Chapter2
The Escape
Naomi
The soft squeak of my sneakers echoes in the corridor like an irritating countdown to my doom.I grew up in this church, dragged here every Sunday by my mother and then later by my father, who believed that regular attendance somehow balanced out the sins he committed Monday through Saturday.But mostly, I have not-so-fond memories of being forced to attend Sunday Mass here, sitting in uncomfortable wooden pews while listening to sermons about forgiveness and redemption that felt increasingly hypocritical as I grew older and gained a deeper understanding of my family's business.
That feeling of suffocating hypocrisy is not much different than how I feel now, walking through these same corridors in a wedding dress that costs more than most people's cars.
My dress swishes around me, heavy and cumbersome with its layers of silk and tulle, but I push forward with determined steps.I can hear the faint echoes of the Dixieland jazz band my father insisted on warming up in the distance, their melody haunting and melancholy—more like a funeral hymn dressed up as a wedding march.
Because that's what this is—a death sentence for the woman I've spent five years becoming.
A few weeks ago, I was living my best life in Los Angeles with my bestie, Megan, far away from my family's world of violence and control.I had a beautiful apartment that I shared with her, and I had the freedom to make my own choices about everything, from what I ate for breakfast to who I slept with.
But in the blink of an eye, my father destroyed all of that.He didn't just kidnap me—he used Megan as leverage, turning my best friend into collateral damage in a war I'd been running from for years.Now I'm back home under my father's thumb, about to marry the son of a man who destroyed my family, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
My life is over.The life I built, the woman I became—it's all gone.
Probably serves me right, though.That best friend Megan I had—well, she hates me now, and I don't blame her.I lied to her for years about who I was, where I came from, and why I could never talk about my family.What kind of sociopath does that to someone they claim to care about?
I tighten my grip on the hem of my dress and quicken my pace, my chest tightening with every step.The soft glow of the cathedral's candlelit grandeur fades behind me, replaced by the cool, sterile quiet of the church's service corridors where the real work happens—food preparation, maintenance, storage.It's fitting, somehow, that I'm sneaking through this area to escape my own wedding.
The double doors to freedom are just ahead, the service exit tucked behind the kitchen where catering staff bring in supplies and take out trash.I can almost taste the New Orleans air—damp and heavy with the promise of rain, laced with the scent of jasmine and the earthy smell of the river.
"Josephine!"
Nicole's sharp voice cuts through the stillness like a blade, and my muscles lock up as adrenaline floods my system in waves.Of course, she'd find me—that's her job, to keep me in line, to make sure I don't embarrass the family by running away from my own wedding like some hysterical heroine in a TV drama.
I spin around, forcing my face into what I hope passes for a casual expression."What, Nikki?"
The heels of Nicole's 4-inch Louboutins click against the linoleum as she approaches, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowing with suspicion.She's dressed in an elegant navy dress that probably costs more than I earned in a month back in Cali; her hair and makeup are perfect, despite the humid Louisiana weather.
"Did you handle the flower situation?"
"Yes."The lie falls off my tongue with practiced ease—I've had years of experience lying to people close to me.
"So everything's fine?"She scans my face like she's trying to read my thoughts.
"Yep."
Her mouth turns up in disbelief."So it's just a coincidence that you're heading for the service entrance?"
Think fast.
”I need air.It's suffocating in here."
The excuse is weak, but it's not entirely untrue.The church does feel suffocating with all that incense and expectation pushing down on me like a weighted blanket.
She cocks her head, studying me like a hawk."You're not planning on pulling something, are you?Because if you do, you know who's going to pay the price."
The unspoken threat hangs between us, thick and suffocating.My father has made it clear that if I run again, there will be severe consequences for the people I leave behind.Nicole, Gabriel, Claude—everyone will suffer for my defiance.And if I runtosomeone for help...well, Megan and Hunter have already paid that price once.
I force a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears and gesture at my dress with theatrical helplessness."Do I look like I'm in any shape to 'pull something'?I just need five minutes to myself before I commit to a life of suffocation."
Her gaze lingers on my face, searching for cracks in my façade, looking for any sign that I'm planning something stupid."You're the most miserable bride I've ever seen."
I don't say anything or move an inch, just maintain eye contact and try to project an image of resigned acceptance.
