Page 115 of Collateral Claim
“A dress.”
“You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“I am. I mourn our relationship because this is the last time I want to see you. If I see you again, Daddy, you’ll wish you never had me.” I step back. “I’ll make your death look like an accident and wear this dress at your funeral. Now, don’t panic. Walk me down the aisle, be merry tonight, then get out of my life.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
He looks me up and down. “But the photographer is taking pictures. Look at what you?—”
I interrupt. “Wilfred is waiting.”
My dad looks past my shoulder at my sister. I don’t know what he sees, but he shakes his head and offers me his elbow.
Charlotte lets out a soft bark.
I pat Daddy’s hand. “Good doggy.”
People rise, their shocked faces making me giddy inside. If I’d known that being bad felt this good, I’d have done it sooner. It’s thrilling. Exhilarating even. Too bad my rebellion is short-lived and childish for a grown woman who turned thirty-one a few nights ago. Charlotte and I celebrated on this island. We drank and fell into the bushes. I can’t remember what else we did, but I’m sure it was great.
Wilfred’s expression tells me nothing about what he thinks about my showing up to our wedding in a mourning gown. I hoped to make him doubt his intentions, but he doesn’t seem to care about my little protest. We’re getting married, after all. He wants ink on paper. He wants my dad’s wealth.
Daddy hands me over to Wilfred and goes to sit beside a woman who might be his mistress. She’s young enough to be my classmate, so I hope I’m wrong, but knowing my dad and what I saw at Massio’s mansion, I’ll just be happy if the mistress is here voluntarily.
Wilfred helps me up the steps. At my ear, he whispers, “You humiliated me.”
“It’s not about you.”
“That’s not what society will say.”
“For all they know, you approved of the dress.”
“They know I didn’t.”
“Even better,” slips past my filter.
Wilfred sneaks a hand behind my neck and squeezes. Painfully. I try to move away, but he holds me still so he can whisper in my ear and make it appear as if he’s sweet-talking to me, “I’m going to tie you up and fuck you till dawn tonight. You hear me, you stupid cunt?”
I swallow. He means it. He really does.
“You’re hurting me. Let go of me.” I try to pull away again, but he only tightens his hold. I think he wants to snap my neck. Can he get away with it?
“Begin,” he orders the priest, who steps toward us and wipes the sweat off his forehead. Wilfred keeps his hand on the backof my neck. His thumb digs into my skin. He’s cutting off my circulation, and I’m becoming dizzy.
“Dearly Beloved, we have gathered?—”
A gunshot pierces the silence.
Blood spreads across the priest’s robe, and Wilfred’s hold loosens.
I scream along with everyone else.
Charlotte grabs my hand. “Run!”
Wilfred wobbles on his feet and falls toward the priest, who struggles to hold himself up. He catches Wilfred’s body under his armpits. There’s a hole in the back of Wilfred’s head.
People are running. My dad’s among them. I see him heading toward the exit. I can’t move.
