15 A Ruined Wedding and a Mysterious Benefactor
My father’s hands were like vises around my wrists, his face contorted with rage inches from mine. The wedding reception had transformed into a battleground, with me at its center.
“You’ve always been nothing but trouble!” he snarled, spit flying from his lips.
I struggled against his grip. “Let go of me!”
Phones appeared everywhere, recording our family meltdown. Social media would be flooded with footage of respectable businessman Harold Shaw assaulting his daughter at his stepdaughter’s wedding.
Perfect.
His fingers dug deeper. “I should have sent you away with your mother when I had the chance!”
The pain was familiar–a reminder of countless other times he’d grabbed me, pushed me, struck me. But something had changed. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“You’re hurting me,” I said loudly enough for nearby phones to capture. “Everyone is watching you, Dad.”
His eyes darted around, suddenly aware of the audience. The pressure on my wrists eased slightly.
“Dad!” Ivy’s shrill voice cut through the tension. “Dad, help me!”
All heads turned toward her. My stepsister had chosen the perfect moment to collapse dramatically into a heap of white satin and lace.
“She’s fainted!” Tanya screamed, kneeling beside her daughter. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Harold immediately released me, rushing to Ivy’s side. I stood alone, rubbing my wrists where angry red marks were already forming.
Alistair pushed through the crowd, panic written across his face. “Ivy! Ivy, can you hear me?”
He gathered her limp form in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. “I’m taking her to the hospital now,” he announced, carrying her toward the exit.
“I’m coming too!” Tanya hurried after them, with my father close behind.
Just like that, they were gone. The bride, groom, and parents of the bride vanished, leaving two hundred confused guests and a ruined wedding reception in their wake.
I stood alone on the stage, watching my former life exit through the door. The silence that followed was deafening.
Then I laughed.
16:27
1/3
<
15 A Ruined Wedding and a Mysterious Benefactor
It started as a small chuckle but quickly grew into something wild and uncontrollable. Six years
of pretending, of sacrifice, of silent suffering–all of it released in that moment of pure,
unbridled freedom.
The guests stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. But it felt magnificent.
I picked up the microphone that had fallen to the floor during the struggle.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, my voice steadier than it had been in months, “I apologize for the interruption. The bride and groom have had to leave, but please stay and enjoy the meal. I selected the menu myself, months ago when this was supposed to be my wedding.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“The salmon is excellent,” I continued casually. “And there’s an open bar, so drink up. Someone might as well enjoy this wedding.”
I dropped the mic with a loud feedback screech and walked off the stage, head held high. The crowd parted for me like the Red Sea, their expressions ranging from shock to pity to
admiration.
As I passed through the reception hall, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Sinclair watching me from the edge of the room. Our eyes met briefly, and I thought I saw the shadow of a smile on his face before I continued toward the exit.
Outside, the fresh air hit my lungs like a cleansing wave. My cheek still stung from my slap, but the pain felt distant somehow, as if it belonged to someone else.
father’s
I slid into my car and sat in silence, hands trembling on the steering wheel. For the first time in years, I felt truly free.
The dam broke. Tears flooded down my cheeks–not tears of sorrow or regret, but of relief. I’d spent my entire life trying to earn my father’s love, trying to be the perfect daughter despite his cruelty. Today, I’d finally stopped trying.
My father had been hitting me since I was ten years old–since my mother left. A slap for spilling milk. A shove for talking back. A backhand for getting home late. The wedding assault was nothing compared to what I’d endured behind closed doors.
But Alistair’s betrayal had cut deeper than any physical pain. I’d given him my heart, my time, my blood–literally my blood, when his rare condition required transfusions. And he’d thrown it all away for Ivy.
I wiped my tears and pulled out my phone, scrolling through missed calls and messages. Most were from Vera–she must have seen the commotion online already. I’d call her later.
Searching for a tissue in my jacket pocket, my fingers brushed against something soft. I pulled out a fine silk handkerchief I didn’t recognize. It was crisp white with a light blue border, impossibly smooth between my fingers.
16:27
2/3
<
15 A Ruined Wedding and a Mysterious Benefactor
In one corner, a small embroidered character caught my eye–an elegantly stitched “S” surrounded by a subtle design that looked like a family crest.
S for Sinclair.
I suddenly remembered the moment when my father had first slapped me on stage. Someone had handed me this handkerchief, but in the chaos, I’d simply stuffed it into my pocket without looking.
The Sinclairs were legends in our city. Immensely wealthy, incredibly powerful, and notoriously private. Their family controlled vast business interests spanning technology, real estate, and national defense. They rarely appeared at social functions–which made Mr. Sinclair’s presence at this wedding all the more intriguing.
Why had he been there? And why had he seemed so focused on me?
I traced the embroidered “S” with my fingertip, wondering what connection this mysterious man might have to my shattered life–and why he’d chosen today, of all days, to appear in it.
Comment
L
Leave the first comment for this chapter.
Send Gift
Swipe left to continue >
