Chapter 3: The Silent Call
The screen of Mary's phone illuminated her face in the dim room, casting sharp shadows across her unsmiling lips. Without breaking eye contact with the man who had promised her forever just yesterday, she swiped the screen and brought the device to her ear. Her fiancé watched in mute horror, realizing too late that his frantic explanations had fallen on deaf ears. He reached out a hand, intending to stop her, but pulled back as her cold stare pierced right through him. There was no negotiating with what was happening now; the gears of a much larger, colder machine had just been set into motion.
"Mrs. Ben, could you come to room 237?" Mary spoke into the phone, her voice steady, melodic, and chillingly polite. The words carried across the silent suite like a death knell. On the other end of the line, Mrs. Ben—the meticulous, sharp-tongued wedding coordinator—barely had time to acknowledge the request before Mary lowered the phone and terminated the call. The groom's face twisted into an expression of utter disbelief and panic. Room 237 was just down the hall, and summoning the coordinator meant bringing the catastrophic reality out into the open for everyone to see.
"Mary, don't do this. We can talk about this, cancel the guests, handle it quietly," the groom babbled, his voice rising in pitch as desperation took complete control of his faculties. The woman on the bed let out a muffled sob, burying her face further into the duvet. But Mary didn't blink. The silence that followed her phone call was absolute, pregnant with the impending arrival of the wedding staff and the total annihilation of their social standing. The pristine white dress she wore was no longer a symbol of hope, but the uniform of an avenging angel ready to exact a heavy toll.
