Chapter 210: Did you forget.... Mom? Dad?

The grand foyer of the estate transformed in a matter of hours into a breathtaking indoor sanctuary of white roses, silver draping, and soft candlelight.

The string quartet had begun to test their instruments, filling the air with a gentle, floating melody that blended seamlessly with the chatter of the arriving guests.

Amidst the elegant chaos, baby Sunny was gently scooped off Ridge’s chest by Arthur. The older man beamed proudly, adjusting the lapel of his tailored velvet suit and cradling the infant as if he were holding royal gold.

Beside him stood young Andrew, dressed to the nines in a miniature black tuxedo complete with a silk bow tie. Andrew’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his lower lip poked out in a magnificent, deep pout.

"Grandpa, this is totally unfair," Andrew grumbled, glaring up at Arthur with fierce indignation. "I am his official bodyguard. I should be carrying him down the aisle, not you. I'm the one who has been reading him bedtime stories about corporate law in the hospital!"

Arthur chuckled, rocking Sunny gently. "Bodyguards walk beside the VIP, young man, they don't carry them. Besides, you have a much more important job. You’re the flower boy."

"I don't want to throw flowers," Andrew muttered, kicking the toe of his shiny dress shoe against the polished floor. "Throwing petals is for babies."

"You are a baby," a sweet, high-pitched voice piped up from behind them.

Andrew spun around to find little Leila standing there. Claire’s bright, energetic daughter,just a year younger than Andrew was wearing a gorgeous white tulle flower-girl dress and holding a small woven basket overflowing with pink rose petals. She gave Andrew a cheeky, gap-toothed grin. "And if you don't throw the flowers nicely, I'm going to trip you on the aisle."

"You wouldn't dare," Andrew hissed, his eyes narrowing in a serious standoff between children. "I know martial arts. Well, I saw it on TV, which is basically the same thing."

Leila just giggled, poking him in the arm with a spare rose stem before skipping off toward the seating area. Andrew groaned, rolling his eyes to the heavens, muttering something about women being absolute chaos.

Meanwhile, inside the groom's suite on the opposite side of the mansion, the atmosphere was slightly more panicked.

Ridge stood in front of a full-length mirror, frantically trying to straighten his black silk tie for the third time, his broad shoulders visibly tense.

Donald walked into the room, dressed impeccably in a charcoal three-piece suit, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. "Still breathing, Mr. Lockhart? You look like you're about to storm a hostile merger rather than marry your own wife."

Ridge shot Donald a dark, warning glare through the glass. "Shut up, Donald. My tie is crooked."

"Your tie is fine," Donald laughed, walking over and giving the silk knot a quick, expert flick to center it. "Though I have to say, it is deeply entertaining to see the most feared man in the city sweating through a custom suit because of a wedding ceremony."

"It's not the ceremony," Ridge muttered, dropping his hands and turning to face his chief associate. "It's making sure everything is perfect for her. She deserves this after everything she survived."

Donald’s expression softened into a genuine, warm smile. He clapped Ridge firmly on the shoulder. "She knows you love her, Ridge. And speaking of perfection... Since you didn't exactly have time to plan a bachelor party months ago, I suppose I have the dubious honor of standing right here beside you. Am I officially your best man?"

Ridge raised an eyebrow, a faint, rare smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "Who else would I trust not to leak our wedding photos to the tabloids? You're it, Donald. Try not to trip over your own feet."

"An honor, boss," Donald grinned.

Across the hall in the bridal suite, the mood was equally emotional, but for an entirely different reason.

Kristy and Claire were bustling around the room like a pair of high-speed tactical units. Kristy, wearing a stunning pale-rose bridesmaid dress, was busy fluffing the layers of Elisa’s soft, ivory silk gown, while Claire adjusted the pearl-drop earrings on Elisa's lobes.

"Look at you," Claire breathed, stepping back with a hand pressed against her chest, her blonde hair catching the light from the vanity mirror. "If the tabloids could see you right now, every fashion magazine in the country would riot. You look breathtaking."

Elisa offered a soft, nervous smile, catching her reflection in the glass. Her vibrant red hair had been styled into loose, elegant waves that cascaded over one shoulder, and her makeup was light, natural, and radiant. "Thank you, Claire. Really. I never thought... I honestly never thought I'd get to wear a dress like this."

"Well, get used to it," Kristy beamed, adjusting the delicate lace veil pinned into Elisa's hair. "Because Ridge is never letting you out of this estate again anyway. You're locked down for life, girl."

Elisa laughed, a warm, bubbling sound that filled the room. All the dark whispers of the past weeks,the hospital cleaner, the ghost stories about Amanda, the seeds of doubt felt a million miles away. Looking in the mirror, she knew she was making the right choice. She loved Ridge, and he loved her. This was their fresh start.

"Alright, gorgeous," Claire said, checking her gold wristwatch. "The string quartet is playing the prelude. We're heading out to take our places. Kristy and I will see you at the altar in five minutes."

"Go," Elisa smiled, taking a deep, grounding breath. "I'm right behind you."

The bridesmaids grabbed their bouquets of white peonies and slipped out of the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind them. The suite fell into a sudden, quiet hush.

Elisa stood alone in the center of the room, smoothing the front of her gown. She closed her eyes, mentally walking through her vows, preparing to step out and take the biggest, happiest step of her life.

Click.

The door to the bridal suite slowly creaked open.

"Claire, did you forget your—" Elisa started, turning around with a bright, expectant smile on her face.

The words died instantly in her throat.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the bright light of the hallway, were two figures she never, in a million years, expected to see inside the Lockhart estate.

Her parents.

Theodore Lee stood tall in his dark, tailored business suit, his silver-streaked hair neatly brushed, his expression a complicated mix of heavy paternal pride and stubborn defiance. Beside him stood Olga, her mother, wrapped in a shimmering emerald gown, her hands trembling as she stared at Elisa with wide, glistening eyes.