Chapter 1

In the wedding hall, the best man, Tom Williams, walked toward me, holding a full bottle of liquor.

I thought he was going to toast me.

The next second, cold liquid poured over my head, running down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging so much that I couldn't open them.

My white wedding dress instantly became see-through, clinging to my body.

The whole room of guests froze for a second, and then they laughed.

My husband, David Shaw, sat at the main table, holding a glass of red wine, giving a slight smirk.

He didn't stand up or say a word.

His mother, Margaret Shaw, was laughing so hard that she was slapping her thigh, saying to the person next to her, "This girl never drinks, but today she finally broke her rule."

Tom threw the empty bottle onto the table and clapped his hands.

He said, "Wendy, it's just a wedding prank. Don't take it to heart."

The liquor burned my nose, and I coughed, wiping my face with my hand.

I looked at David.

He was staring at his phone.

Then I looked at my mom.

She sat in the corner, clutching the strap of her bag, her face full of embarrassment, but she didn't dare say a word.

That was how she'd always been.

I looked at my dad's seat. It was empty.

He passed away three years ago.

Liquor dripped from my chin to the floor.

Not a single person in the room of thirty-something tables handed me a tissue.

I picked up the empty bottle from the table.

Tom was still laughing.

I smashed the bottle over his head.

The bottle shattered on his head, glass shards and blood flying out together. He clutched his head and crouched down.

Screams erupted everywhere.

David finally put down his phone.

He snapped, "Wendy, are you crazy?"

I ignored him.

His father, Frank Shaw, stood up from the main table and rushed over to me in a few quick steps.

Then a slap landed on my left cheek.

He snapped, "Bow and apologize to Tom."

I turned my face back to him.

Frank's hand was still raised in the air.

I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth.

I said, "You want me to bow?"

Frank's eyes widened.

He snapped, "You're just a bumpkin. Marrying into the Shaw family is a blessing for you. What are you making a scene for?"

I glanced around the room.

All the guests were standing up. Some were filming, some whispering, some gloating.

No one was helping me.

I tore off my veil and threw it on the floor.

I said, "I'm not getting married."

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, David shouted, "Wendy, if you dare walk out that door, don't even think about coming back."

I didn't look back.

My high heels hit the red carpet, each step steady.

Liquor kept dripping, my wedding dress dragging behind me like a shredded flag.

I flipped over the sign-in table at the door, and the wedding decorations scattered all over the floor.

Margaret wailed behind me, "She's gone crazy. This woman has gone crazy."

*****

I pushed open the hotel doors, and the August sun hit my eyes directly.

It was 95 °F outside, and the smell of liquor on my body was rising, choking me.

My phone rang in my bag.

I stood on the steps and pulled it out. It was my mom.

I answered.

My mom pleaded, "Wendy, come back. Apologize to them. I'm begging you."

I said, "Mom, I'm not coming back."

"If you don't come back, what are you going to do? You've quit your job and given up your apartment. Where are you going?"

I hung up the phone.

She wasn't wrong.

To marry into the Shaw family, I quit my job at the design firm, gave up my shared apartment, and used all my savings to cover the shortfall on the marriage settlement.

Now I only had 100 dollars, a phone, and a soaked wedding dress.

I stood by the side of the road for ten minutes.

A taxi stopped in front of me, and the driver rolled down the window to look at me.

He asked, "Miss, what's going on with you?"

I said, "Take me to the train station, please."

"Your dress..."

"Let's go."

The driver didn't ask any more questions.

*****

The train station was packed, and me in a soaked wedding dress looked like some kind of street art show.

People were snapping photos, pointing and whispering.

I bought the next ticket out to Riverdale.

That was where I spent four years in college.

It was also the only place I still had friends.

On the train, I messaged my college roommate, Sophie Lane: [I'm heading to Riverdale. Can you let me crash for a few days?]

Sophie replied instantly: [What happened?]

I sent her a selfie.

My wet hair was plastered to my face, my left cheek was bright red from a slap, and my wedding dress was stained with liquor and blood.

Sophie called me right away.

She said, "Wendy, be honest with me. Who hit you?"

I said, "My father-in-law."

"Send me your location. I'll pick you up. We'll talk when we meet."

The train ride took three hours.

I leaned against the window, scrolling through the seventeen messages David sent me.

The first three were him cussing me out.

The next five were threats.

The last nine were all about making me pay for the wedding.

I blocked him and then deleted him.

*****

By the time I got to Riverdale, it was already dark.

Sophie was waiting at the exit. She saw me and froze for three seconds.

Then she pulled me into a hug.

Sophie said, "Come on, let's get you home and cleaned up."

She didn't ask what happened or dig for details.