Together, the three of them headed for the edge of the tent, moving with purpose. Preston took a step as if to follow, his face darkening further with anger barely contained. But Aubrey rushed up to him right on cue, talking quickly and pointing toward his parents’ table, her small hands fluttering expressively, her voice rising just enough to be distracting.
Something about a family friend wanting to speak with him, some important connection he couldn’t ignore. Preston turned in annoyance, torn between following Simone and dealing with whatever Aubrey was saying. In that moment of hesitation, Simone and her friends disappeared behind one of the white tent columns, slipping out into the evening air.
Doris exhaled for what felt like the first time in minutes, her chest loosening slightly. Phase one had worked. The hardest part was still ahead, but they’d gotten Simone away from Preston’s immediate control.
That was something. She moved quickly, skirting the tables, nodding distractedly at anyone who tried to speak to her, mumbling apologies and excuses. She slipped out of the tent into the cooler evening air, the temperature dropping as the sun sank lower.
The Texas sky was turning shades of orange and purple, beautiful and indifferent to the human drama unfolding below. It didn’t take long to find them. At the far end of the manicured garden, near a small stone fountain lit by soft landscape lights that cast dancing shadows on the water, Simone sat on the low stone rim, her white dress spilling around her like a puddle of milk.
Kendra, Sierra, and Aubrey stood close by, their faces worried, talking in hushed, urgent tones. “Simone, what’s going on?” Kendra was asking, her voice tight with concern and fear. “Your mom said you were in danger.
Is that true? Please, talk to us.”
Simone didn’t answer immediately. She sat hugging herself despite the warm evening, her shoulders rigid, her whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
In the soft lantern light, Doris saw that her daughter’s makeup was smudged, mascara tracking down her cheeks in dark lines, the carefully applied foundation cracking. “Simone,” Doris said softly, stepping closer, her heart breaking at the sight. She crouched down in front of her daughter with effort, her knees protesting, and gently took Simone’s cold hands in hers.
They were ice-cold despite the warm Texas evening, trembling violently. “I got your note,” Doris said quietly, squeezing her hands. “I understand.
I’m here. Whatever you need, whatever is happening, I’m here now.”
Simone lifted her head slowly, and when their eyes met, Doris saw her daughter’s carefully maintained composure finally shatter. Her eyes flooded with tears that had been held back all evening, probably for weeks, finally breaking free.
Her lower lip trembled uncontrollably. “Mom, I couldn’t—I didn’t know how else—” she whispered hoarsely, her voice breaking on every word. “He watches me all the time, every second.
I can’t even talk to you alone. He checks my phone, monitors my calls. I couldn’t call you, couldn’t text, couldn’t say anything.
This was the only way I could think of to get a message to you without him knowing.”
The words came in broken pieces, fragmented and desperate. Simone pressed her mother’s hands to her face and finally cried—quiet, muffled sobs, as if even now she was afraid someone might hear and drag her back to that tent, back to Preston’s side where she belonged according to the marriage license they’d signed just hours ago. “It’s okay,” Doris murmured, stroking her daughter’s hair with one hand, feeling anger ignite in her chest like a Texas brushfire, hot and consuming.
“Everything’s going to be okay. I promise you. We’re leaving now.
Right now. You’re not going back in there.”
“No.” Simone shook her head quickly, almost violently, panic flaring in her eyes. “We can’t.
You don’t understand. He won’t let me. His parents—they said if I call off the wedding, if I try to leave him, they’ll destroy you, Mom.
They said they’d get you fired from your job with one phone call, that you’d never find work in Dallas again, that they have connections everywhere. They said they have people who can make your life hell, who can ruin your credit, freeze your accounts, make sure no one in the county will hire you.”
She was speaking faster now, the words tumbling out. “They said they’d make sure everyone knows you’re a troublemaker, unreliable, that they’d spread rumors about you being unstable or stealing or anything they needed to say.
They have money, Mom. They have power. They can do things we can’t even imagine.
Preston said if I tried to run, he’d find me no matter where I went, that there’s nowhere in Texas I could hide that his family couldn’t reach.”
“Let them try,” Doris said, and there was so much steel in her voice that Simone flinched, her eyes going wide. “I’m not that easy to destroy, sweetheart. I’ve survived worse than rich people with connections.
And I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re my daughter. If I have to fight their whole family, their money, all their connections, every lawyer they can afford, I will.
I will burn every bridge and fight every battle to keep you safe.”
She stood up, pulling Simone to her feet with gentle but firm hands. “But you,” Doris said, cupping her daughter’s tear-stained face, “are going to stand up right now, and we are going to walk out of here together. You and me.
Like we’ve always done. Like we did when your father left us with nothing. We survived that, and we’ll survive this.”
“Ms.
Jones is right,” Kendra said firmly, crouching beside Simone and taking her other hand, her own voice shaking but determined. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. Not Preston, not his parents, not their whole empire.
We’re here. We’ve got you. All of us.”
“But you don’t understand,” Simone whispered, wiping her cheeks and smearing her mascara further, black streaks across her pale skin.
“He’s not who he seems. Not at all. In public, he’s perfect—charming, generous, thoughtful.
But when we’re alone, he changes completely. He says I’m his property now, that I belong to him. That I have to obey every word he says.
That if I try to leave, if I embarrass him, if I make him look bad in any way…”
She trailed off, her voice breaking. “What will he do?” Sierra asked gently, sitting down on Simone’s other side on the fountain’s rim, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Simone, please.
Tell us the truth. Did he hit you? Did he hurt you physically?”
“No,” Simone said quickly, shaking her head.
“He never hits. He’s too smart for that, too careful about leaving evidence. He grabs instead.
He squeezes so hard it hurts, leaves bruises shaped like fingers, but the marks barely show under clothes. He knows exactly where to grab so it won’t be visible. And he says it’s my fault, that I provoke him with my behavior.
That if I behaved properly, if I was a good wife, he wouldn’t have to ‘discipline’ me.”
“Oh my God,” Aubrey whispered, covering her mouth with both hands, her eyes filling with tears. “Simone, no. That’s abuse.
That’s textbook abuse.”
“How long has this been going on?” Kendra asked, her voice tight with suppressed fury. “When did it start?”
“About three months,” Simone replied, her voice hollow, speaking faster now as if afraid that if she stopped, she wouldn’t have the courage to continue. “At first he was perfect.
You all saw it—the flowers, gifts, compliments, fancy dates in Uptown Dallas, taking me to places I’d only dreamed about. He was everything I thought I wanted. Then after we announced the engagement, after he put that ring on my finger, he started changing bit by bit.”
She spoke quickly, the words she’d been holding inside for months finally spilling out.
“It began with little things I didn’t recognize as warning signs. He’d say that lipstick didn’t suit me, that my dress was too short and made me look cheap, that my friends were a bad influence and I should spend less time with them. Then he started checking my phone constantly, demanding passwords to my social media accounts, my email, everything.
He said we were family now, going to be married, so there shouldn’t be any secrets between us, that privacy was a form of lying.”
