Chapter 6 - The Vanishing Bride
At 10:35 AM, the massive brass doors at the back of the cathedral creaked open.
The organist transitioned smoothly into the deep, majestic chords of the wedding processional. The hushed chatter among the three hundred wealthy guests died down immediately. Necks turned, heads adjusted, and eyes focused on the center aisle, waiting for the grand entrance of the bride.
First came the bridesmaids, dressed in dusty rose silk, stepping in slow, synchronized rhythm.
Ethan stood at the altar, puffing his chest out slightly, adjusting his lapels, his eyes fixed on the back entrance like a predator waiting for its prey. Richard Sterling leaned back in his pew, folding his arms with an air of complete, smug triumph.
Then came my mother and father.
My mother was weeping softly, holding onto my father's arm. But my father—remembering what I had told him in the hallway—did not look at Richard Sterling. He held his chin high, his jaw set, walking with a dignified, quiet strength that contrasted sharply with the hollow ostentation around him.
They took their seats in the front row on our side.
The music swelled to its loudest, most dramatic crescendo. The congregation stood up in unison, turning toward the back doors to catch their first glimpse of Emily in her custom ivory gown.
The back doorway was empty.
Five seconds passed. Then ten. Then fifteen.
The heavy silence stretched out, growing thick, awkward, and palpable. The organist, visibly confused, slowed his tempo, playing a repetitive, uncertain loop of chords.
Murmurs began to ripple through the wooden pews like a rising wind.
"Where is she?" a woman behind me whispered.
"Is she late?" another voice murmured.
At the altar, Ethan’s smug smile flickered and vanished. His brow furrowed into an ugly, furious scowl. He stepped down off the altar platform, looking past the minister toward the back of the church.
Richard Sterling instantly stood up from his front-row pew. His eyes flashed with sudden, dangerous rage. He turned toward his private chief of security, a heavily built man in a dark suit standing near the side aisle, and gestured frantically with his hand.
"Find her," Richard hissed under his breath, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet front rows. "Find her right now."
The security chief quickly trotted down the side aisle toward the bridal holding room at the rear of the cathedral.
I sat quietly in my seat, folding my hands over my leather clutch, watching the spectacle unfold.
A minute later, the security chief emerged from the back hallway, his face completely drained of color. He jogged up the aisle, ignoring the staring guests, and stopped right in front of Richard and Ethan.
"Sir," the chief whispered frantically, his voice trembling. "She's gone."
Ethan gasped, his face twisting in sudden, unbridled fury. "What do you mean, she's gone?!"
"The side door to the alley was left open," the chief stammered. "Her bouquet is sitting on the table in the holding room. Her phone is gone. A black town car was seen pulling away from the alley thirty seconds ago."
Ethan let out a choked curse, tearing his white orchid boutonniere off his suit jacket and throwing it onto the stone floor, stomping on it with his polished leather shoe. "That little bitch!" he shouted, forgetting entirely where he was.
The church erupted into shocked gasps. Wealthy guests leaned in toward one another, phones quietly emerging from purses and pockets as whispering turned into chaotic chatter.
Richard Sterling stepped forward, grabbing Ethan by his shoulder, his voice low and vicious. "Control yourself! We will handle this. She thinks she can run? I will call her father's bank right now and execute every default notice before she reaches the city limits!"
Richard pulled his custom leather-encased phone from his pocket, his thumb stabbing violently at the screen as he dialed his private attorney.
He put the phone to his ear.
He waited five seconds. Ten seconds.
He frowned, looking at the screen. "No signal? What is wrong with this useless—"
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BANG.
The massive double wooden doors at the main entrance of St. James Cathedral were violently slammed open, echoing through the lofty gothic arches like a cannon shot.
