Chapter 3 - The Golden Bride
I turned my back on Julian and walked purposefully toward the bridal suite on the second floor. Behind me, Julian was frantically dialing his phone, likely trying to warn Adrian or Colleen, but I knew time was on my side. In a high-society wedding, a groom cannot simply sprint across the lawn in broad daylight without raising the suspicions of fifty private security guards and two hundred high-profile guests.
The bridal suite doors were flanked by two massive white arrangements I had placed earlier that morning. Through the double French doors, I heard the light clinking of champagne flutes and the bubble of high-pitched laughter.
I took a deep breath, slipped the master clipboard under my arm, and tapped firmly on the door.
""Enter!"" a melodious voice called out.
I pushed the door open. Evelyn Sterling was standing on a velvet-covered pedestal in the center of the luxurious dressing room. She was stunning in an understated, old-money way—tall, slender, with delicate features and honey-blonde hair swept into an intricate French chignon. Her bridal gown was an original Parisian lace creation, worth more than my entire flower shop inventory combined.
Standing beside her were three bridesmaids in matching slate-blue silk gowns, sipping vintage Dom Pérignon.
""Oh, thank goodness, the florist,"" Evelyn said, glancing at me in the mirror with a relieved smile. ""The boutonnieres for the groomsmen were supposed to have white gardenias, but someone told me the petals looked slightly bruised. Can you check them?""
""I have fresh gardenias in my cold transport bin downstairs, Miss Sterling,"" I said, my tone polite, deferential, and entirely professional. ""I’ll personally replace every single one before the processional begins.""
Evelyn turned around on the pedestal, looking down at me with genuine warmth. ""Thank you so much. I'm sorry if I sound neurotic. It’s just... Anthony has worked so hard to make this day perfect. He’s had such a tragic year, losing his entire family in that awful house fire in Chicago. He deserves today to be flawless.""
My heart gave a dark, violent kick.
A house fire in Chicago.
Adrian hadn't just faked his death; he had completely erased Colleen and Julian from his official backstory to Evelyn. Colleen was probably attending today under the guise of an old family friend or a distant aunt, while Julian was posing as an old college fraternity brother. He had painted himself as a tragic, penniless orphan of noble lineage who had rebuilt his fortune from scratch through sheer grit. He had fed this innocent woman the exact same romantic poison he had fed me five years ago.
""A house fire,"" I murmured softly. ""That must have been devastating for him.""
Evelyn’s eyes softened, a veil of protective tenderness falling over her face. ""It was awful. He still gets nightmares about it. When he talks about his parents, he breaks down in tears. He told me that when he looked into my eyes, it was the first time since the fire that he felt like he had a home again.""
One of the bridesmaids, a tall brunette with diamond studs, rolled her eyes playfully. ""Alright, Evie, don't start crying again before the makeup artist leaves. You’ve told that story six times today.""
""I can't help it,"" Evelyn laughed, dabbing the corner of her eye with a silk handkerchief. ""I just love him so much. My father was skeptical at first—he ran background checks on Anthony’s business, of course—but Anthony’s credentials and Delaware corporate filings were completely spotless. My dad even agreed to appoint him executive vice president of Sterling Global Ventures after the honeymoon.""
I stood still, listening to every syllable. The pieces were locking together like the gears of a trap. Adrian hadn't just faked his death to escape loan sharks; this was a calculated, predatory long-con. He had forged corporate credentials, created dummy shell corporations in Delaware, and seduced a billionaire’s daughter to gain direct executive access to one of the largest private wealth funds in the country.
""He sounds like an extraordinary man, Miss Sterling,"" I said, keeping my gaze locked on hers. ""A man who knows exactly how to get what he wants.""
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Evelyn smiled brightly, entirely oblivious to the double meaning. ""He truly is. Could you bring up my bouquet now? I’d love to hold it while the photographer takes the bridal portraits.""
""Of course,"" I replied, bowing my head slightly. ""I’ll bring your bouquet up myself in ten minutes. And I promise you, Miss Sterling... it will be an arrangement you will never, ever forget.""
