On my wedding night, I screamed so loudly my parents-in-law broke the heavy oak door down. I was backed into a corner, trembling in my crushed dress. "What did you do to her?!" his father demanded. My husband of 12 hours calmly adjusted his cuffs. He looked at me with cold hatred. "She had to pay," he whispered. But what he didn't know was that the real monster was watching us...
On my wedding night, I screamed so loudly my parents-in-law broke the heavy oak door down. I was backed into a corner, trembling in my crushed dress. "What did you do to her?!" his father demanded. My husband of 12 hours calmly adjusted his cuffs. He looked at me with cold hatred. "She had to pay," he whispered. But what he didn't know was that the real monster was watching us...
The Real Monster at Oakhaven Springs
Part 1
“Eleanor... I can’t be this man’s wife.”
The words came out of me in pieces, broken by sobs, by the tightness in my chest, by the awful knowledge that the man standing ten feet away from me had married me only to destroy me.
I was backed into the corner of the primary suite at Oakhaven Springs, still wearing my wedding dress, though it no longer looked like something made for joy. The lace was crushed beneath my knees. One sleeve had slipped down my arm. My veil lay on the floor like a dead white bird.
Julian stood near the foot of the bed, calm as winter. The bed itself had not been touched. The rose petals were still scattered across the blanket in the shape his mother’s housekeeper had arranged that afternoon. Two champagne glasses sat full on the side table, catching the light from the chandelier.
An hour earlier, the estate had glittered with music, laughter, and gardenias.
Now Eleanor Whitmore was kneeling in front of me in her silk robe, her silver hair loose around her face, her eyes wide with horror.
“My dear,” she whispered, taking my shaking hands. “Tell me what happened.”
Behind her, Richard Whitmore stood in the splintered doorway, one shoulder lowered from the force of breaking through the oak door. He was a tall man, broad even in old age, and I had never seen him look at Julian with anything but pride.
Until that moment.
“What did you do to her?” Richard demanded.
Julian adjusted his cuffs.
It was such a small, polished gesture that it made my stomach twist. He had done the same thing at the altar when he promised to love me, honor me, and build a life with me. Apparently vows were just another thing men in expensive suits could use as decoration. Humanity, forever finding new ways to ruin tailoring.
“I don’t have to explain anything tonight,” Julian said.
Eleanor rose slowly, as if her body had become older in the space of one breath.
“You will explain,” she said.
Julian looked at me then, and the hatred in his eyes was not sudden. That was the worst part. It had not been born that night. It had been waiting. Patient. Fed. Protected. Hidden behind flowers, dinner reservations, and two years of kisses on my forehead.
“She had to pay,” he whispered.
Eleanor went pale.
“Pay for what?”
Julian’s mouth tightened.
“For the life she ruined.”
The room went silent.
I closed my eyes, but it did not stop the memory of what had happened downstairs during the reception. The garden had been crowded then, full of people lifting crystal glasses and making speeches about family legacy. I had slipped away for a moment because my cheeks hurt from smiling and my heart was too full.
Near the old greenhouse, a man I had prayed never to see again stepped from the shadows.
Victor Lang.
My mother’s former landlord. My father’s creditor. A charming snake in a tuxedo, though calling him a snake felt unfair to snakes, who at least had the decency to hiss before striking.
“You look expensive tonight, Maya,” he had said.
I froze.
Victor smiled like we were old friends.
“Your parents still live in that little rental on Marigold Street, don’t they? Your brother still works.........
