My mother spoke next, crying happy tears, talking about love, marriage, and partnership. I barely heard the words. Then Thomas stood, making jokes about Dylan’s bachelor days and offering marriage advice he was clearly unqualified to give. More laughter. More clinking glasses.
Finally, Caroline rose. She was elegant and composed, her champagne glass in one perfectly manicured hand. Her smile was gracious as she looked around the room. «Thank you all for being here,» she began, her voice smooth and practiced. «Today we celebrate not just a marriage but the joining of two families.»
My throat was dry. I couldn’t swallow.
«Dylan has always been my pride and joy,» Caroline continued. «My firstborn. My brilliant, handsome, successful boy.» She looked at Dylan with such genuine affection that for a moment, I wondered if I’d imagined everything. Maybe she did love him. Maybe she wanted him to be happy. But then her eyes slid to me, and I saw it again: that cold, hard glint.
«Lori,» she said, and my name sounded wrong in her mouth. «Welcome to our family. I hope you’ll be very… happy.»
The pause before «happy» was deliberate, loaded. She raised her glass. «To the bride and groom!»
«To the bride and groom!» the room echoed.
I raised my glass with trembling hands. Dylan raised his, beaming at everyone. Caroline brought the champagne to her lips and drank deeply. I watched, frozen, as she swallowed once, twice. She lowered the glass, that same satisfied smile on her face. Nothing happened. For a moment, I thought maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe it hadn’t been poison, or maybe not enough to matter, or…
Then Caroline blinked hard, like something had surprised her.
Dylan was standing now, giving his own toast—something about loving me from the moment we met, about building a life together, about forever. I couldn’t focus on his words. I was watching his mother. Caroline had set down her glass. Her hand went to her forehead, pressing lightly. She swayed slightly, catching herself on the back of her chair.
Robert, her husband, touched her elbow. «Caroline?»
«I’m fine,» she said, but her voice sounded strange, thick.
Dylan finished his toast. Everyone drank. I brought the champagne to my lips but didn’t swallow, just let it wet my mouth before setting the glass down. The DJ put on music, conversations resumed, and dinner would be served soon. I was watching Caroline like a hawk. She was still standing, but something was definitely wrong. Her eyes had a glazed quality. She was smiling, but it was too wide, too loose.
«Caroline, perhaps you should sit down,» Robert said quietly, trying to guide her to her chair.
«No,» she said loudly, shaking him off. Several people nearby turned to look. «No, I feel wonderful!»
And then she laughed. It wasn’t her normal, controlled, society-lady laugh. It was high-pitched and wild, almost manic.
Dylan frowned. «Mom?»
«Dylan!» she turned to him, stumbling slightly and grabbing the table for support. «My beautiful boy, did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?»
«You just did, Mom. In your toast.»
«Did I?» Another laugh. «Well, I am. So, so proud.»
She was getting louder. More people were staring now. Robert stood, his face reddening. «Caroline, that’s enough. Let’s get some air.»
«I don’t need air!» Caroline announced to the entire ballroom. «I need to dance!»
Before anyone could stop her, she kicked off her expensive heels and ran—actually ran—onto the dance floor. The DJ was playing a slow song. Caroline started dancing like she was at a nightclub, arms in the air, hips swaying wildly, completely out of rhythm with the music. The room went silent except for the music and Caroline’s laughter.
«Oh my God,» Dylan breathed beside me. I couldn’t move. I could only watch in horror as my mother-in-law, always so controlled, so proper, so concerned with appearances, made an absolute spectacle of herself.
«Everybody dance!» she shouted, spinning in circles, her perfectly styled hair coming loose from its pins.
Andrew appeared at our table, his young face pale. «What’s wrong with Mom?»
«I don’t know,» Dylan said, standing. «I’ll go get her.»
He started toward the dance floor, but Caroline saw him coming and ran the other way, giggling like a child. «Can’t catch me!» she sang out.
Guests were pulling out their phones now, recording. I saw flashes going off, social media posts being uploaded in real time. Dylan caught up to his mother and grasped her arm gently. «Mom, you need to sit down. You’re not feeling well.»
«I feel amazing!» she insisted, but her words were slurring now. «Better than I’ve felt in years.»
She pulled away from him and stumbled toward the dessert table where our wedding cake stood—a beautiful five-tier masterpiece covered in sugar flowers that had cost more than my car. «Mom, no!» Dylan started.
But Caroline had already reached the cake. She stood before it, swaying, her eyes wide and unfocused. «So beautiful,» she slurred. Then she reached out and grabbed a handful of cake from the bottom tier.
«Mom!» Dylan shouted.
Caroline shoved the cake into her mouth, frosting smearing across her face. Then she laughed again and grabbed more, throwing it. A chunk of cake and frosting hit a nearby guest. Someone screamed. That’s when total chaos erupted. Robert and Dylan both rushed forward, trying to pull Caroline away from the cake. She fought them, still laughing, still grabbing handfuls of the destroyed wedding cake.
Guests were standing now, some rushing forward to help, others backing away in shock. Cameras flashed continuously.
«Someone call 911!» I heard my mother shout.
The room spun around me. I gripped the edge of the table, trying to process what I was seeing. Caroline had collapsed now, sitting in a pile of ruined cake, her expensive dress covered in frosting and flowers. She was still giggling, but the sound was weaker now, her eyes rolling back in her head.
«Caroline!» Robert was on his knees beside her, his hands shaking. «What’s wrong with you? What did you take?»
«Nothing,» she mumbled, the word barely coherent. «Didn’t take anything.»
Dylan looked back at me then, his face a mask of confusion and fear. Our eyes met across the chaotic ballroom. I stood up slowly, my legs barely holding me. What had I done?
Julia appeared at my side. «Lori, what’s happening? Is she having a stroke or something?»
«I don’t know,» I whispered. But I did know. I knew exactly what was happening. Caroline was experiencing whatever she’d planned for me.
The paramedics arrived within minutes. They loaded a barely conscious Caroline onto a stretcher while the entire wedding reception watched in stunned silence. Robert climbed into the ambulance with her. Dylan stood in the middle of the destroyed reception, covered in cake frosting, looking lost.
I walked to him on shaking legs. «Dylan.»
He turned to me, his eyes wet. «I don’t understand. She barely drinks. I’ve never seen her like that.»
«We should go to the hospital,» I said quietly.
He nodded, numb. The reception was over. Guests were leaving, whispering to each other, phones still out, probably posting about the most dramatic wedding reception of the century. My perfect day had turned into a nightmare. But it wasn’t my nightmare. It was Caroline’s. And somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice whispered, She deserved it. She did this to herself. But as I watched my new husband break down in tears, I wondered if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
The hospital waiting room smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee. I sat beside Dylan, still in my wedding dress, the delicate lace now feeling like a costume from another life. My mother sat on my other side, holding my hand. My father paced nearby. Julia had gone home to get me a change of clothes.
Dylan hadn’t spoken in over an hour. He just sat there, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, still wearing his tuxedo with cake frosting dried on the sleeve. Andrew sat across from us, his young face drawn and worried. Robert had disappeared into Caroline’s examination room and hadn’t returned. I kept playing it over and over in my mind: Caroline’s hand hovering over my glass, the white pill dropping, my decision to switch the glasses.
I should tell someone. I should tell Dylan. But every time I opened my mouth, fear choked the words back down. What if he didn’t believe me? What if he thought I was lying, trying to blame his mother for my own mistake? What if this destroyed our marriage before it even really began?
«Family of Caroline Ashford?»
We all jumped up as a doctor in a white coat approached, a clipboard in his hand.
«How is she?» Robert appeared from somewhere, his face haggard.
The doctor looked around at all of us, his expression serious. «She’s stable now, but I need to ask you some questions. Did your wife take any medications today? Anything unusual?»
Robert shook his head. «No. Nothing. She doesn’t take anything except vitamins.»
«Does she drink alcohol regularly?»
«Rarely. A glass of wine at dinner sometimes.»
The doctor made a note. «We ran a toxicology screen. Mrs. Ashford has a significant amount of diazepam in her system. Does she have a prescription for that?»
«Diazepam?» Robert looked confused. «No. What is that?»
«It’s a benzodiazepine. A sedative. Goes by the brand name Valium, among others. She has enough in her system to suggest she took at least ten milligrams, possibly more.»
«That’s impossible,» Robert said firmly. «Caroline doesn’t take anything like that. There must be a mistake.»
«There’s no mistake, sir. The test is very clear.»
Dylan finally spoke, his voice hoarse. «Could someone have given it to her? Maybe slipped it into her drink?»
My heart stopped. The doctor frowned. «That’s certainly possible, though I can’t say how likely. Do you have any reason to believe someone would do that?»
«No,» Robert said quickly. «Of course not. There must be another explanation.»
But Dylan was looking at me now, really looking at me. «Lori,» he said slowly. «You were at the head table. Did you see anyone near Mom’s glass?»
The waiting room went silent. Everyone was staring at me. My mouth went dry. This was it. The moment where I either told the truth or lived with the lie forever.
«Actually,» I heard myself say, «I saw Caroline near my glass.»
The words hung in the air like a bomb.
«What?» Dylan stood up. «What are you talking about?»
My hands were shaking so hard I had to clasp them together. «Before the toasts. I saw her standing at the head table. She was hovering over the champagne glasses.»
Robert’s face turned red. «What are you suggesting?»
«I’m not suggesting anything. I’m telling you what I saw.»
«You’re saying Caroline drugged herself?» Robert’s voice was rising. «That’s absurd!»
«No,» I forced myself to meet Dylan’s eyes. «I’m saying she put something in my glass. And then I switched them.»
The silence that followed was deafening. Dylan stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
«You switched them?»
«I saw her put something in my champagne. A white pill. She dropped it in and walked away. I didn’t know what it was or what it would do, but I knew it wasn’t meant to help me. So I switched our glasses. She drank from mine. I drank from hers.»
«That’s ridiculous!» Robert shouted. «Caroline would never—»
«She would,» I said, my voice stronger now. «She’s hated me from the beginning. She never wanted Dylan to marry me. This was her way of stopping it.»
«By drugging you at your own wedding?» Andrew spoke up for the first time, his voice shaking. «That’s insane.»
«Is it?» I looked around at all of them. «Think about it. What was supposed to happen to me if I’d drunk that champagne? I would have acted exactly like she did: making a fool of myself, ruining the reception, embarrassing Dylan. Maybe he would have been so horrified he’d have the marriage annulled. Or at the very least, I’d be humiliated, and she’d have destroyed the wedding she never wanted to happen in the first place.»
