Chapter 9 - The Wedding in Light
One year after the night my father smashed a brick into my face, the sun shone bright and warm over the rolling green hills of a private estate just outside Columbus.
The sky was a clear, vivid blue—the exact same shade as the dress I had worn on that terrible evening, but today, that color represented new beginnings.
White floral arches lined the outdoor aisle, filled with white roses, peonies, and eucalyptus. Over two hundred guests sat in the gilded chairs—friends, colleagues, community members, the utility worker who had saved my life that night, Chief Donald Briggs, Dr. Alison Curtis, and Eleanor Vance.
Inside the bridal suite, I stood before the full-length mirror.
My wedding dress was a masterpiece of simple, elegant satin, with a sweeping train and a delicate lace back that caught the light. My dark hair was styled in an elegant updo, framing my face.
And along my left eyebrow, the thin silver scar shone softly in the light.
My makeup artist had offered to cover it with heavy concealer, but I had refused. That scar was not a mark of shame. It was my badge of courage—a reminder that no matter how hard they tried to shatter me, I had broken through their darkness.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Uncle Arthur stepped inside, wearing a dapper dark grey tuxedo with a white rose boutonniere. He walked steadily without a cane now, his blue eyes beaming with pride.
"You are the most breathtaking bride I have ever seen, Sadie," Arthur said, his voice thick with tears.
"Thank you, Uncle Arthur," I said, walking over to wrap my arms around his neck gently. "Thank you for walking me down the aisle."
"It is the greatest honor of my life, my dear girl," Arthur said, offering me his arm. "Are you ready?"
"I’ve been ready my whole life," I smiled.
The double doors of the estate ballroom opened, and the string quartet began to play the opening notes of Canon in D.
As Uncle Arthur and I walked out onto the stone terrace, the entire crowd stood up, applauding softly.
At the end of the aisle stood Wyatt.
He looked handsome beyond words in a black velvet tuxedo. When his eyes met mine, tears immediately welled up in his eyes. He didn't see a victim. He didn't see a woman with a damaged face. He saw his bride, his partner, his equal, and the love of his life.
Uncle Arthur placed my hand into Wyatt’s firm, warm grip.
"Take care of her, son," Arthur said gently.
"With my life, sir," Wyatt promised.
The ceremony was short, beautiful, and filled with deep truth.
"Do you, Wyatt Campbell, take Eleanor Sadie Davis to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"
"I do," Wyatt said, his voice ringing loud and clear through the open air.
"And do you, Eleanor Sadie Davis, take Wyatt Campbell to be your wedded husband?"
I looked into Wyatt’s eyes—the eyes that had stayed beside my hospital bed through every tear, every surgery, and every legal battle.
"I do," I said firmly.
May you like
"By the power vested in me by the State of Ohio, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!"
Wyatt pulled me into his arms, dipping me slightly as he pressed his lips to mine. The entire crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, throwing white rose petals into the air as the sun broke through the clouds, bathing us in warm, golden light.
