Damian POV:
"The groom is busy enjoying one last fling with my stepsister."
Jovita Sullivan's words still echoed in the cavernous, now-empty hall. The guests had fled, but I could still feel the sting of their scandalized stares. Before anyone had recovered enough to stop her, Jovita had gathered the hem of her wedding dress, pushed through the crowd, and hurried out of the Harrison estate without looking back. No one had managed to follow her.
I stood in the wreckage of what was supposed to be my wedding reception.
Katlin was trembling beside me, her sobs muffled against my chest. I held her tight, my own heart a chaotic drum against my ribs. I loved her. I just never imagined it would all come out like this.
My father, Boris Harrison, strode toward me, his face a thundercloud. My mother, Martha, followed, her eyes burning with a fury that was all for Jovita. In the distance, seated at the high table like statues, were my grandfather, Lord Reginald, and my grandmother, Eleanor. Their expressions were pure ice.
CRACK.
My father's hand connected with my cheek. The sound was like a whip in the silent hall.
"You fool," he hissed, his voice trembling with rage. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
My head snapped to the side, my cheek stinging. But I didn't back down. I kept my arm around Katlin and met my father's gaze. "I love Katlin. I never wanted to marry Jovita Sullivan."
"Love?" My mother let out a short, sharp laugh that held no humor. "And your love is worth making the Harrison name a laughingstock across the entire kingdom? At your own wedding, with the bride's sister?"
She advanced on Katlin, her eyes like daggers. "And you, little Miss Sullivan. Is this how you were raised? To seduce your own sister's fiancé?"
Katlin flinched as if struck. "My lady, I... I didn't mean to. Damian and I are in love."
My mother's lip curled. She was about to say something else, something cruel, and I couldn't let her. I pulled Katlin fully behind me, using the last weapon I had.
"Mother, stop! She's pregnant!"
The words exploded into the silence. The entire hall went dead still. I saw a crack finally appear in my grandmother Eleanor's placid facade.
My grandfather, Lord Reginald, finally spoke. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of absolute authority. "Damian. My study. Now." He glanced at my father. "Boris, watch them."
I followed my grandfather out of the hall, each step feeling like I was walking on broken glass. The long corridor to the main house was lined with portraits of Harrison ancestors. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me, judging me.
In his study, my grandfather stood with his back to me, staring out the window into the gathering dusk. The oppressive silence was worse than any shouting.
"Have you heard any news of Gideon?" he asked suddenly.
The question caught me off guard. Gideon was my uncle, the family war hero. "Uncle Gideon? He... he was confirmed killed in action, wasn't he?"
"Yes. He died for the honor of this family." Grandfather turned, his eyes sharp and piercing. "And you, his nephew, have just dragged that honor through the mud in the most pathetic way imaginable."
"I..." I had no response. Next to the legend of Gideon, I had always been the disappointing spare.
"That girl, Jovita Sullivan," he continued. "What do you know of her?"
"A country girl. A Dragonless commoner," I said automatically, the words Katlin and I had so often used. "Pretty, but otherwise unremarkable."
My grandfather shook his head, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "You see only what you wish to see. And now, the entire family will pay the price for your stupidity."
His punishment was swift. Confined to my rooms for a month. My allowance cut off for the next quarter. And, most humiliatingly, I was to go to the Sullivan household myself and apologize.
When I left the study, my mother was waiting in the hall. After hearing the punishment, rage contorted her features.
"That low-born bitch," she spat. "She has ruined everything."
"Mother, what about Katlin?" I asked, my voice tight with worry. "The baby..."
Her eyes turned hard as flint. "The child cannot happen, not now. As for that Jovita... she will not get away with humiliating this family."
She summoned her personal attendant, Mrs. Potts. "Send men," my mother commanded in a low, vicious tone. "Find Jovita Sullivan. I want her brought back here. I will teach her the consequences of shaming a Harrison."
I watched my mother's rigid back as she swept away. A cold dread, deeper than the fear of my grandfather's anger, settled in my stomach.
I didn't know where Jovita had gone.
But I had a sickening premonition that she wouldn't be as easy to handle as Katlin. The image of her eyes, burning with cold fire as she held that flaming veil, flashed in my mind.
For the first time, I felt a flicker of fear.
