The marble floor of the grand foyer felt cold, even through the thick soles of his leather shoes.
Mark adjusted the collar of his white tuxedo jacket and took a deep breath.
In less than twenty minutes, he was supposed to walk down the aisle and marry Victoria.
She was elegant, wealthy, and seemed to bring light back into his life after years of raising his daughter alone.
Everything was supposed to be perfect, a fresh start for his family in their new luxury suburban mansion.
Then, a soft, choked sob echoed from the side hallway near the grand staircase.
Mark paused, his heart sinking as he recognized the tiny, trembling sound instantly.
He turned the corner and saw seven-year-old Lily huddled against the white wall, her small floral dress crumpled around her.
Her shoulders shook violently as tears streamed down her blotchy, red cheeks.
In her small, shaking hands, she clutched a crumpled piece of lined notebook paper, squeezing it like a lifeline.
Mark: Sweetheart, why are you crying?
Lily: Daddy... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a noise.
Mark knelt down on the cold marble, completely unbothered by spoiling his tailored white trousers.
He gently cupped her warm, tear-stained face in his hands, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.
Mark: You don't have to apologize for crying, Lily. Tell me what happened. Did you fall?
Lily: No... it's not that.
Mark: Is it your dress? Is it too tight?
Lily: No, Daddy. She... she gave me this.
Lily wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve, her voice catching in a hysterical, ragged breath.
Lily: She said after the wedding... I can't stay here anymore.
Mark froze, the warmth in his chest instantly vanishing into a sharp, icy chill.
Lily: She said after the wedding, I can't stay here anymore.
Mark stared at the yellow crumpled note in his daughter's hand, his blood suddenly running cold as the sound of distant wedding music played softly in the background.