Chapter 5 - The Walkout
"Emma," Daniel whispered, taking my hands in his. "What do you want to do?"
I looked at the altar, decorated with thousands of dollars worth of white calla lilies—flowers my mother had insisted on, despite knowing they gave me migraines. I looked at the three-hundred-dollar veil weighing down my hair, a heavy symbol of a dutiful daughter trying to earn love that had never existed.
I reached up and unpinned the veil.
I let it drop to the carpeted floor.
"We aren't doing this here," I said, my voice steady, clear, and resonant. "Not under her roof. Not with her money. And certainly not in front of people who only pretend to care."
"Emma, don't you dare walk out of this church!" Mom commanded, stepping forward, her eyes wide with desperation. "Do you know how much this wedding cost? Do you know what this will do to our reputation? You will be completely cut off! You will never step foot in our house again!"
I turned to face her. For twenty-eight years, that threat had paralyzed me. The fear of being an orphan in a family full of people had kept me quiet through every insult, every excluded holiday photograph, every snide comment about my weight, my clothes, and my career.
"You called me your greatest regret in the dressing room twenty minutes ago," I said, watching her flinch as the guests heard my words. "You told me walking me down the aisle was an embarrassment. Well, Margaret... you don't have to worry about being embarrassed by me anymore."
I looked at Daniel. "Are you with me?"
Daniel smiled, a fierce, protective grin that made my chest tighten with warmth. "Anywhere."
He took my hand, turned his back on the altar, and together with Grandpa Arthur on my other side, we began walking toward the heavy oak doors at the back of the church.
"Emma! Richard, stop her!" Mom screamed, her voice cracking into hysteria. "Arthur, give me that drive! You can't do this to me!"
Dad tried to reach out and grab my arm as we passed his pew, but Daniel stepped between us, towering over my father with cold fury. "Touch her, Richard, and I will personally file the civil injunction this afternoon. Don't test me."
May you like
Dad backed away, his hands held up in defeat, looking down in utter ruin.
As we pushed open the heavy church doors and stepped out into the crisp, blinding sunlight, the heavy whispers of three hundred guests exploded behind us. We left the scandal, the lies, and the poison behind in the shadows of the cathedral.
