Chapter 2 - The Grand Meridian Ballroom
The Grand Meridian Resort rose against the coastline like a fortress of glass and white marble. Chandeliers poured amber light across the grand ballroom, catching diamonds, silver cufflinks, and polished champagne buckets. The air smelled of expensive cologne, beeswax candles, and roasted coffee beans drifting from the dessert station.
I stood near the edge of the sweeping marble staircase, leaning heavily on my wooden crutch. My pink bridesmaid dress—a ridiculous chiffon creation Sutton had forced me to wear despite knowing it wouldn't accommodate my bulky medical brace—felt like a mockery of my physical condition. My right leg throbbed beneath the fabric, swollen and stiff from the cross-country flight.
Across the room, Sutton stood surrounded by her sycophantic bridesmaids, holding a glass of vintage champagne. When she spotted me leaning against a marble pillar, her face twisted in absolute disgust. She excused herself, her stiletto heels clicking sharply against the stone floor, and marched straight toward me.
“Fallon, what in God’s name are you wearing?” she hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “That robotic abomination sticking out from under your dress looks like an industrial scaffold. You’re ruining the whole minimalist vibe.”
“Sutton, my tibia isn't healed yet,” I whispered, keeping my voice low to avoid attracting the attention of the arriving guests. “The doctor said I have to keep the brace locked at a straight angle.”
“You always find a way to steal the spotlight,” she spat back, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. “Ever since your little cargo accident, you’ve been milking the sympathy card. Just stay in the back during the rehearsal walk. Don't trip over your own feet and make our family look pathetic.”
Before I could reply, Alden walked up behind her, holding two glasses of sparkling cider. He was a tall, sharp-featured man with kind eyes—a stark contrast to his intimidating older brother Adriano, whom I had spotted earlier standing quietly near a black marble column across the hall. Alden took one look at my pale face and the sweat beading on my forehead.
“How’s the knee holding up, Fallon?” Alden asked genuinely, crouching down slightly to check my posture. “I told the wedding coordinator to place a small velvet stool at the altar so you won't have to stand through the entire ceremony.”
“Thank you, Alden,” I murmured, a genuine wave of relief washing over me. “I appreciate that.”
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Sutton’s face flushed a furious shade of crimson. Her fingers tightened around her champagne glass so hard I thought the crystal would snap. She hated nothing more than seeing anyone show me basic human decency.
“Don't encourage her, Alden,” Sutton snapped, yanking his arm away. “The wedding coordinator is calling us. It’s time for the grand descent.”
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