Chapter 3 - The Broken Aisle
A collective murmur rippled through the grand cathedral as Arthur stepped through the wooden double doors, pulling Lily firmly behind his flank.
Victoria stepped back into the center aisle, her champagne train gathering on the white runner. The bishop paused, his gold-embroidered Bible hovering open in his hands. Row upon row of high-society guests turned their heads, their hushed conversations dying instantly under the suffocating tension that poured from the groom.
Arthur stopped five feet from his bride. He didn't look like a man about to pledge his soul; he looked like a prosecutor stepping up to the execution block.
"Arthur, think about what you're doing," Victoria hissed under her breath, her brilliant smile fixed on her face for the benefit of the surrounding photographers, though her eyes burned with dark malice. "The board meets tomorrow. If this wedding doesn't finalize, your firm's shares will be liquidated by noon. You'll be ruined."
"The wedding is off," Arthur announced, his voice booming through the vaulted stone arches of the hall, echoing off the stained glass windows.
Victoria’s smile dissolved instantly, her face draining of color until she matched the white lilies banking the altar.
May you like
Arthur reached up with his left hand, tearing the white rose from his lapel and dropping it onto the champagne silk of her train. He looked down at her with an absolute, terrifying clarity that sent a shiver down the spines of the front-row directors.
"You will never touch my daughter again," Arthur added, his hand gripping Lily’s small, cold palm with protective iron strength.
