Minutes stretched like hours. The chaos in the garden had calmed, but my nerves had not. My mind raced, spinning questions I dared not voice. Had Austin's mother really escaped? If she had, surely the turmoil wouldn't have settled so neatly. She would have barged in, disrupted the ceremony, and demanded her presence. My chest tightened at the mere thought.
And where was my mum? Why wasn't she by my side? Panic tried to claw its way into me, but I swallowed it hard. I had to remain the bride, the picture of calm perfection.
The priest's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. "Shall we proceed?" he asked, glancing briefly at us. "Everything settled?"
I nodded automatically, swallowing the knot in my throat. Austin's smile was calm, confident, and content. Outside, he looked serene. Inside, I was anything but. My stomach churned with the knowledge of everything that lay beneath this polished surface.
The familiar words reached my ears, hollow but official: "With this ring…"
It was done. We were officially married. Relief hit me like a tidal wave, sharp and fleeting. My legs wobbled slightly, and I forced my smile into place.
The bouquet ritual followed. Tradition dictated that I toss it toward the eager singles. My eyes widened in disbelief when it landed squarely in the hands of my roommate.
My roommate?
I froze mid-step, panic rushing through me. How was she here? Did she know? Could she suspect what I had done that night—the spiked drink, the stolen attention, the careful manipulation that had brought me here? My chest tightened. Every instinct screamed that she must know. How did she get on the guest list? Who invited her? Is Austin still in contact with her?
Her smile was effortless, too genuine, too easy. My mind raced. She could ruin everything. I offered a faint smile, murmured a polite congratulations, but my attention was elsewhere, replaying every carefully plotted move from that fateful evening.
I scanned the crowd again, desperate to spot my mum, desperate to understand the chaos from earlier. My anxiety climbed. Then it happened.
A voice. Calm. Deliberate. Terrifying.
"Welcome to the family."
I looked up. She had emerged. She was out. My breath caught. My heartbeat thundered. The world seemed to shrink around her, the guests fading into a blur. She moved with serene, chilling control, every gesture deliberate, every step radiating authority.
How?
I scanned for my mother. There she was, at the far end of the flowering stand, rigid, lips pressed tight, trapped by circumstances I did not yet understand. A shiver ran down my spine.
I forced a trembling, shaky "thank you," though my voice felt hollow. Mrs. Rinnah's eyes flicked toward me, and I knew she could sense my uneasiness.
She's enjoying this, I thought bitterly. Every step, every glance, calculated. She's the predator. I am the prey.
Then Austin's voice rang out, bright and elated. "Muuummmmm!"
The warmth in his tone, complete adoration… was terrifying. It was so easy to forget the looming threat at that moment. They exchanged greetings and embraces.
A whisper passed from her lips to his ear. A small smirk flicked toward me. Blood drained from my face. Every movement was measured, precise. She had stepped fully into her role. And I, the bride, the center of what should have been triumph, felt powerless, small, vulnerable.
The reception unfolded, tense and delicate. I navigated the room with care, avoiding her gaze. She delivered small, deliberate jabs, testing my composure, almost teasing. Polite smiles, small talk, laughter. It was all a mask, hiding the storm that churned beneath the surface.
Finally, a moment alone with my mother. Desperation clawed at me.
"What happened? How did she get out? Why didn't you intervene?" I whispered, my chest tight, voice trembling.
My mother explained in a rather defeated tone. A security guard rushed a drunken guest into the lobby. My mother had tripped, scratched herself. She returned to the room, tending to the minor injury. Just moments later, a guard came to check on her, holding a first aid kit in hand because of her injury. At the same time, Mrs. Rinnah had banged on the closet door, sensing someone else was inside. Suspicion flared. My mother had been cornered, interrogated, but Mrs. Rinnah controlled the scene with a calm authority that froze my mother's defiance.
Then came the ultimatum.
My stomach churned as I remembered my mother's account. The words were precise, deliberate, surgical in their intent:
"Your daughter will no longer exist as the girl you raised. Her name—her history—will be rewritten. Certain years will vanish. Certain associations were corrected. She will live—but not as the child you know. Your role is now cooperation. Attempt to protect her, and neither of you will survive what is coming. Everything you did today—the footage, the witnesses, the chaos—has been secured. This will be the least of your worries if you don't oblige. This was never a love marriage for my son. You and your daughter have made it worse. The consequences are yours."
The words drilled into my bones. Fear settled deep, cold, and heavy. You will lose her without losing her.
The predator was no longer hidden. She had emerged fully. Every decision from now on would be under her gaze, under her control. I, who had orchestrated every detail of this day, felt the raw sting of vulnerability. Every plan, every deception, every small victory, the entire narrative I had built all this time was under scrutiny.
I stood frozen. My mind raced, imagining scenarios, missteps, whispers of defiance. The day that promised triumph now felt like a trap. Every smile, every polite gesture, is a thin veil over danger.
And yet, amid the fear, a spark of determination ignited. She may control the narrative, may wield immense power, but I have survived this far. Secrets, lies, chaos, I had navigated it all. I was not finished, and I knew that even she was just getting started.
The wedding continued, the guests oblivious to the psychological battle unfolding in the shadows. Laughter, music, clinking glasses… it all became surreal, a stage for the drama that only a few of us truly understood.
I watched Mrs. Rinnah across the room, calm, poised, unshakable, and realized the truth: the real game had just begun.
The predator had emerged, the prey had been caught in her gaze, and the cost of escape was no longer hypothetical; it was now our very existence. And in that moment, I realized with a cold certainty: this was only the beginning. She would strike again, and when she did… nothing, not my carefully built world, not even my family, would remain untouched.
I could feel the weight of her intentions pressing down on me, but I refused to be swallowed by it. And for every secret she holds, I will have my own arsenal waiting. It was a game of chess, and while she thought she had the upper hand, I wouldn't let her dictate the tune. The stakes were higher than ever, but I was not just a pawn. I would rise, ready to turn the tables, and I would make her realize that underestimating me was her greatest mistake. The game was on, and I was determined to play it.