Chapter 7 - The Altar of Deceit
The organ roared to life with the triumphant opening chords of Purcell's Trumpet Voluntary.
The heavy oak doors of the cathedral swung open, and four hundred guests rose to their feet in unified admiration as I stepped onto the white runner on Adrian’s arm.
Every eye in the sanctuary was on me, but my gaze stayed locked onto Tristan Davis.
As I walked down the long, sun-drenched aisle, I watched his face.
He wasn't looking at me with the wonder of a man watching his bride. He was looking at me with the calculating appraisal of an investment banker watching a wire transfer clear escrow.
He smiled that familiar, charming smile, adjusting his cuffs as I reached the marble steps of the altar.
Adrian kissed my cheek, whispered, "Finish him," and stepped back into the family pew.
Tristan took my hands, his palms warm and dry. "You look extraordinary, Zoe," he whispered under his breath as the organ faded into a holy silence. "The whole world is watching us."
"Yes, Tristan," I replied, my voice carrying clearly through the silent cathedral. "The whole world is watching."
The venerable episcopal bishop raised his hands to deliver the invocation.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."
The ceremony proceeded with traditional elegance until the bishop reached the solemn declaration:
"Into this holy union these two persons present come now to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let them speak now, or else forever hold their peace."
The bishop paused, preparing to move seamlessly to the vows.
"I object," a clear, ringing voice sounded through the cathedral.
The congregation froze. Several guests gasped, craning their necks to see who had spoken from the back rows.
Tristan chuckled under his breath, leaning toward me. "Some idiot thinks they're being funny. Let the ushers handle it."
"The ushers can't handle it, Tristan," I said, my voice steady, amplified by the wireless lapel microphone pinned to my bodice.
May you like
I took two steps back, pulling my hands free from his grip.
"Because the objection is coming from the bride."
