The electric clippers buzzed like a furious hornet inside the sunlit bridal suite in Dallas, Texas. White rose petals littered the marble floor, but nobody was looking at the flowers. All eyes were locked on Clara, who stood in her ice-white lace gown, holding heavy metallic shears in one hand and electric clippers in the other.

Clara: Hold her still, Brenda! She is ruining the entire aesthetic of my wedding party!

Brenda: Clara, please, she’s just a child! She's terrified!

Little Lily screamed, her tiny seven-year-old hands clutching the arms of the velvet armchair as Brenda held her down. Clumps of soft brown hair fell onto the pristine rug.

Lily: NO! STOP! DADDY! HELP ME!

Clara: Shut up, you little brat! Don’t worry, I trim my dog’s fur regularly! You'll look much cleaner for the photos now!

Clara laughed, a sharp, cold sound that echoed off the white walls. Half of Lily’s head was completely bare, red lines showing on her sensitive skin where the blades pressed too hard. Tears streamed down the child’s red, swollen face as she sobbed hysterically.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. The mahogany door slammed open, revealing Mark, his silk tie half-tied and his face pale. He froze, his eyes wide as he took in the scene of hair on the floor and his screaming daughter.

Lily: DADDY! DADDY! SHE HURT ME!

Mark: What in God’s name are you doing?!

Clara: Mark, sweetie, calm down! She had lice or split ends, I was just fixing her up so our wedding album looks perfect!

Mark stepped into the room, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned bone white. He stared at Clara, the woman he was supposed to marry in less than thirty minutes, and felt a cold, blinding rage take over.

Mark: Touch my daughter again and this wedding is over!

He shoved a heavy vanity stool out of his way, sending bottles of expensive perfume and makeup jars crashing onto the floor. Clara gasped, dropping the clippers onto the rug.

Mark: Give me your hand.

Clara: Mark, you’re making a huge scene over nothing!

Mark grabbed her left wrist, yanked off the five-carat diamond engagement ring from her finger, and slammed it onto the table right next to the clippers and the piles of his daughter's brown hair.

Mark: Wedding? What wedding?! Get out of my sight before I call the police!

Clara stood frozen in horror, her mouth agape, as Mark scooped up his weeping child into his arms. But what Clara didn't know was that this was only the first secret Mark was about to uncover today.