The bridal suite at St. Paul’s Cathedral was suffocatingly quiet, save for the rustle of heavy silk.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, staring at my reflection. The ruined, wine-stained dress was gone, replaced by a sleek, architectural masterpiece of ivory satin that Kaelen had quietly arranged for me. It was sharper, colder, and far more fitting for an execution than a wedding.
Behind me, Clara was practically vibrating with manic energy.
"You look breathtaking, Vivi," Clara cooed, her eyes shining in the mirror. But I could see the frantic, greedy light dancing in her pupils. She thought she had won.
"Thank you, Clara," I said, my voice perfectly soft and oblivious. "I couldn't have done any of this without you."
Clara’s smile tightened, a flash of smug satisfaction crossing her face. "That's what best friends are for."
Suddenly, her phone buzzed loudly on the vanity. Clara snatched it up, her eyes scanning the screen before she let out a loud, theatrical gasp.
"Oh no!" she cried, pressing a hand to her chest. "Vivi, there's a massive emergency with the caterers. The ice sculptures are melting, and the event planner is having a meltdown. I have to go handle this before the reception."
I turned to face her, playing the anxious bride. "Right now? But the ceremony starts in ten minutes."
"I know, I know!" Clara said, rushing forward to pull me into a tight, suffocating hug. She smelled like expensive vanilla and victory. "I'll be right back, I promise. Just breathe, sweetie. Today is going to be unforgettable."
"I know it will," I whispered against her shoulder.
Clara pulled away, gave me one last beaming, treacherous smile, and sprinted out of the suite. The heavy door clicked shut behind her.
Ten minutes later, the grand, imposing chords of the cathedral organ echoed through the ancient stone walls.
The heavy oak doors opened, and I stepped out into the blinding flash of cameras.
The cathedral was packed to the brim with London's elite—politicians, socialites, and old-money families. But more importantly, there were cameras everywhere.
At Silas’s strict insistence, under the guise of "sharing our love with the world," the wedding was being heavily covered by the press and live-streamed to millions.
He had wanted my humiliation to be absolute, inescapable, and permanent.
I kept my chin high as I walked down the long, velvet-lined aisle. The crowd smiled and whispered, admiring the spectacle.
But as I approached the altar, the smiles in the front rows began to falter.
The space beside the priest was completely empty.
I stepped up to the altar and stopped. The grand organ music swelled to its final, triumphant chord, and then... silence.
Everyone was waiting for the breakdown. They were waiting for my hands to shake, for the tears to spill, for me to collapse onto the marble floor and beg someone to find the man I loved.
Instead, I slowly reached up and lifted my veil.
I looked directly into the blinking red light of the primary broadcast camera, and I smiled. Before the crowd could even process my reaction, a deafening crash echoed through the cathedral.
The entire congregation gasped, twisting in their seats.
It was Kaelen.
Dressed in a flawless, custom black tuxedo, he looked like a dark, vengeful god stepping out of the shadows. The frantic whispers in the cathedral instantly died, replaced by a stunned, breathless shock.
The priest—who looked pale and terrified, clearly having already been "spoken to" by Kaelen's men—cleared his throat loudly.
"Dearly beloved," the priest stammered, his voice echoing through the microphone. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Vivienne and... Kaelen."
The crowd erupted into a chaotic frenzy of gasps and murmurs, but Kaelen’s grip on my hands tightened, anchoring me.
"I do," I said, my voice ringing out clear and steady across the cathedral.
"I do," Kaelen echoed, his voice a low, possessive rumble.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a massive, flawless diamond ring.
As he slid the cold platinum onto my finger, sealing the legal transfer of my entire trust fund into his impenetrable corporate empire, Kaelen didn't immediately kiss me.
Instead, he reached into his tuxedo jacket with his free hand and pulled out his sleek black smartphone.
Shielding the screen from the prying cameras, he tilted it down so only I could see.
It was a live, high-definition video feed. A hacked security camera from inside the luxurious cabin of a private jet.
"They are watching us right now," Kaelen whispered, his dark voice sending a violent thrill down my spine. "Smile for the cameras, my wife. Let them watch you win."
