Chapter 9 - The Footsteps in the East Wing
The double doors clicked shut behind Vanessa. The room remained hushed, the guests frozen in their pews like statues in a ruined temple.
Adrian walked over to where Claire stood beneath the spotlight. He looked at the empty altar, then at the scattered orchids, and finally down at Claire. His gaze traced the rose-pink satin, the crystal petals along the bodice, and the unshakable strength in her posture.
"I'm so sorry, Claire," he choked out, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I was blind. I brought those monsters into your world."
"You didn't bring them," Claire answered gently, offering him a calm, steady hand. "They revealed themselves. But the question is... what do you want to do now?"
Adrian looked around at the stunned crowd, then looked back at me, a sudden, decisive calm washing over his features—the calm of a man who had finally burned down his father's house to see what sunlight looked like underneath.
"I came here today to marry the strongest, most brilliant woman I've ever known," he said, loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear. "Not a family name. Not a curated photograph. Just you."
May you like
I smiled, feeling the warmth of the spotlight on my bare shoulders.
I signaled the maestro with a small nod. The orchestra resumed, sweeping into a vibrant, triumphant waltz instead of the stiff traditional march. Hand in hand, we walked toward the altar on our own terms, leaving the stolen silk and the shattered lies behind us on the marble floor.
