Chapter 3 - The Altar of Deception
The day of the wedding was a masterpiece of Northwest grey,
the sky heavy with the promise of rain that matched the mood I carried.
St. James Cathedral was a fortress of stone and stained glass,
currently surrounded by white roses and a fleet of black town cars.
I arrived in a sleek,
midnight-blue gown that hid the traces of my recent labor,
looking every bit the woman who had once been the toast of the town.
Grace was in a matching wrap,
sleeping soundly against my heart,
my little secret weapon in silk.
I didn't go through the side door.
I didn't wait for an usher.
I walked straight through the center aisle,
just as the organ began the low,
vibrating chords of the processional.
The murmurs began instantly,
a wave of shocked whispers that traveled from the back pews to the front.
"Is that Nora?"
"She has the baby."
"What is she doing here?"
I saw Olivia first,
sitting in the front row,
wearing a hat that looked like a bird of prey about to take flight.
Her face went pale,
then a mottled,
angry red.
Dominic was standing at the altar,
looking resplendent in a custom tuxedo,
waiting for the woman who carried his supposed heir.
When he saw me,
his jaw didn't just drop;
it locked.
He took a step forward,
his eyes darting to the doors,
hoping for security to materialize.
"Nora,"
he hissed,
the sound carrying in the vaulted space of the cathedral.
"Get out.
You are trespassing on a private event."
"Private?"
I asked,
my voice amplified by the perfect acoustics of the stone.
"You sent invitations to half the city,
Dominic.
And since you used the Sinclair Trust to pay for the flowers,
I think I have a right to see the performance."
Brooke appeared at the entrance of the aisle,
her white veil trailing behind her like a shroud.
She stopped,
her hand clutching her bouquet so hard the petals began to fall.
"Nora,
don't do this,"
she pleaded,
the first sign of fear cracking her beautiful,
plastic mask.
I didn't look at her.
I looked at the man who had told me my daughter was useless.
"I have a gift for you,
Dominic,"
I said,
stepping into the light of the altar.
"Since you’re so fond of signatures,
I thought you might want one more for your collection."
I pulled the sealed envelope from my clutch,
the gold wax seal glinting in the candlelight.
The entire room went silent,
five hundred people leaning forward as if watching a tightrope walker over a canyon.
I handed the envelope to the priest,
who looked at me with a mixture of confusion and pity.
"Read the first page,
Father,"
May you like
I said.
"Read it loud enough for the groom to hear."
