Chapter 2 - THE WALK DOWN THE AISLE
The St. Regis grand ballroom was a glittering spectacle of white roses, crystal chandeliers, and weeping gold candelabras. Over three hundred guests—comprising the city’s elite, high-society columnists, tech investors, and prominent business partners—chattered softly as a string quartet played a classical rendition of a modern love song.
At the front of the altar stood Connor Sterling, looking impeccably tailored in a custom midnight-blue tuxedo, his chest puffed out with the unearned pride of a man who thought he had conquered the world. Beside him, Betsy beamed like a queen mother, adorned in emeralds and gripping a velvet-lined program as if it were a royal decree.
And then, the heavy oak doors swung open.
Alyssa walked down the aisle in a custom mermaid-cut silk gown designed to accentuate her twelve-week baby bump, though anyone with eyes and a basic understanding of human anatomy could tell the slight curve was aided by clever tailoring and a supportive corset. She wore a smug, triumphant smile, locking eyes with Connor as she approached the altar.
Parker and I slipped into the back of the room just as the processional ended, but within seconds, a ripple of whispers rolled through the crowd. Heads turned. Whispers escalated into a low, collective murmur.
It wasn't because of Alyssa’s dress, and it wasn't because of the flowers.
It was because I was walking down the central aisle.
I wasn't wearing black or hiding in the shadows. I wore a crimson tailored silk suit that commanded the room, my posture straight, carrying Brinley in a sleek designer baby carrier strapped securely against my chest. My expression was serene, radiant, and entirely untouchable.
Connor’s smile faltered the moment he saw me. The color instantly drained from his face, leaving him looking like a ghost in a tuxedo. Betsy gasped, her hand flying to her chest, while Alyssa froze mid-step, her eyes widening in sheer panic as she realized the uninvited guest of honor had arrived.
“Elena?” Connor choked out, his voice cracking slightly over the microphone clipped to his lapel. “What... what are you doing here?”
I stopped ten feet short of the altar, the entire room holding its collective breath. The string quartet ground to an awkward, stuttering halt.
“Did you really think you could celebrate a new beginning without thanking the person who funded your entire existence, Connor?” I asked, my voice carrying effortlessly across the silent ballroom.
“Security!” Betsy shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Throw this ungrateful, bitter woman and that bastard child out of here right now! This is a sacred ceremony!”
“Sacred?” I laughed softly, a cold, crystalline sound that sent a shiver through the room. “Betsy, nothing about this circus is sacred. And before you start screaming about bastards, you might want to ask your precious son whose blood is actually running through the veins of the child Alyssa is carrying.”
May you like
Connor staggered backward, nearly tripping over the altar steps. “Shut up,” he hissed, sweat instantly beading on his forehead. “Elena, don’t make a scene. Get out!”
“Oh, I’m not making a scene, Connor,” I smiled, lifting a heavy, cream-colored envelope sealed with a gold wax stamp. “I’m just delivering a wedding present.”
