Chapter 4 - The Altar Interrupted
The wedding ceremony was scheduled to begin at two o'clock in the estate’s private glass-domed conservatory.
When the ushers tried to seat us, they did so with trembling hands. The ushers—two junior executives from Ethan’s firm who remembered me from corporate banquets years ago—looked at the gold-embossed invitation in my hand, then down at the triplets, and swallowed hard.
"Front row, Mrs. Vance," the head usher whispered, his voice shaking slightly as he gestured toward the velvet-roped pews directly facing the altar. "Right... right where Mrs. Montgomery requested."
"Thank you," I said smoothly. "She has always been so thoughtful about seating."
We walked down the central aisle. Every head in the conservatory turned in unison. The whispered gossip was deafening, a low, buzzing hum that rivaled the string quartet tuning their violins near the fountain.
Ethan Montgomery stood at the altar, waiting nervously at the end of the aisle.
He looked devastatingly handsome in a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo, his blond hair perfectly styled, his jaw clenched with the nervous tension of a groom about to take the plunge. He hadn't seen us yet; his back was turned as he whispered something to his best man, his brother Julian.
We took our seats in the front row. The plush velvet cushions were soft beneath us.
"Is Uncle Ethan getting married?" Lucas asked loudly, kicking his small shiny shoes against the wooden pew.
"Yes, buddy," I whispered back, leaning down. "That's your uncle Ethan up there."
"He looks sweaty," Liam observed critically. "Does he have a fever?"
"Just nervous, sweetie."
Just then, the heavy oak doors at the back of the conservatory swung open. The organ swelled into the traditional bridal march, and the crowd rose to their feet.
Victoria Sterling appeared at the entrance. She looked breathtaking, draped in thirty thousand dollars of French lace and tulle, a veil trailing ten feet behind her. Her father beamed proudly, walking her down the aisle toward Ethan.
Ethan turned around, flashing a brilliant, relieved smile as his bride approached.
Then his eyes swept past Victoria, past the altar flowers, and landed directly on the front row.
His smile died instantly.
The color drained from Ethan’s face so fast it looked as though someone had pulled a plug in his veins. He blinked once, twice, three times, staring at me as if I were a specter risen from the grave.
Then his gaze dropped lower.
May you like
To the three little boys sitting beside me, looking back at him with his own identical, piercing gray eyes.
Ethan stumbled mid-step, his hand gripping the edge of the wooden altar so hard his knuckles turned white. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The wedding march music swelled around him, but the groom looked like a man who had just been struck by lightning.
