Chapter 8 - The Unveiling
I stopped three feet from the altar, looking directly through the sheer black lace at my fiancé and his glowing bride.
Rachel backed away slightly, her bouquet shaking in her gloved hands as she stared at my veiled silhouette.
"Logan, my love," I said, my voice echoing clearly across the silent pavilion through a wireless lapel microphone.
"Did you really think a little acid could keep me away from your special day?"
"Maya, please! You’re hysterical! You’ve suffered severe head trauma!" Logan panicked, stepping forward with his hands raised.
"Security! Escort my fiancée back to her medical team immediately!"
"Don't touch her," Marcus commanded, stepping between Logan and the approaching security guards, displaying his badge.
"NYPD Special Victims Unit. Anyone who touches this witness will be arrested on the spot for obstruction of justice."
The high-society guests gasped, several people pulling out their phones to record the escalating nightmare.
I raised my hands slowly to the edge of my black lace veil.
"You told your manager that after what happened to me, no one else would ever want me, Logan," I declared loudly.
"You told him you wanted the world to see you as the heartbroken, devoted caretaker."
"So let the world see what you created."
With a single, smooth motion, I lifted the black veil over my head and tossed it onto the white altar carpet.
The raw, horrific, heavily blistered right side of my face was exposed to the afternoon sun in high-definition clarity.
May you like
Several women in the front row screamed, covering their mouths, while photographers snapped dozens of rapid-fire flashes.
Rachel covered her eyes, taking two steps back and stumbling over the train of her expensive wedding dress.
