Chapter 3 - The Groom’s True Face
The hallway stretched endlessly before me, lined with antique portraits and sconces that cast long, menacing shadows across the patterned carpet. Every rustle of my heavy silk gown sounded like a siren announcing my location. I could hear the muffled uproar from the ballroom behind us, a cacophony of confusion and rising panic. I knew Evan wouldn't be delayed for long. He was a man who prided himself on control; losing it in front of two hundred people would only make him dangerous.
"Mommy, you're squeezing me," Sophie murmured, her voice trembling against my collarbone.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry," I breathed, loosening my grip slightly but quickening my pace. My lungs burned, the corset of my dress restricting my air. With a desperate yank, I reached back and tore at the delicate silk buttons running down my spine. The expensive fabric ripped with a sickening sound, but the sudden rush of air into my lungs was worth destroying the thousands of dollars of haute couture.
We reached the heavy oak door of the bridal suite at the end of the corridor. My hands were shaking so violently that I dropped the electronic key card twice before finally jamming it into the slot. The light blinked green. I shoved the door open, practically threw us inside, and slammed it shut, instantly engaging the deadbolt and the heavy brass chain.
The bridal suite was massive, a sprawling room filled with discarded makeup palettes, half-empty champagne flutes, and the joyful debris of a morning spent preparing for a wedding. Now, it felt like a gilded cage.
I set Sophie down on the plush velvet sofa. She looked terrified, her bottom lip quivering, her flower crown completely askew. I dropped to my knees in front of her, grasping her small shoulders. I forced myself to take a deep, steadying breath, masking my sheer terror with a veneer of calm.
"Sophie, look at me," I said softly, brushing a stray blonde curl from her tear-stained cheek. "You are not in trouble. You did the right thing by telling me. But I need you to tell me exactly what you saw. Every single detail. Where were they?"
Sophie sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "I was playing hide-and-seek with Tommy. I went into the room where Evan and Uncle Peter were getting dressed. The one with the big leather chairs."
The Groom’s Lounge. It was just down the hall from this suite.
"They didn't see me," she continued, her voice a small whisper. "I hid inside the big closet where the coats were. They were drinking from glasses. And... and Uncle Peter looked really mad. He told Evan that Evan owed him more money because he was taking a big risk letting him marry you."
My stomach plummeted. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, cold and absolute.
"And Evan laughed," Sophie said, her eyes widening at the memory. "He laughed and opened his black bag. He took out a shiny watch. It had a scratch on the glass. I know it was Daddy’s. I remember the scratch from when Daddy let me play with it. Evan held it up and said... he said, 'You've been paid enough for cutting those lines, Peter. If you ask for another dime, I'll send this to the police and tell them you acted alone.'"
Tears began to stream down my face, hot and fast. The sheer, unfathomable evil of it paralyzed me for a moment. My own brother. Peter, who had held my hand as I sobbed over David's casket. Peter, who had read a poem at the funeral. He had murdered his own brother-in-law, the father of his niece, for money. And Evan... Evan had orchestrated it. He wanted David’s company, he wanted David’s life, and he had stepped over David’s corpse to take it.
"And then what did Uncle Peter say?" I choked out, my voice ragged.
"Uncle Peter got quiet. He said, 'Good thing the brakes failed when they did, or this would have cost me double.' Then they put the watch back in Evan's black bag and zipped it up. They left the room, and I ran to find you."
Evan's black bag.
I stood up, my eyes sweeping frantically across the bridal suite. Evan had spent the morning in the Groom's Lounge, but an hour before the ceremony, the groomsmen had brought all the luggage up to the bridal suite so it would be ready for our departure to the airport tomorrow.
My eyes landed on a pile of leather luggage near the king-sized bed. Sitting on top was Evan’s vintage black leather duffel bag.
I rushed over to it, my hands tearing at the brass zipper. It was locked with a small, golden padlock. I didn't care. I looked around the room for something, anything. My eyes locked on a heavy brass lamp on the bedside table. I ripped the plug from the wall, stripped the silk shade off, and brought the heavy metal base crashing down onto the padlock.
Clang.
The sound was deafening in the quiet room. I hit it again. And again. On the fourth strike, the cheap metal of the padlock shattered.
I tore the bag open, digging frantically through Evan’s neatly folded silk ties and expensive dress shirts. My fingers brushed against something hard at the bottom. A small, velvet jewelry box.
I pulled it out. My breath hitched in my throat as I pried the lid open.
There it was.
David’s silver pocket watch. The glass face was cracked, a spiderweb of shattered crystal that forever froze the hands at 2:14 AM—the exact time of the crash. I turned it over with trembling fingers. Etched into the tarnished silver back, still faintly stained with a dark, dried substance I realized with horror was blood, were the words: To David, my forever. Love, Clara.
A strangled sob tore from my throat. I collapsed against the side of the bed, clutching the watch to my chest as if it were David himself. The betrayal was so absolute, so suffocating, that for a moment, I thought I might actually die from the sheer weight of it. I had let the man who murdered the love of my life kiss me. I had let him hold my daughter. I had just stood at an altar and promised to love him until death parted us.
Boom.
The sudden, violent impact against the heavy oak door made me scream. Sophie shrieked and scrambled backward on the sofa, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Clara!"
It was Evan’s voice. It wasn't smooth anymore. It was a guttural, enraged bark.
Boom.
He threw his shoulder against the door again. The wood groaned, but the deadbolt held fast.
"Open this door right now, Clara!" he yelled, his fists pounding against the wood. "You are making a massive fool out of yourself! Open the goddamn door!"
"Mommy!" Sophie cried, covering her ears.
I shoved the watch deep into the pocket of the bridal suite's thick white bathrobe that was draped over the bed, then threw the robe over my shoulders to cover my torn dress. I ran to Sophie, scooping her up and carrying her into the suite's large, marble bathroom.
"Hide in the shower, baby. Close the glass door and do not come out until I say so. Do you understand?" I whispered fiercely, kissing her forehead.
She nodded, tears streaming down her face, and scrambled into the massive walk-in shower, pulling the frosted glass door shut.
I ran back into the main room, my eyes darting around for a weapon. I grabbed the heavy brass lamp again. I backed away from the door, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"Clara, please," another voice pleaded through the wood. It was Peter. He sounded like he was crying. "Clara, you misunderstood. Sophie is just a kid, she didn't hear it right. Please, just open the door and let's talk about this."
"You murdered him!" I screamed, the raw agony in my voice tearing my throat. "You murdered David! I have the watch, Peter! I found the watch!"
The silence on the other side of the door was instant and absolute. The pounding stopped. The pleading stopped.
The heavy, suffocating silence of men who realized they had nothing left to lose.
"Clara," Evan’s voice slithered through the crack under the door. It was no longer angry. It was terrifyingly calm, devoid of any human emotion. The voice of a predator that had finally cornered its prey. "You really shouldn't have gone into my bag. Now you've left me with a very messy situation to clean up."
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I heard the distinct, metallic sound of a master key card sliding into the electronic lock. A beat later, a heavy thud echoed as someone threw their weight against the door, snapping the brass security chain like it was made of plastic.
The door burst open.
