Chapter 4 The day hope died

Maria's POV

The strong odor of blood hung in the air, heavy and overwhelming.

I remained frozen, my heart racing within my chest as the men who had invaded the wedding walked toward the entrance. Their black suits fading into the dark hall, their arrogance spreading to every corner of the hall like poison.

The leader, the one who had spoken before pulling the trigger, adjusted his suit as if he had just handled nothing more than business.

With a casual glance back at the wreckage he had left behind, he smirked and exited.

I shouted, anger evident in my eyes. My hands curled up as I shifted my gaze to my sister.

Wanda knelt on the floor, her sparkling white dress soaked in blood, her hands holding Carlos' corpse. Her cries echoed through the empty hall.

Because now, it was empty.

The guests had fled in terror, their fancy shoes clattering against the floors as they shoved past one another to escape. Even the priest had abandoned his post, his Bible forgotten near the altar.

The only ones left were Wanda, myself, and our father.

I slightly turned my head, my stomach twisting at the sight of him standing over Carlos' body. His shoulders hung low, and his eyes were blurred as he gazed at the man meant to be his son-in-law.

He was lost in thought.

Just like last time.

The last time Wanda lost her husband.

The last time she collapsed in a puddle of grief, sobbing into the void, begging for fate to be kinder to her.

That time, it had been an illness. This time, it was a bullet.

My heart ached, but anger burned its way through the sorrow.

This wasn't fate. This wasn't a disease no one could fight. This was murder and murderers could be punished.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I turned on my heel and ran.

I pushed through the heavy doors of the hall and went outside the building, my pulse racing as I scanned the area.

There...The men in dark suits were getting into a black car parked just outside the venue. I barely caught sight of the man's face who was seated at the front of the car before the door slammed shut.

My feet moved before I could think.

I sprinted forward, my breath ragged, but the car's engine roared to life. Tires shrieked against the pavement, and in moments, they vanished, fading into the distance.

I muttered a curse quietly, irritation twisting in my stomach.

They got away.

I stood there for a moment, fists clenched, the echoes of the wedding hall's earlier joy now nothing more than ghosts in the wind.

Then, with reluctant steps, I turned and went back inside.

Wanda hadn't moved.

She was still on the ground, still clutching Carlos as though if she just held on tightly enough, she could pull him back from the void.

Her sobs were quieter now, more broken, less like cries, and more like the sound of a woman unraveling.

I approached cautiously, placing a trembling hand on her shoulder. "Wanda..."

She didn't react.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to our father. "Dad," I said, but he also didn't respond.

He just stood there, as stiff as a statue, lost in the same haunted silence that had consumed him when Wanda's first husband died.

"Dad," I said again, this time firmer, as I reached out and grabbed his arm.

He flinched.

Then, with a slow exhale, his eyes met mine, and I saw it-saw the weight of years pressing down on him, saw the way grief had carved its home into his very soul.

But he nodded and together, we helped Wanda to her feet.

She didn't resist. She didn't speak.

She just let herself be led away, her veil slipping from her hair and falling to the ground like the ghost of the life she had almost had.

One week later, we buried Carlos Mendes.

Friends and family gathered, dressed in black, their whispers a steady hum in the background.

Wanda stood by the grave, her eyes empty, her body shaking as the priest spoke his final words.

This was the second time she had stood like this. The second time she had watched a coffin be lowered into the earth.

The second time she became a widow.

I wanted to comfort her, but what could I say? That things would be okay? That time would heal? That she would move on?

No.

Not this time.

Ever since that day, our father hadn't been the same.

He had always been a man of quiet strength, of resilience, but something in him had broken. He barely ate. He barely spoke. He just sat in his chair, staring at nothing, drowning in thoughts none of us could reach.

And Wanda...She moved like a ghost.

My world, the one I had fought to protect, was crumbling. So I did the only thing I could.

I tried to survive.

The next morning, I decided to return to work. I needed to do something. Something to hold onto, something to remind me that not everything had shattered.

But when I arrived at my workplace, I stopped short.

A new girl was standing where I usually stood, adjusting her uniform and chatting with the other workers.

My stomach twisted.

I pushed past the confusion and went inside. My madam was behind her desk, sipping tea when I entered.

She barely spared me a glance.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," she said casually, setting her cup down.

"I-" I swallowed hard. "I was gone for a few days, but I'm here now. I can start immediately."

She didn't respond right away.

Instead, she folded her hands over her lap, studying me like I was a puzzle she had already solved.

Then, with a sigh, she said, "Maria, you stopped coming to work. You disappeared without a word."

"I had an emergency," I said quickly. "Please, just-just let me-"

"I replaced you."

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

I blinked. "W-What?"

She leaned back in her chair. "You were unreliable. I need people I can count on."

Panic rose in my throat.

"No-no, please. I need this job. I'll do extra hours. I won't miss a day, I swear-"

I dropped to my knees.

I begged.

Hands clasped, voice cracking, I pleaded with her to let me stay, to not take this away from me.

But she didn't even look at me.

Instead, she called for security.

Two guards entered and without a word, they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me outside.

The estate gate slammed shut behind me.

Then a raindrop hit my cheek, then another and another. In just moments, the sky erupted, releasing thick, heavy sheets of rain.

I sat on the floor, my gown drenched, my fingers clutching the cold concrete.

I had nothing.

No husband like Wanda once had.

No job.

No way to support my family.

Nothing.

I raised my head, the rain mixing with the tears slipping down my cheeks.

The world was cruel and I was drowning in it.