With two weddings coming up, our home should’ve been buzzing with excitement. My biological daughter, Hannah (22), and my stepdaughter, Christine (23), were both engaged and living under one roof. But joy quickly gave way to tension. Christine often snapped during dinner and rolled her eyes whenever Hannah gushed about wedding plans.
Still, Hannah remained sweet and hopeful. When she found her dream dress and booked her dream venue, we all expected celebration — except Christine, who barely reacted. I brushed it off as jealousy or nerves. But just days before Hannah’s big day, the unthinkable happened.
One evening, after a strained dinner, Christine claimed she was meeting her fiancé outside — but her coat still hung by the door. Something felt off. I followed her and found her in Hannah’s room, crying over the shredded remains of Hannah’s wedding gown. “I swear I didn’t do this,” she whispered, shaking.
I was about to question her… until she told me something that made my stomach turn.