The organ music at St. Francis Church, in our small Midwestern town, resonated with a sound that was both sweet and urgent, filling my ears like a melody blending with the lively conversations of the guests. Today was the big day for my daughter, Emily—the little girl I had dedicated my entire life to loving and protecting. I was standing among some close relatives, smiling automatically in response to their warm congratulations, but my heart felt distant, shrouded in a strange unease I couldn’t name.
After a moment, I excused myself to walk toward the back hallway of the church, looking for a bit of fresh air and a moment of quiet before the ceremony began. The hallway was cool and silent, the only sound my soft footsteps on the cold stone floor. I took a deep breath, feeling the light breeze that carried the scent of dry grass and late-blooming roses from the nearby fields.
But as I passed the groom’s preparation room, a loud, vulgar laugh shattered the peace and made me stop dead in my tracks. The heavy oak door was slightly ajar, and the voice of Ben, my future son-in-law, sounded clear, arrogant, and mocking. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but my feet felt glued to the floor. An icy premonition shot through me like cold water pouring down my spine. I pressed myself against the wall beside the door, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Ben’s voice lowered, but every venomous word he spat out was like a knife. “Just thinking about tonight, having to… perform my duties with that hefty girl… it already makes my stomach turn.”
An obscene, satisfied laugh erupted from the other men inside the room. I felt my blood run cold, a sudden, shocking chill that had nothing to do with the cool stone walls. Hefty girl. He was talking about Emily. My Emily, my daughter, who I had always seen as beautiful as an angel, with her radiant smile and a heart so warm it could melt the winter snow. My chest tightened with a pain so sharp it felt as if someone was physically squeezing my heart.
Another man, his voice smooth and mocking, clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Come on, man. At least you’re getting your hands on the mother-in-law’s huge fortune. Think of the prize.”
Ben’s cold, cruel laughter echoed in the small space. “Of course. I’ll put up with her for the money. If it weren’t for the Chestnut Grove Estate, do you really think I’d even look twice at someone like her?”
Every word was like a poisoned needle piercing my soul. The Chestnut Grove Estate, the sprawling ranch and legacy my parents and I had cared for with sweat, sacrifice, and a lifetime of work, was now just a commodity to him. He wasn’t marrying my daughter for love, but for greed—for those fertile lands, the thriving business, and the numbers in the bank account that came with it.
Another man chimed in with a malicious tone, “On the wedding night, you’ll probably have to down a whole bottle of whiskey just to get the job done right.”
The clinking of glasses mixed with their brutal, heartless laughter, as if my daughter’s feelings, her life, our entire family, was nothing more than a sick joke. I clutched the rosewood rosary beads in my pocket, those cold, smooth beads I had passed through my fingers thousands of times in prayer. But this time, they offered no comfort. They couldn’t calm the inferno of fury growing inside me. I wanted to burst through that door, to scream in his face, to rip off the hypocritical mask he had used to deceive my entire family.
But my feet were made of stone, and a cold, sharp reason told me to stay calm—at least for Emily’s sake. I turned, my steps faltering, almost bumping into a guest coming my way. She looked at me with curious, scrutinizing eyes, her gaze lingering on my face, which must have been as pale as a sheet.
“Mrs. Audrey, are you all right?” she asked, her voice full of a concern that didn’t quite hide her nosy curiosity.
I forced a smile, a brittle thing that felt like it might shatter. “It’s nothing,” I lied. “Just a little pre-ceremony jitters.” And then I walked quickly, almost running, to the bride’s room, trying to control the violent trembling that ran through my body. Each step felt like walking on a thin wire, about to snap at any moment.
When I pushed the door open and entered the bride’s room, a scene of serene calm appeared before my eyes—a stark, painful contrast to the storm raging inside me. Emily, my beloved daughter, was sitting in front of a large, ornate mirror. Her white wedding dress fit her body perfectly, its delicate lace and shimmering silk making her look like an angel who had graced our world for just a day. The soft light from the window illuminated her dark hair, making it shine like a midnight sky filled with stars. The makeup artist was carefully applying a final touch of blush to her cheeks, while Laura, Emily’s best friend, gently blotted a single bead of sweat from her forehead with a tissue.
