Nicholas
The grand glass conservatory was illuminated by hundreds of soft, warm fairy lights woven through white orchids and subtle yellow sunflowers—a compromise Faith had chosen herself. Beyond the reinforced glass perimeter, flashbulbs strobed continuously in the summer twilight, capturing the gathering of high-society elites, senators, and corporate moguls who filled the rows of mahogany chairs.
I stood at the altar in a bespoke black tuxedo, my hands clasped in front of me. Julian and Arthur Vance stood off to the side, looking entirely relieved that the court-ordered timeline was being met.
The soft hum of string quartets filled the air, but my pulse was hammering heavily in my ears.
Then the music shifted. The heavy iron doors at the back of the conservatory swung open.
My brea
