Chapter 3 - The Mask Cracks
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The moment the pastor pronounced us husband and wife, there was no cheerful applause. The guests sat in stunned, awkward silence as Daniel reluctantly leaned forward to kiss me. I turned my cheek, letting his lips brush my skin right above the line of black rot on my collarbone.
"Presenting Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore," the pastor announced, his enthusiasm forced.
I turned around, grabbed the train of my ruined dress, and began the walk back up the aisle. I held my head as high as a queen wearing velvet. I made eye contact with Senator Sterling, Judge Hayes, and the head of the State Commerce Board. They stared back, horrified yet utterly fascinated by the spectacle.
As we reached the foyer outside the chapel doors, Eleanor was already waiting for us. Her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor as she stormed toward me, her face flushed red with suppressed rage.
"You absolute savage," Eleanor hissed under her breath, ensuring none of the lingering guests could hear her. "You wore that trash in front of my guests? You made a mockery of my family's name on national society blogs!"
"You poured the trash, Eleanor," I said smoothly, unpinning my mother’s pristine white veil from my hair so it wouldn't get dirty. "I just didn't let it hide who you really are."
"You think you're clever, don't you?" she spat, stepping closer, her expensive floral perfume battling the stench of the garbage water. "You think wearing a ruined gown makes you a martyr? You are a nobody from a ruined family, Maya. After tonight, I will ensure Daniel strips you of every cent in the prenuptial agreement."
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"Try it," I whispered, stepping so close her breath caught. "Ask Daniel what happens when I call the District Attorney about the Shell Corporation named 'Vance Logistics Holdings'."
Eleanor’s face drained of color. The arrogance in her eyes evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp terror.
