Chapter 4 - The St. Jude Chapel ArrivalSt. Jude’s Chapel sat majestically on a cliff overlooking the crashing waves of the Newport coastline. Its stained-glass windows caught the midday sun, casting vibrant pools of ruby and sapphire light across the stone steps. By 11:45 a.m., luxury sedans and vintage cars were pulling up the winding drive, disgorging two hundred of our closest family members, friends, and mutual acquaintances.

Inside the oak-paneled groom’s vestry, Ethan stood adjusting his black tuxedo cuffs. His dark hair was neatly styled, but his brow was furrowed with intense concentration. When the heavy wooden door clicked open and I stepped inside on Ryan’s arm, Ethan’s head snapped up.
For a second, all the noise in the world simply vanished.
Ethan crossed the room in three long strides, ignoring wedding protocol entirely. He bypassed Ryan, stepping straight up to me, his hands gently framing my face. His eyes searched mine with an urgent, desperate tenderness.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Liv... when I heard that audio file last night... I wanted to burn that hotel down. I swear to God, I had no idea—"
"I know you didn't," I interrupted softly, resting my hand against his warm cheek. I could feel the tension vibrating through his frame. "And that's why we’re going to handle this together. Are you ready to play your part?"
Ethan let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-growl. "Try me. What do you need me to do?"
"Just follow my lead. And whatever happens at the altar, don't break character until I give the signal."
Just then, a frantic knock sounded at the vestry door. Chloe poked her head in, looking like an administrative deity wielding a clipboard. "Showtime, kids. The guests are seated. And your wonderful bridesmaids have just arrived in the front row, looking like they’re about to walk into a firing squad."
I turned back to the mirror, adjusting the delicate pearl drop earrings Ethan had given me for our anniversary. "Let them sweat," I murmured. "A firing squad is too quick."
Moments later, the heavy church doors at the back of the chapel swung open. The organist began playing the traditional bridal march, filling the vaulted ceiling with rich, resonant chords.
Down the center aisle walked Kendra, followed by the other two trembling bridesmaids, and finally, bringing up the rear, Vanessa.
Vanessa looked stunning in her floor-length emerald silk gown, but her posture was rigid, her steps mechanical. Her eyes scanned the front pews desperately, searching for me, searching for any sign of what was coming. When she reached the altar and took her place, she looked across the aisle at Ethan.
Ethan didn't give her a reassuring smile. He didn't offer a polite nod. He simply stared at her with a look of cold, unrelenting disgust—a look so chilling that Vanessa physically recoiled, taking half a step backward against the altar rail.
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She swallowed hard, her chest heaving beneath her silk gown. She realized, with terrifying certainty, that she was no longer in control of a single second of this day.
And the music for the bride’s entrance hadn't even started yet.
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