Chapter 4
Giselle tugged excitedly at Zinnia's dress. "That was so romantic! Just like in fairy tales!"
All eyes turned to me. I thought watching them kiss was the worst pain I'd feel tonight.
I was wrong.
Giselle turned to look at me, her brow furrowed. "Mommy, why are you here?"
I tried to walk toward her. "Hi, sweetheart..."
But she immediately stepped back, hiding behind Zinnia.
"I don't want you! You always make Daddy and Zinnia unhappy!"
I watched this scene quietly.
Every word Giselle spoke was taught by Zinnia, even the tone was identical.
But it didn't matter. This would all be over soon.
Zinnia gently stroked Giselle's head. "Giselle, you mustn't speak to Mommy like that."
"I only want Mommy Zinnia! Real mothers don't make everyone upset!"
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Countless pairs of eyes were studying me.
Dad approached with a dark expression. "Brinley, how could you upset Giselle like this?"
Mom looked embarrassed by the scene. "This is a public event, and your daughter is making such a scene..."
"Maybe it's better if you just go home," Dad said quietly. "Let everyone enjoy the party."
I lowered my head. "I know. You're right."
Mom nodded with satisfaction. "Good that you realize your mistakes. Stop making trouble and let the child live peacefully with Zinnia."
I picked up my purse and walked toward the exit. No one noticed me leaving.
Giselle's laughter echoed from the crowd, so happy.
Through the glass window, I saw Caspian holding Giselle while Zinnia smiled beside them, my parents chatting and laughing with the guests.
Such a perfect family, and I... I was like a redundant outsider.
I called an Uber back to the studio.
It was nearly eleven o'clock, and the pain in my stomach was getting worse, but I had something I needed to finish.
The dress still needed final touches.
This was the only thing I could leave for Giselle.
Every stitch was torture. The pain from terminal stomach cancer forced me to stop and rest every few minutes.
My fingers were numb, and the needle and thread felt heavy in my trembling hands.
I embroidered a blessing in the lining: [When you wear this dress at eighteen, I hope you'll understand that Mommy never stopped loving you...]
I put down the needle and thread, looking at my exhausted but clear-minded reflection in the mirror.
A real mother doesn't compete for a child's love—she clears obstacles from the child's path when it matters most.
At four in the morning, the wedding dress was finally complete. I began writing letters.
Letter to my parents: [Thank you for raising me. I know I've disappointed you... Zinnia will take better care of you than I ever could. Please forgive my inadequacy.]
Letter to eighteen-year-old Giselle: [Mommy knows you love Zinnia more. She is indeed gentler than me...]
I paused, thinking of every performance Zinnia had put on in front of me, how she had cleverly distanced Giselle and me.
I continued: [But sweetheart, Mommy hopes you'll learn to distinguish between real love and carefully packaged control. Tomorrow, you'll understand.]
I knew exactly what I was doing.
Giselle needed to learn how to recognize the hypocrisy around her. This was the most valuable survival skill I could give her.
After much hesitation, I finally opened the safe.
Inside were several letters I had written over the past months—detailed observations I had carefully documented. I placed them in a sealed envelope.
I picked up my phone and called Quentin.
"I need you to come to my studio tomorrow morning at 9:30 AM."
"Mrs. Wetherby? It's very late..."
"If I don't answer the door or my phone, just come in. You have the spare key."
After a long pause, he agreed. "I'll be there."
This wasn't revenge—it was a mother's final protection.
At 5:30 a.m., I picked up my phone and instinctively checked social media.
Zinnia had posted a new update. \The photo showed Caspian holding Giselle, the three of them embracing tightly, with the caption: [Grateful for the two most important people in my life.]
The comments were full of blessings: [What a beautiful family!" "Giselle has the best mother!]
I stared at the photo and whispered, "Such a perfect family..."
I saved the photo.
This was the last time I would see my daughter's smiling face.
Dawn was breaking. I felt my heartbeat slowing, my vision blurring.
I looked at the completed wedding dress, gently touching every detail.
This was my masterpiece, and my farewell.
With my last strength, I whispered: "Caspian... Giselle... Mom and Dad..."
"You all think I know nothing... but I know much more than you imagine..."
"But... I chose a smarter way..."
The last words were barely audible: "Giselle... I hope you'll understand... what real love is..."
Then, everything fell silent.
At nine o'clock in the morning, Caspian was at home having breakfast with Zinnia and Giselle.
Suddenly, his phone chimed with a call. It was his lawyer Quentin.
"Quentin?" Caspian answered, his voice tense.
A heavy voice came through the phone: "Mr. Wetherby... I'm very sorry to inform you... Brinley has passed away."
The coffee cup slipped from Caspian's hand and crashed to the floor.
