, I was sitting next to a hospital bed, clutching my mother's hand. She's been there for me since the very beginning. Since we've lived up on the top floor of a dusty old apartment, overlooking the alley on 4th Street. Now, I'm standing in a penthouse that costs more than everything me and my mother have ever made. I'm marrying the richest man in the world in approximately 19 hours, and 23 minutes with no dress.

It's not that I can't afford one, but every time I look at that white silk, it feels like I'm suffocating. How am I supposed to walk down that aisle into fancy jets and gold, when I can't get over the fact that my mother isn't there? When I never even got to tell her I was getting married?

The world expects to see the luckiest woman alive tomorrow, but in the mirror, all I see is a little girl looking back in a dark alley, terrified, and all alone.

My eye catches my old apartment. I’m looking across the street from the penthouse, and there it is—the home where I grew up. Wait, is that Corbin’s sister? After my mom died, I sold the apartment thinking nobody would buy it, but it looks like Emma is touring it. Why would she, Emma Gates, be touring my house? She’s the richest woman in the world (a title that's soon to be mine). I don’t know what’s going on, but Emma does not belong there.

I didn't think; I just moved. I grabbed an old black hoodie and some old sneakers that I refused to throw away. They were both hand-me-downs from my mother. It's one of the only things I have left of her. I don't need a million dollar dress, I need the truth. I need to know why Emma Gates is standing where my mother and I used to live. I want a wedding dress that reminds me of my mom. One that was hers.

I didn’t care that it was negative twenty degrees. I didn't care that I was Jules Elias Vance, soon to be Jules Elias Gates. When I got to the door of the old apartment, it was cracked open about two inches. I slipped in, hoping Emma wouldn’t catch a glimpse of what I was wearing. She was standing in the middle of my mother’s tiny kitchen, picking at the peeling wallpaper like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

I didn’t say a word. I just walked very slowly to the back closet near the bedroom my mother and I used to share. There it was: the dress she had kept in a plastic bag for years. It wasn’t silk, and it didn’t have diamonds, but it smelled like home. Even though my new life was worth more than I’d ever made, that dress smelled like her.

When I got back to the penthouse, I expected silence. Instead, the lights flashed on, blinding me.

"SURPRISE!"

My bridesmaids were all there, including Keisha. They were all wearing gold silk dresses. In the middle of the room, hanging from a gold rack, was the most beautiful gown I had ever seen. It was easily a six-figure dress.

"We found it, Jules!" Keisha beamed, clearly expecting me to jump up and down with her. "It’s the one! Isn’t it beautiful?! Corbin had it flown in all the way from Paris!"

The girls started circling me, their voices rising until they began to echo.

"Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!"

I felt woozy. The chanting faded as they stopped, waiting for my response. I needed to lie down, but they started up again.

"Come on, Jules!" Trish urged. "Say yes!"

They all joined in, louder now. "Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!"

The pressure in my chest snapped.

"NO!" I screamed, the sound tearing out of my throat.

The chanting stopped instantly. Their smiles turned into expressions of pure shock. I didn't feel like explaining. I turned and ran, tears blurring my vision as I sprang toward the balcony. I needed air.