Chapter 6
Julian’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. His eyes, swimming with a mixture of hot tears and cold fury, locked onto Elena’s face. The sheer audacity of her calculation sickened him. He didn't raise his voice; in a room that large, a shout would have felt cheap. Instead, his quiet intensity carried more weight than any explosion of temper could have. "The wedding is canceled," Julian said, his voice dropping into a harsh, vibrating whisper. "You are never touching my daughter again." Elena stared at him, her mouth parting in a brief, genuine expression of shock. For a second, the aristocratic mask slipped, revealing a woman who could not fathom being rejected, let alone over a child she deemed disposable. "You can't be serious," she hissed, glancing frantically toward the chapel doors where the muffled rustle of the congregation could be heard. "My parents' friends are out there. The governor is in the third row. You'll ruin us!" Julian stepped back, shaking his head slowly. "You ruined this the moment you handed her that paper," he replied. He reached up, untied his silk bow tie in one swift motion, and let it drop to the floor. Then he unbuttoned his white tuxedo jacket, shrugging out of it and letting it fall atop the bow tie on the marble. He was done playing his part in her production. Without another word, Julian turned his back on the bride, leaving her standing alone under the chandelier in her immaculate white gown, and walked briskly back down the corridor toward the parlor where Clara was waiting.
