Chapter 288 Whether the Groom Would Appear

Chapter 288 Whether the Groom Would Appear
OLIVIA'S POV

My eyes fluttered open to find Jessica hovering over me, hands on her hips and exasperation written across her face. Behind her, a small army of stylists bustled around my hotel suite, setting up makeup stations and arranging hair tools.

"Don't tell me you forgot today is your wedding day?" Jessica's voice was incredulous as she yanked back the curtains, letting sunlight flood the room.

I squinted against the brightness, stretching lazily. "Of course not." My gaze drifted to the empty space beside me, still warm from where David had lain. We'd broken tradition last night when he'd appeared at my door, unable to stay away. The memory of his whispered promises in the darkness made me smile.

"Why are you looking so dreamy?" Jessica narrowed her eyes, glancing at the rumpled bedsheets. "And why does that side of the bed look slept in? Olivia Peterson! Did David break tradition and stay here last night?"

"What? No!" I sat up too quickly, my denial unconvincing even to my own ears. "I just... move around a lot when I sleep."

Jessica's eyebrow arched knowingly. "Sure you do." She mercifully changed the subject, gesturing toward the garment bag hanging on the closet door. "The collection you designed for today is absolutely stunning. I can't wait to see everyone in your creations."

"Come on, up you get!" Jessica tugged me from the bed. "These professionals need to work their magic, and we're already behind schedule."

As I settled into the vanity chair, my mind drifted to the journey that had brought David and me back to this moment. Our separation, my escape to Paris, returning to Los Angeles with Ethan, David discovering he had a son, and now his devastating diagnosis. Through it all, we'd found our way back to each other. This second wedding felt different—we were older, wiser, and knew exactly what we were fighting for.

"You seem a million miles away," Jessica commented as she watched the makeup artist apply foundation to my face.

"Just thinking about how different this wedding is from our first," I replied. "Back then, everything was about impressing the Wilson family and living up to expectations. Now it's just... us. Our truth."

Jessica squeezed my shoulder. "And a much better foundation for a marriage."

Three hours later, I stood before the full-length mirror, barely recognizing myself. The wedding dress I'd designed was everything I'd envisioned—simple yet elegant, with intricate hand-embroidered details symbolizing the journey David and I had traveled.

"Olivia," Jessica whispered, her eyes glistening, "you look absolutely stunning."

A knock interrupted us. Jessica opened the door to reveal Andrew, handsome in his tailored suit. His eyes widened appreciatively.

"Wow," he said simply. "David is one lucky man."

I smiled, grateful for his presence. Through everything, Andrew had been my rock, especially during my hand injury. He'd arranged the best specialists in Finland for my rehabilitation when I'd lost feeling in my fingers—a near-career-ending injury for a designer.

"Is it time?" I asked, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

Andrew nodded. "The guests are seated, the music is ready, and your son is charming everyone while he waits to walk with you."

We arrived at the garden venue overlooking the ocean. Rows of guests sat in white chairs decorated with the peonies David and I had chosen together. Ethan spotted me and ran over, looking precious in his custom tuxedo.

"Mommy! You look like a princess!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around my legs.

I knelt carefully, mindful of my dress, and hugged him. "And you look like the most handsome little man I've ever seen."

Andrew helped me up and leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. "I haven't seen David. So, think your groom might get cold feet and make a run for it?"

I laughed, though a tiny flicker of unease passed through me. "David wouldn't dare."

As we took our positions, I scanned the area but didn't see David yet. Before I could ask about him, a commotion erupted from the back rows. Guests turned in confusion as someone pushed through, stumbling and creating disorder.

The figure emerged into the center aisle—a woman wearing large sunglasses despite the overcast day, her clothes wrinkled and hair disheveled. When she removed her sunglasses, I felt my blood run cold.

Sarah.

She looked nothing like the polished socialite I remembered. Her eyes were dark and sunken, her makeup smeared across her face like war paint. She swayed slightly as she stood in the middle of the aisle, scanning the crowd with frantic movements.

"Where is he?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "Where's David? Olivia, you think you can just replace me?" Her accusatory finger pointed directly at me.

Security moved toward her, but she dodged them with surprising agility. "This is all your fault," Sarah suddenly spun toward Andrew, who had gone completely still beside me. "It's your fault I got dragged into this mess."

Andrew didn't respond, his face an unreadable mask.

"Tell them!" Sarah screamed. "Tell them how you helped me get close to David! How you orchestrated everything!"

The words hit me like a physical blow. I turned to Andrew, waiting for him to deny it, to explain that this was just the rambling of a disturbed woman. But he remained silent, his eyes avoiding mine.

"Andrew?" My voice was barely audible above the murmurs of shocked guests.

The lack of denial in his expression confirmed everything. A cold realization washed over me—Andrew had helped Sarah get close to David. Was it all just a game to him? A strategy to disrupt David's life for business advantage or personal revenge?

As security finally restrained Sarah, who continued shouting accusations, I stepped back from Andrew, feeling as though the ground had shifted beneath me.

"All this time," I said quietly, "all your concern and support... was any of it real?" I thought about the time in Paris, the doctors in Finland, his unwavering presence when I needed someone most.

Andrew reached for me. "Olivia, please let me explain—"

I held up my hand, stopping him. "This is my wedding day." My voice trembled slightly. "Please give me some space. I need to think."

As I turned away, I felt a deep sense of betrayal wash over me. The man I had trusted most after David had been playing a different game entirely.

And now, on what should have been the happiest day of my new beginning, I was left questioning everything—including whether the groom would even appear.