The clinking of glasses filled the air as guests settled into their seats, their faces glowing with the warmth of celebration. The atmosphere in the Rosewood Estate ballroom was a symphony of joy and camaraderie, echoing the promise of a beautiful future — at least on the surface. But beneath the layers of silk and sequins, a silent tension simmered, waiting to erupt.
Caroline, my mother-in-law, scanned the room with a predatory elegance, her eyes narrowing as though assessing a chessboard. She was the perfect image of a society matron, but her actions revealed the truth — she was a tactician, and this wedding was her arena. The moment she slipped that pill into what she thought was my glass, the game shifted.As Dylan took my hand, his warmth was a stark contrast to the chill that had settled over my spine. His eyes danced with blissful ignorance, a stark reminder of all he didn’t know. I squeezed his hand, a silent vow to protect the love we celebrated today from the shadows lurking in the corners.
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