“You invited me,” I said evenly. “I assumed introductions were appropriate.”
The word sons did not need to be spoken aloud. It echoed through the room on its own.
Ronan stepped forward, his voice unsteady. “Eliza. Why did you not tell me.”
I looked at him with a clarity forged through years of solitude and resolve.
“I tried,” I replied. “Your family made sure you never heard me.”
Madeira Knox stood frozen at the aisle entrance, her bouquet trembling in her grasp. She looked between Ronan and the boys, understanding dawning with devastating speed.
“I cannot do this,” she whispered, setting the flowers down as she turned away.
The ceremony dissolved into chaos, but I did not stay to witness the fallout. I led my sons outside, breathing deeply as the cool air grounded me.
A black sedan idled near the gate.
Before I could react, the rear window lowered, revealing a glowing tablet displaying a cartoon Isaac loved. A voice drifted out, falsely warm and dangerously calm.
“Would you like to see more.”
Isaac took a step forward.
I moved instantly, pulling him back into my arms as Ronan rushed toward us, panic etched across his face.
“They are escalating,” he said hoarsely. “This is my mother.”