Chapter 3 - The Trembling Altar
"Daddy?!" Evelyn roared.
The shock wave of her scream hit the front three rows. She spun around, her manicured finger snapping around to point at Julian’s face like a loaded pistol. The diamonds on her ring caught the sharp light of the chandeliers, blinding in their intensity.
"What is she talking about, Julian?!" Evelyn screamed, her eyes bulging with a terrifying mixture of humiliation and sudden, creeping paranoia. "Who is this child?! Who is her mother?!"
Julian took a slow, awkward step backward. His heel caught on the edge of the elevated altar step, and he swayed for a terrifying moment, almost losing his balance. His right hand reached out to grasp the wooden lectern, his fingers digging into the carved oak so hard his nails turned white.
"Evelyn... wait," Julian managed to choke out. His voice sounded strangled, as if a heavy steel band were tightening around his throat. "Let me... let me think."
"Let you think?!" Senator Vance was up now, his heavy frame pushing past his wife. He stepped into the aisle, his face purple with rising blood pressure. "Sterling! Is this some kind of sick joke?! Who brought a bastard to my daughter’s wedding?!"
"She’s not a bastard!" the little girl cried out suddenly, her small voice rising in fierce, desperate defense. She hugged the baby tighter, her small shoulders shaking violently under the blue dress. "My name is Lily! And Mommy said Daddy would protect us! She said the bad men were coming to the house!"
Julian’s head snapped down toward the girl. The words the bad men seemed to hit him like a physical blow. His jaw worked silently for three seconds before he dropped to his knees right there on the pristine white runner, oblivious to the dirt rubbing off the girl's feet onto his trousers.
He was on the same eye level as the seven-year-old now.
"Lily?" Julian whispered. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he reached out toward her, his fingers hovering inches from her muddy shoulder, afraid to touch her, as if she were made of spun glass that would shatter at his touch. "Lily... where is Clara?"
At the mention of the name Clara, a violent murmur swept through the back of the cathedral.
Evelyn froze. The rage on her face instantly calcified into something far darker, far more dangerous. Her blue eyes narrowed into thin, lethal slits as she looked down at her kneeling fiancé.
"Clara?" Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, terrifying whisper. "Clara Vance? My sister?"
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She took a step closer to Julian, her wedding dress sweeping against his back like a wave of heavy white snow.
"Clara died four years ago in a car crash, Julian," Evelyn whispered, her voice dripping with venom and hidden panic. "So why are you asking this filthy little orphan about my dead sister?"
