My Ex-Husband Inviting Me to His Cult Wedding to Humiliate Me Didn't Expect My Five-Year-Old Triplets to Walk Down the Aisle
The moment I returned to the sanctuary, the heavy iron doors were already closed. Not just the side door to the guest suites, but the main entrance as well. Compound guards, their faces grim and unyielding, stood sentry at every exit. The atmosphere had shifted from chaotic celebration to suffocating tension.
Gideon strode down the aisle, his voice ringing with false authority. “A holy quarantine has been declared! The Assembly is under a spiritual lockdown until these… external influences are purged!”
The congregation murmured, some looking scared, others nodding in fervent agreement. Martha stood near the altar, her face pale, avoiding my gaze. The realization of her unwitting role had clearly begun to sink in.
I pushed my way through a cluster of confused guests, my heart pounding against my ribs. I had to reach my sons.
“Gideon!” I shouted, my voice raw. “Where are my children? Let them go!”
He turned, a predatory glint in his icy blue eyes. “Your children, Hannah, are exactly where they belong. Under the protection of the Assembly. Away from your harmful influence.”
A guard stepped forward, blocking my path. His hand rested on a heavy-duty taser clipped to his belt.
“I need to see them,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice steady. “They’re just boys. They’re scared.”
Gideon chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. “Scared of what, Hannah? Of divine order? Of grace?”
He walked toward me, slowly, deliberately. The guards parted for him. He smelled of expensive cologne and fear.
“You speak of rights, Hannah. Of covenants. Of claims.” He reached into the inner pocket of his wedding suit, pulling out a folded document. “Let’s formalize this, shall we?”
He unfolded the papers with a flourish. They were legal documents, clearly drawn up in haste. The heading read: “Custody and Land Forfeiture Agreement.”
“Sign this,” he commanded, holding out a pen. “A waiver, Hannah. Surrendering all custody of the children to the Assembly, and all your baseless claims to this land, to any portion of the Assembly’s holdings.”
My blood ran cold. He wanted to strip me of everything, again. Not just my sons, but any future financial stability I might have fought for.
“Never,” I spat, refusing to even touch the pen. “I won’t abandon them.”
“Then you remain here,” Gideon stated, his eyes hard as flint. “You, and your journalist friend outside. You are all guests of the Assembly now. Under holy quarantine.”
He gestured to the guards. Two of them moved toward me, flanking me, not touching but making their presence undeniably clear.
“The doors are locked, Hannah. The perimeter secured. No one enters, no one leaves until this… external contamination is resolved.”
He smiled, a grim, satisfied curl of his lips. “You wanted to make a spectacle, Hannah? Congratulations. You have your stage.”
I looked around the sanctuary. The grand wooden doors, now bolted from the outside. The stained-glass windows, too high to reach, too thick to break. My children were locked inside, just beyond those walls.
My heart pounded, a trapped bird against my ribs. I was a hostage. My children were hostages. And Gideon, my ex-husband, held the key.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours