Chapter 2 - The Grand Entrance
The Prescott estate in Charleston was dripping in white roses and old-money arrogance. Hundreds of the city’s elite sat in perfectly aligned rows on the manicured lawn, waiting for the string quartet to announce the bride.
Julian stood at the altar in a custom tuxedo, looking handsome but entirely hollow. In the front row, Vivian Prescott sat like a queen on her throne, an expression of utter triumph on her polished face. She was waiting for me to slink into the back row, alone and weeping, to witness the ultimate proof of my defeat.
Instead, I waited until the music faded to a quiet hum.
Then, I walked down the center aisle.
I wasn't wearing a modest sundress. I wore a striking, floor-length emerald gown. And I wasn't alone. Holding my right hand was Leo. Holding my left was Luke. Both boys wore tiny, tailored suits. And walking confidently slightly ahead of us was my daughter, Maya, in a dress that matched mine.
The murmurs began instantly.
Vivian turned her head to sneer at my arrival—but the second her eyes fell on the boys, all the color drained from her face. She gasped, her manicured hand flying to her throat.
At the altar, Julian froze. He stopped breathing. His eyes darted from my face to the two four-year-old boys who were exact, undeniable carbon copies of him. He stumbled forward a half-step, completely forgetting the hundreds of guests, the altar, and the bride waiting in the mansion.
"Clara?" Julian breathed, his voice cracking loudly in the silent courtyard.
That was when Maya stopped walking.
May you like
She let go of my hand, tilted her head, and pointed a tiny finger directly at the groom. Her sweet, high-pitched voice echoed perfectly across the stunned crowd.
"Mommy," Maya asked innocently. "Why does that man crying up there look exactly like Leo and Luke? I thought Daddy said the man who threw us away was a coward."
