CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Five

Anderson’s heart pounded in his chest as he burst through the grand doors of St. James Church, the heavy oak slamming against the walls with a resonant thud that echoed through the sacred space. Heads turned, startled gasps rippling through the gathered crowd as he stumbled forward, breath ragged and eyes wild.

At the altar, Wanda stood in her pristine white gown, a vision of beauty and sadness all at once. Her fingers were intertwined with Michael’s, the two of them locked in an intimate gaze that made Anderson’s stomach churn. The pastor’s voice droned in the background, a solemn recitation of vows that Anderson could barely hear over the roaring in his ears.

And then it happened—the final dagger to his heart. Michael leaned in, his lips brushing against Wanda’s in a soft, deliberate kiss. Anderson felt the air rush out of his lungs as if he had been sucker-punched. Time seemed to slow, the scene playing out in painful slow motion: Wanda’s eyes fluttering shut, her breath hitching as Michael pulled her closer, the congregation erupting in a smattering of applause and approving murmurs.

“No!” Anderson’s voice cracked like a whip, raw and full of anguish. He charged down the aisle, his vision blurred with fury and unshed tears. “No! This can’t be happening!” His words tumbled out in a desperate, guttural shout, each step pounding like a hammer against his breaking heart.

Wanda’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion, and then to a flicker of something else—guilt, perhaps, or unresolved pain. Michael barely had time to react before Anderson reached the altar, his fist flying forward with the force of all his pent-up rage. The punch landed squarely on Michael’s jaw, the sickening crack echoing in the church like a gunshot.

Michael stumbled back, a look of shock and pain crossing his usually composed features. “Anderson!” Wanda screamed, her voice high and panicked as she reached out instinctively, torn between the man who had just married her and the one who had once been her whole world.

Anderson’s chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He grabbed Wanda’s arm with a desperate grip, pulling her towards him. “You can’t do this, Wanda!” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “You’re my wife! You’re—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, the words choking him as he struggled to make sense of the betrayal he felt so keenly.

Wanda tried to pull away, her eyes welling up with tears that spilled over, tracing delicate paths down her cheeks. “Anderson, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she glanced between him and Michael, her heart caught in a vise of indecision and sorrow. “It’s too late. It’s over.”

But Anderson wasn’t listening. His grip tightened, his eyes wild and desperate. “No, it’s not over! It’s never over!” His voice was a harsh whisper, filled with a rawness that spoke of sleepless nights and broken dreams. “I love you, Wanda. I’ll make it right. Just—just come with me.”

Before Wanda could respond, Michael’s security team, sharp-eyed and quick on their feet, closed in. Two men grabbed Anderson’s arms, pulling him back with a force that made him stagger. Anderson fought against them, his body thrashing as he tried to break free, but they were too strong, their expressions cold and unyielding.

“Get him out of here,” Michael ordered, his voice steady but tinged with anger as he rubbed his jaw, the skin already darkening with the beginnings of a bruise. His eyes never left Anderson, a mix of contempt and pity swirling in their depths.

The security guards dragged Anderson towards the church doors, his feet scraping against the polished floor. “Wanda!” he yelled, his voice breaking as he strained against the hands that held him. “Wanda, don’t do this! Please!” But his pleas were drowned out by the murmurs of the guests and the rustle of fabric as people shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Wanda stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She watched helplessly as Anderson was pulled away, her vision blurred by tears she didn’t bother to wipe away. Her mind was a whirl of emotions—anger, sadness, guilt—all crashing together in a chaotic storm that left her feeling hollow and unsteady. She clutched her bouquet tightly, the petals crumpling under the pressure of her trembling hands.

“And now, by the power vested in me,” the pastor continued, his voice breaking the tension as if nothing had happened, “I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Wanda turned her head slowly, her eyes locking onto Michael’s. He reached out and gently brushed her cheek, his touch warm and reassuring, though Wanda felt a chill run through her. She forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and leaned in for the obligatory kiss, her thoughts still tangled in the chaos of the last few moments.

Outside, the sun beat down harshly as Anderson was thrown onto the pavement, his knees scraping against the rough concrete. He groaned, pain shooting through his body as he struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. He looked up, his vision swimming, just in time to see Agnes pull up in her sleek black car.

Agnes stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She moved towards Anderson with a smug smile, reaching out to help him up. “Well, that was quite the show,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You really know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

Anderson shrugged off her touch, his eyes red-rimmed and defiant. But Agnes just laughed softly, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “Come on, Anderson. Let’s get you out of here,” she said, opening the car door with a flourish. “You’ve done enough for one day.”

Anderson hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking back towards the church where his world had just shattered. Then, with a resigned sigh, he slumped into the passenger seat, the door closing behind him with a final, heavy thud.

Agnes slipped into the driver’s seat, her eyes briefly flicking to Anderson as she started the car. “Don’t worry, Anderson,” she said with a sly smile, her tone laced with hidden promises. “This isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.”

The car sped off, leaving the church—and everything Anderson had lost—in the dust behind them.