Chapter 7
Downstairs, the murmur of voices grew louder as guests mingled in the grand ballroom. Someone was playing a prelude on the piano, the notes drifting softly up the stairwell like a reminder of the world they were currently locked out of.
Elena turned toward the stairs, her hand resting on the polished banister. “The guests are wondering where we are,” she said quietly, not looking back. “The coordinator is probably having a panic attack by the buffet. We have five minutes before someone comes looking for us.”
Arthur looked up from Lily, his heart pounding against his ribs. “What are we going to tell them?”
“We aren’t telling them anything yet,” Elena replied, turning to face him. Her eyes were dry now, replaced by a fierce, terrifying clarity. “We are going to go downstairs together. You, me, and Lily.”
Arthur stood up abruptly, panic flashing across his features. “Elena, no. We can’t just present her to two hundred high-society guests in the middle of a wedding ceremony. It will be a scandal. The press—business partners—my family—”
“Your family needs a reality check,” Elena interrupted, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think I care about what the board members or your snobbish mother will say? You lied to me about having a child. You kept her hidden in a hallway while we rehearsed our vows. If you think I am going to walk down that aisle and pretend everything is pristine while your daughter sits out here crying, you are insane.”
Lily looked up at the sound of raised voices, her lower lip trembling. Arthur noticed the terror in her eyes and felt a sudden, fierce protective instinct surge through him—not self-preservation, but genuine paternal instinct for the first time in his life.
“You’re right,” Arthur said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.
Elena blinked, surprised by his sudden capitulation. “What?”
“You’re right,” Arthur repeated, standing tall. He looked down at Lily and extended a hand. The little girl stared at it for a long, agonizing second before placing her small, warm fingers inside his palm. He felt an electric jolt of responsibility run up his arm. “We aren’t hiding her anymore. If the wedding happens, it happens with her by our side. If it falls apart, then at least I’m finally doing one thing right.”
May you like
Elena studied his face, searching for any sign of manipulation or hesitation. Finding none, a slow, complicated breath escaped her lips. She reached down, picked up the red box from the floor, and held it against her lace bodice like a shield.
***
