I Made a Wedding Dress for My Granddaughter – What Happened to It Hours Before the Ceremony Was Unforgivable

Grayscale shot of a startled woman | Source: Pexels

Emily stood in the middle of the room, her hands covering her mouth, tears already streaming down her face. The dress lay on the floor at her feet… slashed, torn, and destroyed.

The satin skirt had long jagged cuts through it. The lace sleeves were ripped away. Someone had torn the zipper right out of the back. Dark stains covered the bodice. And the pearls lay scattered across the carpet like broken dreams.

“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”

Emily dropped to her knees, gathering the ruined fabric in her arms. “Who would do this? Grandma, who would do this to us?”

I scanned the room, my vision blurring with rage and grief. And then I saw her.

James’s mother, Margaret, sat in the vanity chair, her hands folded in her lap. She’d arrived early, claiming she wanted to help Emily get ready. And she sat there with the faintest smile on her perfectly painted lips.

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