The Ninth Bride

Eight years, the whispers in Havenwood never stopped.

They called it the "Thorne Curse"-eight women, all Julian Thorne's fiancées, all dead the night before their wedding.

My sister, Emily, was the first, ruled a suicide, but I knew that was a lie.

Today, I announced I'd be the ninth.

My father, Dr. Miller, looked at me, his face like stone, his words cold and sharp: "You are no daughter of mine."

He even offered my mother's inheritance, a severance from my own family, as the town stared, calling me crazy, just like my dead sister.

Walking into Thorne Manor, its black iron gates twisted like angry branches, I met Eleanor Thorne, whose smile didn't reach her eyes, and heard the staff whisper about Emily' s screams.

Julian Thorne, pale as death, just said, "I pray you'll be the one to break this curse."

His rehearsed words, my father's chilling abandonment, and the town's judgment only fueled my resolve.

How could my father accept Emily's "suicide" so easily?

Why did this town cling to such a convenient lie?

I had to know what really happened to Emily.

I had to finally expose the truth behind the Thorne Curse, even if it meant becoming its final victim.

The whispers in Havenwood never really stopped, not for eight long years.

They called it the "Thorne Curse."

Julian Thorne was the "Groom of Death."

Eight women, all engaged to him, all dead.

Each one on the night before her wedding.

Found the same way, brutal, like some sick ritual.

They said their hearts were cut out.

My sister, Emily, was the first. Eight years ago.

The police said she went crazy, killed herself. I never believed it.

Today, I told Havenwood I was going to marry Julian Thorne.

I would be the ninth.

I had to know what happened to Emily.

My father, Dr. Miller, the town doctor, looked at me.

His face was like stone.

He didn't yell, not at first.

Then the words came out, cold and sharp.

"You are no daughter of mine."

It was the same coldness he showed when Emily died.

No tears, no comfort. Just... nothing.

Emily was found in her wedding dress, torn.

The report said she clawed at her own chest, that her heart was... gone.

I remembered her laughing, full of life, excited to marry Julian.

It didn't make sense.

The anger for Emily, for the truth, burned in me.

Father just said, "The coroner was clear. Suicide."

He turned away. That was it.

Father' s face was a blank wall, but his eyes, for a second, showed something. Pain?

Then it was gone.

He' d always been a good father, before Emily.

He worked so hard for us, Mom too, before she passed.

He loved us. I knew he did.

This cold man wasn't the father I remembered.

He reached into his coat, pulled out a thick envelope.

"Your mother's inheritance," he said, his voice flat.

"If you go to that house, you're dead to me."

He didn't look at me when he said it.

I took the money. My hands were shaking.

"I have to, Dad," I whispered.

He didn't answer.

The walk through town to the Thorne stagecoach stop was long.

People stared.

"Crazy, just like her sister," Mrs. Henderson muttered from her porch.

"Greedy girl, after the Thorne money," Mr. Gable spat near my feet.

I kept walking.

For years, I' d gone over Emily' s things, the few the police returned.

The official story was a lie. Emily wasn't insane.

Someone did that to her.

The Thornes. It had to be.

And my father... why did he accept it so easily?

I had to find out. For Emily. For myself.