Page 55 of Endgame
And there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it, not even the man who ruined my life, the father of the bride.
Earlier, he sent me a menacing glare when he got here. He’s furious, but he’s giving her to me, nonetheless.
Me, her future husband.
Fuck. That word.Husband. I’m still working hard to wrap my head around it.
Happiness. Marriage. Having children, bringing another life to this godforsaken world.
Once upon a time, that was the dream.
That dream is long gone. In its place, there’s emptiness. Bitterness.
I’m forced to marry my enemy.
I clasp my hands in front of me, listening to the soft, melodic classical music humming in the background.
This endless wait, it’s dangerous. Thoughts rise to the surface. Thoughts I shouldn’t have.
She was beautiful today.
Beautiful when she let me take care of her.
Beautiful when she screamed.
Exquisite when she frowned.
Exquisite? Fuck, I’m being ridiculous.
These thoughts are even more ridiculous.
What matters is hurting her. Making her cry. Punishing her and her parents through her first, and eventually taking them down.
“You don’t have to go through with this,” Stafford whispers.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” My teeth are clenched so the monsters in front of me won’t read my lips. “You’ve helped me plan this.”
“I know, but now, looking at these people…” A sigh escapes him. “Doesn’t feel like we’re accomplishing anything. And…”
“Spit it out.”
“I don’t like it.” Another sigh. “I was wrong before. There have been enough casualties in this war, mainly you. Just let it go, man. Fuck them.”
From where my friend is standing, it makes sense.
They’re vultures, this group of people. Every last one of them.
Starting with Molly Clarke, my future mother-in-law. She sits in the front row, her blonde hair pulled back. Her gown is as green as the hateful gaze she aims at me.
Next to her is her best friend, Lina Bernard. Brown hair, blue eyes. Nothing memorable about her or her husband, Henderson.
Behind them sits Ivy, their thirty-five-year-old daughter. A six-foot-tall woman in a bright pink dress, her blonde hair cropped short like her father’s. Tanner, her husband, has his bald head glistening with sweat. This event, along with everything that has to do with the Royalty, excites him. That’s why, though he came from old money, he took her last name.
Some people can never have enough power. Or wealth.
Much like Stafford’s family. They’re on the other side of the aisle, sneaking glances behind them. Whispering in each other’s ears.
His mother, Susanna, wears a beige gown. His father, Grey, is in a blue suit. Red hair freshly trimmed, his green, narrowed eyes are aimed at me. He doubts me.
