Chapter 3 - The Hostage Bride
Downstairs in the dimly lit study, Arthur poured a glass of brandy with shaking hands and offered it to Elise. She sat huddled on the leather sofa, her beautiful silk gown now looking like a crumpled shroud.
"Drink this, sweetheart. It will calm your nerves," Arthur said gently.
"I don't want it," Elise sobbed, staring blankly at the fireplace. "He looked at me like he wanted to kill me, Arthur. The man who kissed me at the altar today... he vanished the second that bedroom door locked."
Thomas, Arthur’s younger brother, stood near the window, peering out into the darkness. "We need to call the authorities, Arthur. This is madness. Damien has clearly suffered some kind of psychotic break."
Before Arthur could reply, heavy footsteps descended the grand staircase. Damien walked into the study, his face an emotionless mask, with Martha trailing behind him, looking utterly devastated.
"No one is calling the police," Damien stated coldly. He walked straight toward Elise, who shrank back against the leather cushions.
"Damien, stay back," Arthur warned, stepping between his son and the terrified bride.
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"Ask her, Dad," Damien demanded, pointing a trembling finger at Elise. "Ask your perfect new daughter-in-law where she was on the night of October 14th, five years ago. Ask her why she sold her silver sedan to a scrap yard three days later."
Elise’s eyes widened in sheer panic. The color completely drained from her face, leaving her as pale as a ghost.
