Chapter 2: The Mask Slips
The bridal suite fell into a suffocating silence. Even the boutique assistants in the background held their breath, clutching tape measures and pins like statues frozen in time.
Adriana’s breath caught in her throat. For a split second, sheer panic flickered across her eyes before her well-practiced smile snapped back into place. She placed a hand gracefully against her collarbone, letting out a breathy, nervous laugh.
"Julian, darling! You startled us," she purred, taking a step toward him, her satin train whispering across the carpet. "You completely misunderstood. Louis was running around with that dusty box, and I was simply worried he’d ruin the beading on my dress. You know how clumsy little boys can be."
Julian didn't blink. He looked down at the velvet box resting securely in his palm, running his thumb over the frayed gold thread. It was Clara’s box—the one she had kept on her vanity throughout her three-year battle with cancer.
"Louis wasn't running, Adriana," Julian said, his tone devoid of any warmth. "He was offering you a gift. And you knocked it from his hands."
"I was stressed!" Adriana pleaded, her pitch rising just enough to reveal the cracks in her composure. "The wedding is tomorrow, Julian! Hundreds of prominent guests, investors from your firm, the press—my nerves are completely frayed! Are you really going to lecture me over a child's tantrum on the eve of our wedding?"
"He didn't throw a tantrum," Julian replied, looking down at his son. Louis had buried his face against Julian’s tailored trousers, his small fingers clinging to his father’s jacket. "You told him this house would have new rules starting tomorrow."
Adriana’s cheeks flushed crimson beneath her flawless foundation. "I meant structure! Every child needs discipline, Julian. You spoil him rotten because of what happened to Clara. I’m only trying to be a good mother to him!"
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"A mother doesn't call a six-year-old child's memories 'junk,'" Julian said, his voice dropping an octave. "And a mother doesn't look at my son with hatred."
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