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“If you have doubts, my child, they are perfectly normal.”
Jordin shook her head, her tears falling freely. “No, father. You don’t understand.”
I turn my face to Caleb, silently asking what the fuck is going on, but he’s transfixed on Jordin.
“Jordin. Look at me. Don’t do this. Not now,” Caleb pleads, but she ignores him, her gaze swinging to the statue of Jesus nailed to the cross. “Please forgive me for lying.”
The priest leans into her, whispering, “If this is about your purity, child, I can assure you God will forgive you.”
“This isn’t about my purity, Father. I cannot marry this man.”
Confusion furrows the priest’s brows. “Why not?”
“Because I’m already married.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Browsfurrowed,Iblinkrapidly, feeling my heart throb in my chest as each beat pounds through the storm brewing around the church after Jordin’s shocking revelation.
Jordin and Caleb got married! When? How?
Ian’s face transforms from surprise to a furious rage, his eyes cold and deadly, narrowing into dangerous slits.
“Married?” he bellows, leaning heavily on his cane when he stands. “What do you mean you’re married?”
The room feels charged with tension, a coiled spring waiting to snap.
Jordin, unyielding, meets his gaze with defiance, her fingers reaching for the veil, pulling it free from her hair.
“You heard me. I said I’m already married, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”
“Saint, we need to get her out of here now!” Caleb’s urgent shout breaks through the impending chaos that ensues as men ready their weapons, but I stand frozen in shock, staring at his best friend. “You’re married?”
Saint’s gaze flits between them both. “When the fuck did you get married?”
“Not the time, man,” Caleb replies, slowly reaching around the back of his suit pants, his eyes darting around the room, assessing the escalating situation.
Jordin lifts her chin, her determination unwavering. “It’s true. Caleb and I married in secret a week ago. I’m done with this charade. I’m done pretending. This ends today!”
Ian, seething with rage, draws his gun from the waistband of his slacks, pointing it straight at Jordin, who jumps back in panic.
Screeches and screams fill the room as guests, including my mom and Mrs. Watson, scatter to the door to safety, and armed men position themselves for a confrontation.
“You’re a filthy whore, just like your mother. You should have been ripped from her stomach the minute she found out she was carrying you,” Ian spits venomously at Jordin.
“Go ahead. Spew your disgusting words. Because that’s all they are—meaningless and disgusting words from a bitter old man. It’s no wonder my mother hated you. No wonder she ran away,” Jordin shoots back, her voice cracking.
“She ran because she was carrying you. An abomination. Your cunt of a mother paid for her sins along with your bastard father. The same way you will.”
Caleb raises his gun in the air, pointing it at Ian. “Careful how you speak to my wife. Or your next words will be your last, Maloti.”
“Maloti,” he scoffs at Caleb’s disgust for the name. “Apparently, you’re married to one, boy.”
“My wife’s name is Jordin Bailey.”
“EVERYONE STOP!” Lucas snaps.
“I need to get my head around this. What are you saying, granddad? What did you do to Jordin’s parents?” Lucas asks Ian, but Ian turns swiftly and swings out his cane, hitting Lucas in the face and knocking him to the ground with a thud. Lucas lies sprawled on the cold, hard floor, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth. Logan rushes over to help him, and his eyes meet Jordin’s briefly, something passing between them before he struggles to rise.
