On her wedding night, the bride let out a heartbreaking scream... Her mother-in-law rushed into the room and found her trembling on the floor, while her son whispered: “She had to pay...”

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

As Nathan swung the barrel of the gun toward Élise, Henri lunged forward with astonishing speed for a man his age, tackling his son sideways just as the trigger was pulled.

BANG!

The deafening roar of the gunshot shook the study walls. The bullet tore through the heavy velvet drapes over the window, shattering the glass pane and sending a shower of crystal shards across the patio outside.

“Ahhh!” Nathan roared, wrestling against his father.

Marguerite screamed, rushing toward Élise, who had collapsed onto the hallway floor in sheer terror, shielding her head with her hands.

“Get up, my dear! Run!” Marguerite cried, grabbing Élise by the arm and pulling her toward the front foyer.

Inside the study, the struggle was brutal. Henri, fueled by a father’s desperate rage to protect his family, slammed Nathan’s wrist against the edge of the mahogany desk.

Clatter!

The heavy revolver slipped from Nathan’s numb fingers, skittering across the hardwood floor and sliding under the heavy antique bookshelf.

Gérard, woken up by the gunshot, came charging down the stairs in his pajamas, his eyes wide with shock. He burst into the study just as Nathan managed to shove Henri backward, sending the older man crashing into the stack of heavy leather-bound ledgers.

“Gérard! Grab him!” Henri shouted, coughing as he tried to regain his breath.

Gérard lunged forward, wrapping his thick arms around Nathan’s chest and pinning his arms to his sides. Nathan thrashed and cursed like a wild animal, kicking out with his Italian leather shoes, but Gérard held firm, using his weight to force Nathan down onto his knees.

In the foyer, Marguerite held Élise tight against her chest, both of them trembling violently as sirens began to wail in the distance—someone from the neighborhood must have heard the gunshot over the storm.

“It’s okay... you’re safe, my sweet girl, you’re safe,” Marguerite repeated over and over, stroking Élise’s hair, her own tears soaking into the girl's ruined wedding dress.

A few minutes later, the front door was kicked open by two local county sheriff’s deputies responding to the emergency dispatch.

“Sheriff’s Department! Drop your—stay where you are!” the lead deputy shouted, sweeping his flashlight and service weapon across the hallway before lowering it as he saw Gérard holding Nathan down on the study floor, while Henri stood nearby catching his breath against the desk.

“He’s unarmed,” Henri panted, wiping blood from a small scrape on his forehead. “He tried to discharge a firearm inside a domestic residence. Arrest him.”

Nathan stopped struggling. As the deputies slapped cold steel handcuffs around his wrists and hauled him to his feet, he didn't look at his father. He didn't look at his mother.

His eyes locked entirely on Élise, who stood clinging to Marguerite near the front door.

Even with his hands cuffed behind his back, Nathan’s smile was the most chilling thing Marguerite had ever witnessed—a twisted, broken grin of a man who believed he had won, even in chains.

“You’ll never wash the blood off, Élise,” Nathan whispered as the deputies dragged him toward the open front door into the pouring rain. “Every time you look in the mirror, you’ll see her face.”