The Scapegoat Bride's Last Breath

During the walk to the altar, Lambert Sanchez shoved a memorial portrait of my sister into my arms.

"If you hadn't drugged him and crawled into his bed, Melinda would never have vanished, never have ended up somewhere between living and dead!"

The blow knocked me back a few steps, and the uremia medication had my hands shaking, so the photo slid right out of my fingers.

A year ago my sister, Melinda Dickerson, fell for someone else and came to me in tears, begging me to talk Lambert into letting her go.

Meaning well, I handed Lambert the drink Melinda had given me.