My stepmother thought she had it all figured out when she locked me inside to stop me from reaching the altar.

My stepmother thought she had everything under control when she locked me in the house to keep me from attending my father’s wedding. I’m 30, Dad is 61, and a few months ago, he announced he was marrying Dana, a fifty-something woman made mostly of Botox and bad vibes. From the start, Dana made it clear I wasn’t welcome, subtly undermining every attempt Dad and I made to reconnect.

Despite never receiving an invite, I bought a dress and drove to help. Two weeks before, Dad said Dana insisted I stay with them—it seemed off, but I agreed. That night, everything seemed normal until morning: the house was silent, my phone and keys gone, and all exits locked. Dana left a note: “Don’t take it personally. It’s just not your day.”

Using my Apple Watch, I called my friend, who rescued me. I arrived at the wedding just as Dad and Dana walked down the aisle, Post-it in hand. The chaos exposed Dana’s control, and Dad realized the truth. He annulled the wedding weeks later. I showed up, and I don’t regret it.