She stepped into the hall wearing the dress my father had once custom-made just for her, now stained with time.
In her hand, she clutched a kitchen knife, its blade catching the light as she stared directly at me.
Three years had carved deep lines into her face.
The crescent-shaped eyes that once danced with warmth now gleamed with icy detachment.
The moment she appeared, the entire room fell into stunned silence.
Then chaos broke loose; guests scrambled in panic, rushing to corners, curling up in fear.
Even the streamers and reporters froze for a moment before shakily pointing their cameras at her.
As the lens zoomed in on her emotionless face and that blade in her grip, the livestream chat lit up like wildfire.
[Holy crap, that’s the woman who murdered her whole family three years ago! She just walked in like nothing happened?]
[It’s her daughter’s wedding today. Did she really show up with a knife? Is she going to kill her too?]
[She must be here to finish what she started. Three years ago, the daughter survived. Now she’s back to tie up loose ends!]
[This woman’s a monster. Who slaughters their own family?]
[Oh my god, just watching this gives me chills. Bride, run!]