Chapter 2 - The Sound of Thunder
The sharp, metallic clack-clack of the microphone sound check shattered the heavy silence of St. Jude’s Cathedral.
Ethan didn't raise his voice. He didn't scream. He didn't engage in a shouting match with his sister.
He stepped directly between me and Olivia. His tall, broad-shouldered six-foot-two frame blocked her completely from my line of sight, shielding my body with his own tailored black tuxedo.
He looked down at me first. His deep brown eyes, usually gentle and warm, were soft with an overwhelming, painful tenderness. He reached out with his left hand, his fingers gently brushing against my cheek, wiping away a single stray tear that had managed to escape.
"You are the strongest, most beautiful woman in this world," Ethan whispered to me, his voice rich and steady, carried clearly through the church's state-of-the-art speaker system. "And today, you are becoming my wife."
He turned slowly around to face his family.
The atmosphere in the sanctuary instantly plummeted forty degrees.
The warmth was gone from Ethan's face. The polite, dutiful son Margaret had spent thirty years manipulating had vanished. In his place stood the chief executive who had turned Blackwood Medical Group’s research division into a multi-billion-dollar success. His face was carved from granite, his eyes as cold and unforgiving as arctic ice.
Olivia’s confident smile faltered slightly under her brother's gaze. She raised the wig a bit higher, trying to maintain her arrogant posture. "Ethan, don't look at me like that! I did this for you! She lied to you! She’s been wearing a disguise! She’s sick, Ethan! She’s broken!"
"Drop it," Ethan said into the microphone.
The two words were spoken with a low, terrifying stillness that made several guests in the front row flinch.
"Ethan, darling, don't make a scene," Margaret said, rising smoothly from her pew, her silk dress rustling softly. She smoothed her pearl necklace, her voice dripping with artificial maternal concern. "Olivia was a bit dramatic, yes, but she has a point. The Blackwood name represents health, perfection, and vitality. We cannot have the face of our family being... a woman who might not survive the year. Think of the board meeting on Monday. Think of the stock price!"
Ethan let out a short, hollow laugh that sent a chill through the congregation.
"The stock price," Ethan repeated into the microphone. "Thank you, Mother. Thank you for reminding everyone in this sacred room exactly what you value."
He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek, black digital control pad.
"For twenty-eight years," Ethan said, his voice echoing off the stone arches, "I listened to you tell me that family loyalty was everything. I allowed you to control my career, my finances, and my life because I thought you were protecting us. But over the last six months, while Eleanor was lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life, I realized what you truly are."
"Ethan, put that away!" Margaret snapped, her tone dropping its maternal warmth, revealing a sharp, icy edge of authority. "You are embarrassing this family in front of the mayor, the governor, and our top investors!"
"No, Mother," Ethan said, tapping the screen of the control pad. "You embarrassed yourself three months ago. You just didn't know the cameras were running."
Above the altar, mounted high on the sanctuary walls, were three massive digital screens designed to display liturgical texts and high-definition video feeds of the ceremony for guests sitting in the rear pews.
May you like
With a soft electronic beep, all three screens flickered, turned bright blue, and then opened a video file.
Margaret went instantly pale. Olivia took a sharp step backward, her hand dropping the wig to the floor.
