Chapter 3 - The Price of a Wedding
The fluorescent lights of the trauma center were blinding. Every bump of the gurney sent lightning searing through my severed nerves.
"Compound fracture of the left tibia, severe hardware displacement," the trauma surgeon barked to the surgical team as they cut the ruined bridesmaid dress from my body. "The internal stabilization plate sheared two screws right out of the bone. We need an immediate surgical reduction before she loses arterial flow to the foot."
"Doctor..." I wheezed through the oxygen mask, tears tracing hot tracks into my hair. "Save... save the leg."
"We're taking you in right now, Fallon. Count backward from ten."
The chemical taste of anesthesia hit my tongue, and the world vanished.
When I opened my eyes again, the sun was cutting through horizontal blinds. The room smelled of antiseptic and stale coffee. My left leg was encased in an immense external fixation frame—thick carbon-fiber rings circling my calf with stainless steel pins drilled directly through the skin into the bone. The pain was an omnipresent, throbbing roar, kept just barely at bay by an IV pump clicking rhythmically beside my bed.
The door clicked open. It wasn't the doctor.
My mother slipped inside, clad in an immaculate pastel pantsuit, carrying an oversized designer purse. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but there was no warmth in her expression—only frantic, suffocating stress.
"Oh, thank God you’re awake," she breathed, rushing to the edge of the bed. She didn't take my hand. Instead, she peered anxiously toward the hallway before pulling the door shut. "Fallon, the police were down in the lobby earlier. They said an anonymous bystander at the rehearsal called 911 reporting an assault."
I swallowed against my parched throat. "It wasn't an anonymous bystander. Julian saw it. Harrison saw it."
Mother’s face tightened into an ugly scowl. "Don't you start, Fallon. Sutton is beside herself! She hasn't slept a wink, and her skin looks sallow. The makeup artist is charging double just to cover the dark circles under her eyes!"
I stared at her, genuinely stunned despite twenty-six years of living in Sutton’s shadow. "Mom... my leg is held together by scaffolding. The doctor said I might have a permanent limp. She kicked me down stone stairs."
"She made a misstep!" Mother hissed, leaning over the bed rail, her breath smelling of peppermint and panic. "It was an accident! Briany showed me the video—it’s just a playful little nudge that went wrong! Fallon, do you have any idea how much Sutton's father-in-law spent on this venue? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars! If you file a police report, the wedding gets canceled, Harrison’s family pulls out, and Sutton’s entire social career is destroyed!"
"She laughed," I whispered, the memory burning like acid. "She looked at me bleeding on the floor and told me to get up because it was just for content."
"She was in shock!" Mother insisted, blindly defending her golden child. She reached into her bag and slammed a legal pad and a pen onto my tray table. "You are going to sign a statement for the police officers outside saying you lost your footing due to your pre-existing injury. Then, you are going to let Briany post an update video saying you and Sutton are totally fine."
I looked at the blank legal paper, then at my mother’s cold, demanding eyes.
"No," I said quietly.
Mother straightened up, her aristocratic veneer shattering into raw venom. "Excuse me?"
"I said no, Mom. Get out."
"You selfish, miserable little girl," she hissed through gritted teeth. "You’ve always been jealous of Sutton. Always trying to ruin her happiness! If you do this, Fallon—if you ruin her wedding day—you are dead to this family. You will not get a single cent from your father’s trust."
A hollow, razor-sharp smile touched my lips despite the agony in my leg.
May you like
"You really don't know, do you?" I said, my voice ice-cold. "You should check who controls Dad’s trust, Mom. Because it hasn't been you for nearly two years."
***
