Many of my older colleagues had walked this road before me, their stories serving as my grim roadmap.
But my story took an unexpected turn. I hooked a wealthy man, a true "golden ticket," and in a blink, I went from a struggling nobody to a future socialite.
My friends doubted my story, thinking I was making it up. Truth be told, sometimes I thought so too. But in just a few days, I would be walking down the aisle.
I would no longer endure endless rounds of drinks, or endure lecherous patrons. Instead, I was on the verge of stepping into a dream life-living in a mansion, indulging in fine dining, free from the need to work, and spending money without a care, like something straight out of a fairy tale!
In the days leading up to the wedding, many brides spend time with their families to relax and prepare.
For me, though, that wasn't possible-my mother had passed away, leaving our home empty and silent.
Eric Burton, ever the caring fiancé, invited me to stay at his villa instead. But I declined.
I chose to return to the now-empty house I once shared with my mother.
I believed, perhaps foolishly, that in some way, my mother would watch over me from above as I stepped into my new life.
That illusion was shattered the night before the wedding when an unexpected guest knocked on my door.
The visitor was Katarina Berry, though most people simply called her Kat. I had known her for two years while working at the nightclub. During that time, we had been close, like sisters. However, after I left that world, our communication had dwindled.
I hadn't invited anyone from my nightclub days to the wedding, so why had Kat suddenly shown up at my door?
I politely asked her why she had come. Kat's red lips curved slightly as she spoke the words that would destroy my world.
"Your mother's death was caused by Eric."
My head spun as a wave of dizziness swept over me. My legs nearly buckled, unable to support the weight of her revelation.
Kat's expression twisted into a strange, almost satisfied smile. She leaned close to my ear and began whispering in a low voice, revealing truths I wasn't ready to hear.
...
The following day, the wedding proceeded as planned.
The church was serene, with the soft strains of a classical piece filling the space, setting a reverent yet celebratory mood.
I walked forward in a pristine white gown, clutching a bouquet of roses that symbolized Eric's supposed love for me.
The carpet stretched before me, leading to the altar. Above, a large screen displayed a live broadcast of the ceremony, capturing every moment.
As I walked, I couldn't help but lift my eyes to the screen.
There I was, walking down the aisle toward the altar, with Eric waiting for me at the end.
He looked impeccable in his deep navy suit, exuding an air of refinement and warmth. His gaze was kind, tender, just as it had been on every day we'd spent together.
A faint, bitter smile crossed my lips. Slowly, I reached into the bouquet and drew out a gleaming, razor-sharp knife. In one swift motion, I plunged it into Eric's chest.
Blood sprayed from the wound, staining the white gloves I wore.
Eric's eyes widened in sheer horror, disbelief etched across his face.
"Alexandra, why..."
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gripped the knife with both hands, slashing wildly in his direction. My vision blurred, but I continued.
The pristine white gown soaked up the crimson spray, each splatter blooming like blood-red blossoms on a field of snow.