Chapter 5
Elena turned, her smile faltering slightly when she saw the expression on Julian's face. She let out a small, dismissive breath, assuming he was merely nervous about the hundreds of people waiting outside. "Julian, darling," she said, her voice smooth and practiced as she stepped toward him, extending a gloved hand to touch his lapel. "You look pale. The bishop's waiting out in the chapel, so let's not dawdle. Leave her with the nanny." Julian didn't flinch, nor did he take her hand. Instead, he raised his right hand, holding up the creased, handwritten letter so that it hovered right between them. Elena’s eyes flicked to the paper, and the polished warmth instantly drained from her features, replaced by a sudden, hard coldness. "What is this?" she asked, her tone dropping its playful cadence. Julian stepped closer, his boots clicking sharply on the marble. His voice was dangerously quiet, stripped of all the polite deference he had maintained throughout their courtship. "You told my daughter she had to leave forever," he said, each word deliberate and measured. "You packed her away like an old piece of furniture before the ink on the license was even dry." Elena pulled her shoulders back, attempting to regain the high ground. "She's a liability, Julian. You know my family's position. Once we're married, we present a unified front. A ready-made family with a mysterious past doesn't fit the narrative we discussed." She spoke with a chilling pragmatism, as if discussing business investments rather than a six-year-old child's life. Julian stared at her, watching the calculating glint in her eyes, and realized he had never truly known the woman standing before him.
