Every Time I Tried to Get Married, They Destroyed the Ring
Lily · Completed · 6.4k Words
Introduction
To protect myself against my own parents, I hired a ten-man security detail.
I specifically chose the most isolated chapel in the suburbs.
Because at my first three weddings, they acted like absolute maniacs—destroying my rings and making me a complete laughingstock in front of everyone.
I just couldn't understand what kind of parents would do such a thing.
This time, I actually thought I could finally marry Liam in peace.
Until the bridal suite door was kicked open.
And my dad, once again, snatched my diamond ring away.
Chapter 1
"Chloe, you are not getting married today!"
The door violently burst open, driven by Dad's furious roar.
I gasped instinctively. The lipstick slipped from my trembling fingers, hitting the vanity counter with a sharp clack.
I spun around, shaking all over as I stared at Mom and Dad framed in the doorway.
"How the hell did you find us?!" I demanded, my voice pitching into a scream. "I didn't tell you!"
Mom clung frantically to Dad's arm, her face white as a sheet.
"Chloe, honey, listen to Mom—take off that dress! There is something wrong with the ring! If you put it on, you'll regret it for the rest of your life!"
"Wrong with it? What on earth could possibly be wrong with it?!" I finally snapped, screaming hysterically.
Before the words even left my mouth, Dad lunged at the marble vanity, snatching the velvet jewelry box right off the counter.
My eyes locked onto the custom platinum diamond ring now pinched between his fingers. Liam had poured more than half a year’s savings into it, commissioning an Italian artisan to hand-craft every single millimeter.
This wasn't the first time.
This was my fourth wedding. Or, more accurately, my fourth attempt at actually finishing one.
The first time was at City Hall. Right at the exact second Liam was about to slide the band onto my finger, Mom staged a dramatic fainting spell. In the ensuing chaos, she somehow managed to flush the ring down a restroom toilet.
The second time was a lavish affair at a Manhattan hotel. Just as the minister called for the exchanging of the rings, Mom rushed the altar and snatched the velvet box.
"The diamond's luster is too dull—it's a bad omen!" she had shrieked, before sprinting out and hurling it straight into the Hudson River right in front of hundreds of stunned guests.
By the third time, we had learned our lesson. We locked the rings in a heavy-duty safe beforehand.
But on the eve of the wedding, Dad somehow pried the safe door open.
Like an absolute madman, he took a heavy emergency hammer and smashed the matching gold bands against the marble countertop until they were flattened and mangled beyond recognition.
He had stood there panting, roaring at me, "You're allergic to this alloy! You'd go into anaphylactic shock!"
I became the ultimate punchline of New York's social circles. Everyone whispered the same thing: Arthur and Martha had lost their minds, completely incapable of bearing the sight of their daughter's happiness.
"Give it back!" I lunged forward in my heels, desperate to claw back what was rightfully mine.
"Don't touch it!" Dad bellowed, abruptly jerking backward.
What happened next broke me completely.
Dad fished a thick, black, corrosion-resistant glass vial from his overcoat. As he twisted off the cap, the acrid, burning stench of chemical acid instantly flooded the cramped room.
"Arthur, hurry! We're out of time!" Mom urged frantically, her terrified eyes darting toward the window again and again.
"No—!"
Over my scream, Dad dropped the priceless diamond ring straight into the vial without a second of hesitation. The powerful acid boiled violently, hissing out a thick, pungent white smoke. Right before my eyes, the ring—the symbol of all my love and hope—dissolved into a murky, toxic sludge.
My knees buckled. I slumped heavily onto the floor, the fight draining entirely out of me.
Why?
Why hound me time and time again to settle down with a good man, only to resort to the most extreme, psychotic measures to sabotage me on my actual wedding day?
"When is this torture going to end?!" The tears finally broke, streaming down my face as I shrieked at them in absolute despair. "Will you only be satisfied when you've driven me to my grave?!"
Just then, the dressing room door burst open again. Liam rushed in, sharp in his black tuxedo. Taking one look at the smoking vial on the floor and my crumpled, weeping form, he instantly understood what had happened.
Liam didn't erupt. Instead, he simply crossed the room, pulled me up into a tight, protective embrace, and fixed Mom and Dad with an icy, lethal glare.
"This is the last time," Liam said, his voice vibrating with barely contained fury. "Ring or no ring, I am marrying Chloe today."
"Don't you dare!" Dad spat, his eyes bloodshot. He leveled a trembling finger right at Liam's face. "If you dare to marry her, you're going to get her killed!"
I had heard enough of these insane, twisted excuses.
"Enough! I've had enough!" I roared. "What the hell do you want from me?! You've already ruined four of my weddings!"
"Chloe, please, we are purely doing all of this for your own good..." Mom pleaded, taking a cautious step forward.
"For my own good?" I sneered. "It's always the same utterly absurd excuses! Trampling all over my dignity, making everyone in New York look at me like some cursed punchline—is this what you call 'for my own good'?!"
"How dare you speak to your mom like that!" Dad snapped, cutting me off.
"Then how should I speak to her?!" I fiercely wiped the tears from my face and stepped forward, completely losing control. "Do you have to watch me go completely insane, or die right in front of you, before you'll finally let me go?!"
A dead silence fell over the room.
"What if I say I am getting married today, no matter what?" I stared dead into Dad's eyes.
SMACK!
A heavy, stinging slap landed squarely across my face.
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