Chapter 3 - The Ghost Bride of St. Matthews
I didn't sleep that night. While Tessa slept fitfully in her old childhood bedroom down the hall, I sat at my kitchen island with the laptop glow illuminating the dark room, digging through digital archives, cached local newspapers, and forgotten wedding blogs.
The picture of Caleb and Caroline painted a chilling picture. She had been a sweet-faced ballet instructor from a modest family in a neighboring town. According to an archived society piece, the wedding at St. Matthews was supposed to be the social event of the season, orchestrated entirely by Vivian Sutton.
But three weeks before the date, the wedding was called off. The official statement cited "irreconcilable differences." Local gossip blogs hinted at something darker: financial control, overbearing interference, and a bride who suddenly vanished from the Sutton social circle entirely.
And Caleb? According to the articles, he had simply gone along with whatever his mother decided then, too. He had played the grieving, dutiful son, letting his mother manage the fallout while he kept his head down.
My blood ran cold. Tessa wasn't experiencing a new anomaly. She was living through a carefully scripted rerun, and Caleb was treating her the exact same way he had treated Caroline.
At 7:00 AM, my doorbell rang.
It wasn't a gentle knock. It was a sharp, aggressive hammering that echoed through the quiet morning house.
I stood up quickly, wrapping a robe tighter around myself, and walked down the hall. Before I could even reach the handle, the door swung open—Caleb had a spare key we had given him months ago during a grocery run.
He stood on the porch, looking disheveled, his hair unbrushed, his eyes bloodshot. He had clearly spent the night driving or pacing.
“Marilyn,” he breathed, stepping past me into the foyer without waiting for an invitation. “Is Tessa here? I need to talk to her. My phone calls are going straight to voicemail.”
“She’s sleeping, Caleb,” I said, shutting the front door firmly behind him. I crossed my arms, looking at him with a coldness I didn't bother to hide. “And after last night, I don't think she wants to hear what you have to say.”
“She’s overreacting!” Caleb blurted out, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know my mom was overbearing with the dinner. I talked to her! I told her she crossed a line! But Tessa is making a mountain out of a molehill. She’s threatening to blow up our entire engagement over a church venue and a dinner bill?”
“Is that all you think this is?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “A church venue and a dinner bill?”
“What else is there?” he demanded, throwing his hands up. “My family has traditions! We have expectations! Is it really that hard for her to just nod, smile, and let my mother feel important for a few months?”
I stepped closer to him, letting the full weight of my anger settle into my gaze.
“It’s not about the church, Caleb. It’s about the fact that you have zero spine, zero boundaries, and a terrifying habit of letting your mother dictate every single aspect of your life.” I paused, letting my words land like heavy stones. “Or is this just your standard operating procedure? Is that why Caroline left you?”
Caleb froze.
The color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking like a ghost in the morning light. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The defensive anger vanished instantly, replaced by a sudden, sickening panic.
“What... what did you say?” he whispered.
“Caroline,” I repeated, stepping right up to him. “Your first fiancée. The one who was supposed to get married at St. Matthews four years ago. Why did she leave, Caleb? Did she also realize that marrying you meant marrying your mother?”
Before Caleb could stammer out a defense, heavy footsteps sounded behind us.
May you like
Tessa stood at the end of the hallway, fully dressed, her eyes wide and hollow as she stared at Caleb. She had heard every single word.
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