Chapter 1: A Chilling Welcome

This Christmas, I showed up at my girlfriend’s house, loaded down with gifts, my heart pounding with the hope that we’d finally make our engagement official.

The December air stung my face as I stepped from the car, my breath clouding in the cold. The drive had been long and lonely, six hours of winding country roads and static on the radio, but I’d spent every mile rehearsing what I’d say when I asked Savannah’s family for her hand. My nerves buzzed with a blend of excitement and dread, my palms clammy even inside my gloves.

By Thanksgiving, both families had almost wrapped up the arrangements. I’d already delivered the $40,000 dowry months ago—a cashier’s check that felt like both a promise and a relief when I handed it over. My parents were so happy, they’d started calling Savannah “our daughter” around the house. I thought the hard part was over. Who knew that $40,000 was just the opening bid?

The last stretch of the drive was all potholes and frostbitten fields, the kind of landscape that makes you feel far from home. When I finally arrived, the front door opened to a packed house—every eye in the living room turned to me at once, sizing me up.

Inside, the place smelled like bacon frying and pine-scented candles, with Christmas lights blinking in the window. Savannah quickly introduced her aunts, uncles, and cousins, their names tumbling over each other. I smiled and nodded, trying to remember everyone.

But their eyes kept drifting to the gifts in my arms. Someone cracked a joke in a thick Southern drawl, and the whole room burst into laughter. I caught only bits and pieces, but the meaning was clear enough. My hands felt slick with sweat. I looked at Savannah for backup, but her cheeks were flushed, and she stared at the floor, avoiding my gaze.

Were my gifts really that disappointing?

I’d brought two bottles of top-shelf bourbon, two cartons of Marlboros, two boxes of fancy coffee beans, and a pair of Nike Airs for her little brother. The haul was worth over $1,500—not exactly pocket change. Was that not enough?

I searched Savannah’s face, desperate for a reassuring smile, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. She just kept her distance, her silence heavy in the noisy room.

That’s when her father made his entrance.

He was a big man, barrel-chested with a face that looked carved from stone. I stood up quickly, nerves jangling. “Hello, Mr. Whitaker,” I said, my voice a little too formal.

He grunted, barely glancing at me, and eyed the gifts. I offered them, but he waved me off, pointing to the corner. I set everything down, feeling like a delivery guy instead of a future son-in-law.

So it was about the gifts after all. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.

A relative piped up, "Young man, Savannah says you make good money. Why just bring this? When my son-in-law came, he brought a gold bracelet—or I wouldn’t have let him in the door."

The words stung. I forced a smile, trying to keep my cool. I’d noticed the small town was ringed by empty fields, but I hadn’t expected the competition to be this intense.

I managed, “We’ve already picked out the wedding bands—they’ll be given at the ceremony.”

“How much did you give for the dowry?”

“Forty—”

Before I could finish, Savannah’s father cut me off, pointing at the sofa. “Go sit over there.”