Chapter 2 - The Groom’s Ultimatum
The heavy oak doors of the bridal suite slammed shut, locking out the curious whispers of the hotel staff lingering in the hallway.
Daniel paced the length of the room, his black tuxedo jacket discarded over a velvet chair, his silk tie loosened. The air was thick with the scent of melted rose wax and panic.
"We are canceling," Daniel said, stopping abruptly to stare at Grace, who sat frozen in front of the vanity mirror, staring blankly at the crumpled onion-skin paper clutched in her fist. "Grace, look at me. We cannot walk out there after that. Your mother is harboring... God knows what kind of criminal past! Ransom? Cell blocks? Are you hearing yourself?"
"I’m hearing a lie," Grace whispered, her voice hollow. She looked at her reflection. The professional makeup could not hide the gray cast of shock under her skin. "Everything was a lie, Daniel. Every birthday, every rule, every guilt trip. She didn't love me because I was her daughter. She kept me because of a contract."
"Then let's walk out the service elevator," Daniel urged, stepping closer and placing a hand on her bare shoulder. "My family has reporters downstairs for crying out loud. If the press gets ahold of a kidnapping story involving your family, my father’s firm will drop us before we sign the prenup."
Grace flinched. The prenup.
Even in this nightmare, Daniel’s mind went straight to the family assets. She looked down at the diamond ring sparkling on her finger—a rock chosen by Daniel’s mother to match their social standing. It suddenly felt like a shackle, identical to the pearls Evelyn had tried to force on her.
The door clicked.
Evelyn walked back into the room without knocking. She had a small, silver-plated tray in her hands holding two glasses of water and a white handkerchief. Her expression was completely composed, as if the last twenty minutes of total psychological devastation had never happened.
"Leave us, Daniel," Evelyn said, her voice leaving no room for argument.
"I won't leave her alone with you," Daniel barked, stepping defensively in front of Grace. "You’re insane. You need to be institutionalized."
Evelyn didn't even look at him. She fixed her cold, steady gaze on her daughter. "Grace, tell your fiancé to wait outside. Unless you want him to find out why your middle name is Constance."
Grace’s head whipped up. "What? What does Constance mean?"
"It was the name of the prison where your real father died," Evelyn said smoothly.
Daniel stopped dead in his tracks, horror dawning in his eyes. He looked at Grace, then at Evelyn, and realized instantly that he was swimming in waters far too deep for his shallow pedigree.
"Grace," Daniel whispered, taking a step back toward the door, his cowardice winning the internal war. "Call me when... when you figure out who you are."
He grabbed his jacket, bolted through the door, and left them alone.
The click of the door latch felt like a guillotine dropping.
Grace slowly turned around in her swivel chair. The bridesmaids were long gone, evacuated by hotel security ten minutes prior. It was just the two of them, floating in a sea of white satin and shattered pearls.
"Why?" Grace asked, her voice cracking with a mix of fury and profound grief. "Why didn't you just give me away? If I wasn't yours, why spend your whole life acting like a martyr?"
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Evelyn walked slowly across the room, her hand trailing over the back of an empty chair. She stopped three feet away from Grace, looked down at her, and said,
"Because, Grace... I didn't adopt you. I took you."
