He cornered her in front of the venue staff, demanding my phone. Under his fierce, relentless questioning, Rachel finally broke. She did not show remorse; she simply exploded, screaming that she had done it to save Anna’s wedding from being ruined by my “theatrics.” Rick had raced upstairs, kicked the heavy wooden door off its hinges, and found me unconscious on the floor in a pool of blood and fluid.
“She’s dead to me,” Rick said, his voice dropping into a deadly, quiet whisper that sent chills down my spine. “I’ve already cut off her monthly financial support. I’m taking her to court, and I’m going to make sure she rots in a cell for endangering your life and our daughter’s.”
Before I could absorb the full weight of his fury, the hospital room door opened. Anna and Emma walked in. My heart sank, expecting tension, but Anna was still in her white wedding dress, her eyes swollen from crying. She went past her brother entirely and wrapped her arms gently around me, sobbing.
“I am so sorry,” Anna sobbed. “She told me she did it for me. I told her I hate her. I told her she ruined my wedding day far worse than a medical emergency ever could have.”
Emma stood at the foot of the bed, her face fixed with pure determination. Both sisters made it absolutely clear: they were cutting Rachel out of their lives completely. They chose me, Rick, and baby May over their own mother. Their unwavering support sent a wave of relief through me, but the trauma of that locked room still haunted my mind. Because we were consumed by the overwhelming exhaustion of caring for a newborn, I eventually convinced Rick to pause the lawsuit. I only wanted peace. I wanted to heal.
