A plan fueled by desperation, hope, and a touch of theatrical flair, courtesy of Edison’s own sister.
The first act of our play was about to begin.
***
A week had flown by in a blur of frantic activity. Plans were finalized, alliances were forged, and nerves were frayed to the thinnest threads. Today was the day — Serena’s wedding.
Standing across the street from the grand church, its stained-glass windows casting a mosaic of colors onto the sidewalk, I clutched my phone in a death grip.
A live feed from a strategically placed camera worn by Annie, disguised as a wedding guest, streamed onto the screen.
My heart raced for the plan to work, hope and trepidation churning in my gut.
Inside the church, the ceremony unfolded with a sickening normalcy. Serena, radiant in a white gown, walked down the aisle, her smile a heartbreaking mix of innocence and misplaced joy. Edison, looking dapper in a black suit, beamed back at her, the picture of a devoted groom.
The officiant, a kind-faced man with a receding hairline, launched into the familiar vows.
My breath hitched as he reached the pivotal question: “We gather here today to witness the union of Serena and Edison. If there be anyone present who knows of any lawful impediment why they may not be joined together in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
A tense silence descended. Edison quickly reached for Serena’s hand and began to slip the ring onto her finger.
He got halfway through the motion — my daughter was almost his wife — when a young woman barely out of her teens, rose from her seat near the back.
“I object!” she cried. All eyes turned towards her.
The officiant, clearly flustered, cleared his throat. “On what grounds?” he asked as Edison froze, the ring stuck halfway on Serena’s finger.
The young woman took a deep breath, her gaze locking with Serena’s.
“This man,” she said, pointing at Edison, “is a fraud. He doesn’t love you. He never has.” Her words bounced off the walls, a bomb exploding in the quiet sanctity of the church.
A collective gasp resonated through the pews, a wave of shocked murmurs rippling through the guests.
Serena’s head snapped towards the woman, her eyes wide with a dawning horror that mirrored the whispers spreading like wildfire.
“What… what are you talking about?” she stammered.
Another woman, older this time, with a weary sadness etched on her face, stood up. “He does this,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “to all of us. Sweet words, empty promises, and then…” she trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.
Across the aisle, another young woman with fiery red hair practically leaped to her feet.
“He took me to Vegas!” she blurted. “Told me it was a romantic getaway, then spent the entire time gambling away my college fund!” She ripped a fake silver necklace from her neck, the one Edison had supposedly bought her, and flung it at his feet with a clatter.
Edison, his face draining of color, looked like a cornered animal. He stammered out a denial, his voice weak and unconvincing.
“No, that’s not true! I… I don’t know them.”
But his words were drowned out by a chorus of voices, each woman sharing a piece of their heartbreaking story. One spoke of a whirlwind romance that ended abruptly when she refused to lend him money.
Another tearfully recounted how he’d used her apartment while she was away on a business trip, throwing wild parties that left her with a hefty damage deposit.
The air crackled with a mix of outrage and disbelief. Serena, her face pale and stricken, looked from one woman to the next, the truth settling in her eyes like a crashing wave.
Finally, a woman with a determined glint in her eye stepped forward. She wasn’t young, but there was a steely resolve in her stance.
“Don’t let him do this to you, honey,” she said. “He’s a user, a conman! A playboy in his sixties!
Run away while you still can!”
Through the phone screen, thanks to Annie’s video call, I watched Serena’s face crumple, the mask of happiness shattering into a million tiny pieces. My heart ached in sympathy. It was my plan.
With Annie and the young girls, her troupe of talented theater artists, we orchestrated an elaborate performance and turned Edison into a character he’d never forget.
“This can’t be happening,” Serena whispered, her voice choked with disbelief as she hurled the wedding ring on the floor.
The church doors burst open, and Serena emerged, a whirlwind of white lace and despair.
She stumbled down the steps, the pristine train of her wedding dress trailing behind her like a tattered dream. Across the street, I watched with a mixture of relief and heartache. My plan, audacious and risky, had worked.
But the cost?
The emotional toll on Serena. I whispered an apology. I knew this heartbreak was nothing compared to the nightmare my daughter almost put herself into.
Relieved, I turned my gaze to my phone.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second. Two police officers, their faces grim, approached Edison, who stood alone on the church steps, the picture of a dejected groom abandoned at the altar.
The officers exchanged a brief look before one of them stepped forward, a pair of handcuffs glinting in his hand. “Mr.
Thorne,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless, “you’re under arrest for suspicion of illegal gambling, outstanding debts, and forgery.”
Edison’s face crumpled, the bravado he’d displayed moments ago dissolving into a pathetic whimper. He stammered out a string of denials, but the officers were unmoved. They led him away, a defeated shadow of the man who’d almost stolen my daughter’s future.
A satisfied smile played on my lips as I smiled through the camera lens.
Annie’s face flashed on the screen, confirming my payment — thirty thousand dollars, the price of her loyalty and theatrical expertise.
With a wink in my direction, she slipped away into the crowd, her gray hair a beacon disappearing into the throng of disappointed wedding guests.
With a deep breath, I pocketed my phone, the weight of the past few days lifting from my shoulders. This was a perfect victory born out of crooked means. Serena was free, and that was all that mattered.
Spotting a taxi pulling up to the curb, I watched as Serena climbed into the back seat, slamming the door shut.
As the cab pulled away, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh, a mixture of relief and sadness escaping my lips.
A few hours later, I stood outside Serena’s apartment. Taking a deep breath, I rapped on the door, the sound hollow and jarring in the quiet hallway. The door creaked open a sliver, revealing my daughter’s tear-stained face framed by a curtain of blonde hair.
“Dad?” she croaked, wiping her tears.
Before I could say another word, she threw herself into my arms and burst into tears.
I held her close, whispering words of comfort, the ache in my own heart mirroring hers.
When her tears finally subsided, she pulled back, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “I’m so sorry, Dad,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I should have listened to you.
I… I shouldn’t have trusted him.”
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” I murmured, squeezing her hand. “We all make mistakes. What matters is that you’re okay.”
We stood there for a moment, a silent understanding passing between us.
Then, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a plane ticket I’d bought in advance, the crisp edges glinting under the soft light.
“Boston,” I said, my voice gentle. “Fashion design school. Remember your dream?”
A twinkle of light returned to her eyes, a spark of determination replacing the despair.
“But…” she stammered, her voice hesitant.
“No buts,” I said, my voice firm but filled with love. “It’s time for a fresh start, sweetheart. A chance to chase your dreams and leave this mess behind.”
She looked down at the ticket, then back at me.
Finally, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie!” I said, joy blooming in my chest as I hugged her back.
To all the parents out there, a word of advice: cherish your children, make them feel loved, and never let the pursuit of anything overshadow the ones who matter most.
Had I done that, perhaps Serena wouldn’t have been so vulnerable to the empty promises of a conman.
But from now on, she would be my world, my focus, my everything. And this is a Dad’s promise to his daughter.
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