Isabella placed the ring on the head table beside two untouched champagne glasses.
“I’m not marrying a man who turns a wedding into a public punishment.”
Julian stared at the ring.
“You cannot do this in front of everyone.”
“You were willing to humiliate Annie in front of everyone.”
“That was different.”
“No,” Isabella said.
“You only thought it was different because you believed she had no power.”
She gathered the front of her gown and walked toward the private corridor leading to the bridal suite.
Beatrice hurried after her, calling her name, but one of Isabella’s attendants closed the door before she could follow.
Julian remained beside table 19.
The orchestra had stopped playing.
The musicians waited behind their stands, uncertain whether the reception still existed.
The wedding cake stood beneath a crystal chandelier, untouched and absurdly perfect.
Julian turned on Annie.
“You planned this.”
“I accepted your invitation.”
“You brought him because you knew who he was.”
“He is my fiancé.
I brought him because we do not hide our relationship.”
The word fiancé seemed to reach Julian only then.
His eyes dropped to the ring on Annie’s hand.
For three years, he had imagined her frozen at the moment he discarded her.
The fantasy had comforted him.
It allowed him to believe that his success proved her failure.
Now she stood before him composed, loved, and entirely beyond his reach.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
Annie’s expression changed—not into anger, but disbelief.
“You never asked anything about my life.
You invited a memory you thought you could punish.”
Beatrice returned from the corridor alone.
Her pearls had shifted, and a strand of hair had fallen across her forehead.
“You,” she said to Annie.
“You have ruined everything.”
Annie looked around the ballroom.
“No.
I sat where you told me to sit.
Everything after that came from what you chose to say.”
Beatrice lunged for the folder.
A security officer stepped between them.
“Mrs.
Thorne, please lower your voice.”
She recoiled as though he had struck her.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, ma’am.
You are the event host listed on the contract.”
“And he owns this hotel,” she said, pointing at Silas.
“So now he intends to cancel the reception and parade us into the street.”
Silas finally moved away from Annie’s chair.
“No,” he said.
“The kitchen staff prepared food for two hundred people.
Servers gave up their evening.
Florists, musicians, drivers, and cleaners were promised payment.
Your behavior will not cost them their wages.”
The wedding planner looked relieved.
“All vendor contracts will be honored,” Silas continued.
