I never imagined my wedding night would end with me huddled on the bedroom floor shaking in fear, while my new husband coldly said I had to pay for a sin I never even knew I committed.

I sat on the floor of that empty bedroom for a long time after he said it.

The champagne in the flutes went flat. The rose petals curled at the edges. Julian didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stared at the wall, his face blank as stone.

I thought of Sienna.

My baby girl. Eighteen years old, bright as a firework, dead on the side of a back road five years ago in a rainstorm. The police said the driver had been drunk. They said the driver had run, leaving Sienna trapped in the burning car.

They said the driver was Audrey.

I’d refused to believe it at first.

Audrey was Sienna’s best friend. They were inseparable. She’d been at our house every single day for three years. She’d baked Sienna’s birthday cakes. She’d held my hand through Sienna’s first heartbreak.

But the evidence was there.

Her car. Her blood on the airbag. A witness who said he’d seen a girl with long dark hair running from the wreck.

And Audrey… she’d run.

She’d left town the next morning without a word. No call. No note. No explanation.

For five years, I’d carried that hate like a stone in my pocket. For five years, I’d thought the girl I’d loved like a daughter had murdered my baby and left her to burn.

Then two years ago, Julian had come home with her on his arm.

He’d said she’d changed. He’d said she’d come back to make amends. I’d been furious at first. I’d screamed at him to get her out of my house.

But Audrey had stood in my kitchen, her head bowed, and cried.

She’d said she thought about Sienna every single day. She’d said she’d spent every night of those five years wishing she could trade places with her. She’d said she’d do anything, anything at all, to earn my forgiveness.

Slowly, stupidly, I’d let her back in.

I’d let her become my daughter all over again.

And all that time, my own son had been planning this.

I stood up. My legs shook so bad I had to grab the doorframe.

“Look at me,” I said.

Julian didn’t move.

“I said look at me.”

He lifted his head. There was no remorse in his eyes. Only that same cold, burning hate.

“You married her,” I said. My voice cracked. “You stood in front of God and all our family and promised to love her, to protect her, to cherish her. And all you wanted was to hurt her?”

“She killed Sienna,” he said. His voice rose, sharp and raw. “She got drunk, she crashed the car, and she left my little sister to die alone in the dark. And then she ran. She got to go on with her life. She got to smile, and breathe, and fall in love while Sienna rots in the ground.”

He stood up, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I wanted to take everything from her. I wanted her to know what it feels like to lose the person you love most. I wanted her to feel safe, and happy, and like she finally had a family… and then I wanted to burn it all to the ground. Just like she burned ours.”

I slapped him.

Hard.

The sound echoed off the walls. His head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed across his cheek.

For a second, he looked shocked. Like he couldn’t believe his own mother would hit him.

“How dare you,” I whispered. “How dare you use Sienna’s name to justify this cruelty. She loved Audrey. She would have hated what you did. She would have hated you.”

His face crumpled.

“I did it for her,” he said, his voice breaking. “I did it for Sienna.”

“You did it for you,” I said. “You did it because you were angry, and you were weak, and hurting an innocent girl was easier than facing the fact that we’ll never get her back.”

I turned to leave.

He grabbed my arm. His hand was shaking.

“Where are you going?”

“To her,” I said. “To the daughter who actually needs me right now.”

I pulled my arm free and walked out.

Down the hall, the guest room door was slightly ajar.

I could hear Audrey crying. Soft, broken sobs, the kind you make when you don’t want anyone to hear you.

Richard was sitting on the floor outside the door, his head in his hands. George stood beside him, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the carpet.

Richard looked up at me.

“He told you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

I nodded.

“About Sienna.”

Richard closed his eyes.

“I always thought there was something wrong,” he said quietly. “The way he looked at her sometimes. Like he was waiting for something. I told myself it was just love. I told myself I was being paranoid.”

He let out a ragged breath.

“I failed her, Clara. I let that boy bring her into our house, and I let him hurt her, and I didn’t see a thing.”

I knelt down and put my hand on his shoulder.

“We both did,” I said.

I stood up and knocked softly on the guest room door.

“Audrey?”

The crying stopped.

“Baby, it’s me. Can I come in?”

Silence.