Preston stepped even closer to me and extended his hand in an aggressive demand for the property. “The keys, Lydia,” he repeated with a hardened smile, “because you promised Sarah a significant wedding gift to start our new life together.”
“I promised her love and a home,” I replied quietly while I wiped the corner of my mouth where I could taste a faint hint of blood. His smile disappeared instantly, replaced by a look of pure coldness that chilled me to the bone.
“Love does not pay the property taxes or the maintenance on an old house,” he snapped back at me with a sneer. I looked him in the eye and said that while love might not pay the bills, greed always leaves fingerprints on everything it touches.
Something flickered in his eyes for a second, and Cassandra leaned forward sharply to intervene. “What exactly is that supposed to mean, Lydia, or are you just becoming senile in your old age?” she asked with a sharp edge to her voice.
I straightened my back carefully even though my cheek burned with the heat of the slap he had delivered. My heart did not race with fear, but instead, it went completely still like the heavy air before a massive storm touches the ground.
Sarah reached toward me with a desperate look in her eyes and begged me not to ruin her wedding day over a piece of land. I looked at her and saw the little girl who used to chase chickens barefoot through the yard and the teenager who learned to drive tractors on her father’s lap.
I realized in that moment that Preston had not just manipulated her, but he had actually trained her to fear disappointing him above all else. I looked back at him and told him that he had made a very serious mistake by underestimating me tonight.
Preston laughed at my warning and told me that I was the one making a mistake I would regret for the rest of my life. I turned away without another word and walked past the stunned guests and the flower arches that lined the exit.
I walked past the photographer who was lowering his camera as if he had just witnessed a crime scene instead of a celebration. Outside, the cold October wind hit my face harder than Preston’s hand had, but it helped clear my head for what I had to do next.
I reached into my purse to take out my phone and called the one man Preston never imagined I would know personally. The call connected on the second ring, and I heard the deep voice of a friend I had known since high school.
“Lydia, is everything okay at the wedding?” Sheriff Wyatt asked with a tone of concern that made me feel safe for the first time all evening. I stared through the windows of the reception hall and told him that it was time to move forward with our plan.
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before his voice hardened into something professional and dangerous. “Did he hit you, Lydia, and did he demand the property in front of the witnesses we discussed?” he asked.
I told him that he had done exactly that in front of everyone, and the Sheriff told me he was on his way with the rest of the team. I hung up the phone and slipped it back into my purse while I stood on the gravel driveway waiting for the inevitable confrontation.
Thirty seconds later, the large doors of the reception hall burst open and Preston marched toward me with his groomsmen trailing behind him like backup dancers. “You think storming out of your own daughter’s wedding makes you look dramatic, but it just makes you look unstable,” he sneered.
