“You’re looking for a mother, not a wife,” my cousin added with open disdain.
“She’ll use you and throw you away when she’s done,” my father said, his voice heavy with disappointment that hurt more than any insult.
Still, I stood my ground. I defended her again and again, even as the entire town labeled me foolish, desperate, or greedy for wanting something beyond what they thought I deserved.
The wedding took place at a restored estate in the Virginia countryside. White flowers lined the paths, candles flickered in the warm night air, and soft classical music made everything feel almost unreal.
But there were things I couldn’t ignore.
Too many men in dark suits standing silently around the edges. Too many subtle earpieces. Too much security for something that should have been simple.
I noticed it all.
And still… I chose not to question it.
Because I loved her.
That night, when we were finally alone in a large, dimly lit room, Margaret slowly closed the door behind us. Her hands trembled slightly as she placed a thick envelope and a set of car keys on the table.
“This is your wedding gift,” she said softly. “There’s money… and a truck in your name.”