The grand hall of the mansion was filled with bright light and soft music. White marble floors reflected the shine of the big crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Dozens of guests dressed in fancy black suits and elegant evening dresses stood around the room, clapping their hands and smiling happily. It was supposed to be the best night of Clara's life. Her father, Arthur, stood in the center of the dance floor holding her close for their father-daughter dance. He wore a neat grey pinstripe suit and looked proud of his only child. Clara was wearing a white lace wedding dress that fell to the floor like a dream. But as Arthur stepped closer to spin her around, he noticed how stiff her body was in his arms.
She was not smiling. Her head was tilted down, keeping her face hidden beneath the long silk veil. Arthur gently placed his hand under her chin to lift her head up so he could look into her eyes. When the thin lace slipped away from her cheek, Arthur stopped moving completely. The soft music kept playing, but the world around him went totally quiet. Clara’s face was bruised badly. Dark blue and purple marks covered her left cheek, and a small red cut was visible near her eye. Fresh tears spilled down her pale face, soaking into the lace of her dress as she trembled in his arms.
Arthur gasped softly, his heart sinking right into his stomach. He raised both of his hands, cradling her bruised cheeks with incredible care as if she might break into pieces. His eyes were wide with shock, filled with pure love and terrible hurt for his daughter. Clara tried to turn her head away in deep embarrassment, but Arthur held her gently, forcing her to stay put. He looked down into her tear-filled eyes, his own throat tightening up with raw emotion. He could hear the crowd laughing and chatting around them, completely unaware of the horror hiding under the veil.
Arthur: Look at me, sweetheart. Who dared to touch you?
Clara: Dad, please don't look. Just keep dancing, please.
Arthur: Tell me who did this to you right now.
Clara: It doesn't matter anymore. It is too late, Dad.
Arthur felt a terrible heat rising up through his chest. He had spent his entire life protecting Clara after her mother passed away years ago. He had built a strong business from scratch, saved every dollar, and bought a home just to keep her safe and comfortable. Now, seeing her face ruined by violence made his blood run ice cold. He looked past her shoulder toward the head table where her new husband was standing. Julian, the wealthy young man from a famous high-society family, was leaning against a table with a drink in his hand. He looked completely calm, wearing a bright royal blue tuxedo that made him stand out from everyone else in the room.
Julian saw Arthur staring at him and did not even blink. Instead, he straightened his shiny lapels and took a slow step forward onto the dance floor. A smug, mean smile spread across his handsome face. He walked past the shocked wedding guests as if he owned the entire room, showing no fear or shame at all. The guests stopped clapping one by one as they noticed the strange silence spreading from the middle of the floor. Julian stopped just two feet away from Arthur and Clara, looking down his nose at the older man with utter contempt.
Julian: She needed to learn her place. She's my wife now.
Arthur: You touch her again, and I will destroy you.
Julian: You can't touch me, old man. Check the prenup.