Chapter 7: The Chase
“Stay here,” Elias said, and took off after her.
Guests scrambled, screaming, stepping over shards of glass. I stood frozen, the handkerchief still pressed to my lip, the envelope of truth in my hand. My aunt and uncle stared at me like they’d never seen me before.
One of the older women—my grandmother’s sister—stepped forward slowly.
“I always knew,” she said quiet. “I always knew it wasn’t you. But they threatened to cut me off too.”
Police sirens wailed outside, getting closer by the second. I walked toward the altar, toward the priest, toward the empty space where Colleen had stood.
On the floor, half-buried in rose petals, lay a folded piece of paper. I picked it up.
It was a note, written in Colleen’s handwriting: If I can’t be perfect… I’ll make sure Clara is broken forever.
Then my phone buzzed. An unknown number. A photo popped up.
It was Elias. Tied to a chair in an old shed.
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