Meeting the family 3

Meeting the family 3
~ANNA'S POV

The ballroom stole my breath.

Not because it was beautiful—though it was, but because of the scale. Hundreds of guests. An orchestra playing something classical and haunting. Champagne towers.

Jamal's hand was warm in mine as he navigated us through the crowd, and I held onto it like a lifeline, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"You good?" he asked softly, leaning close so only I could hear.

"Yeah."

A waiter appeared with a tray of champagne flutes. I took one, needing something to hold, something to do with my hands.

"There he is," Jamal said, gesturing toward a table near the front of the room.

Sebastian Santos commanded space just by existing. Silver hair, sharp eyes. He sat like a king surveying his kingdom, a champagne flute in one hand, the other resting on the table.

And beside him—

A woman. Beautiful, poised, her dark hair swept up elegantly, a massive diamond catching the light on her left hand.

The bride.

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to keep walking.

"Uncle Sebastian." Jamal's voice held genuine warmth as the older man stood to greet us.

They embraced briefly.

"Jamal. You made it." Sebastian turned. "And this must be the famous Anna Chen."

"It's an honour to meet you, Mr Santos." I extended my hand, praying he couldn't feel how badly I was shaking.

His handshake was firm, confident. "Sebastian, please. Any woman who has captured my godson's heart deserves to be family." A pause. "I've heard a great deal about your performances. Quite impressive for someone so young."

"Thank you." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "The tour has been... incredible."

"I'm sure it has." His eyes held mine a moment longer, and I had the unsettling feeling he could see straight through me. Then he smiled. "Please, sit. We've been expecting you."

"Sebastian." The woman beside him stood with fluid grace. "You're monopolising our guests."

I turned to really look at her for the first time.

The bride. There was something familiar about her, something that nagged at the edges of my memory, but I couldn't place it.

She was stunning up close—the kind of beauty that came from good genes and better grooming.

And her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Congratulations," I managed. "On your wedding."

"Thank you." Her gaze travelled over me, head to toe, cataloguing. Judging. "Please, sit. My husband will join us in just a moment—he's greeting some investors."

Husband.

The word landed like a stone in my stomach.

I sat because my legs wouldn't hold me much longer. Jamal settled beside me, his hand finding mine under the table, grounding me.

Sebastian was saying something about the tour... All while my heart raced with a fear I couldn't name.

My skin prickled. The air shifted. Even before I heard the voice, something in my body knew—some primal instinct screaming danger.

"Sorry about that."

The voice froze my blood.

His voice.

The voice I had heard in my dreams for five weeks, the voice that had said my name like a prayer, the voice that had promised to fight for me and then disappeared into silence.

Every muscle in my body locked.

No.

It couldn't be.

Please, God, it couldn't be.

I looked up slowly, already knowing what I had seen, already feeling my world tilt on its axis.

And there he was.

James.

He stood three feet away, frozen mid-step, his hand still extended from shaking someone's hand, his mouth open on words that had died the second he saw me.

Our eyes met.

And I watched—in horrible, slow motion—every emotion crash across his face.

Shock. Recognition. Disbelief.

Joy—god, there was joy there, just for a heartbeat—

Then horror. Pure, absolute horror.

Because he understood what I was only beginning to piece together.

Elena Santos. The bride.
James Reynolds. The groom.
The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity.

The champagne glass slipped from my fingers.

I watched it fall in slow motion. Watched it shatter on the floor.

Just like my heart. Shattering. Everywhere.

"Anna," he breathed, and the way he said my name—broken, desperate, destroyed—should have made me feel powerful.

Instead, it made me feel like I was dying.

The connections formed in my mind like dominoes falling, each one hitting the next with inevitable, horrible logic.

Elena Santos—daughter of Sebastian Santos.

Sebastian Santos—Jamal's uncle. His godfather.

Elena married James.

Jamal is Elena's cousin.

Jamal brought me here.

Jamal brought me to James's wedding reception.

"You knew," I said.

My voice sounded distant. Calm. It felt like it belonged to someone else.

"Anna?" Jamal's voice, concerned. "What's happening?"

I stared at him, searching his face. Did he know? Had he always known?

"Your cousin," I said slowly. "Elena is your cousin."

"Yes, but—"

"And you brought me to her."

His eyes widened. "Anna, I didn't know you knew James—"

"LIAR!"

My scream echoed through the hall. The orchestra had stopped playing. Every guest, every camera, every person in that room was staring at us now.

I didn't care.

"Miss Chen." Sebastian's voice, sharp with authority. "Perhaps you should sit down."

"Perhaps you should tell your godson to stop LYING to me." I turned to him, past caring about making a good impression. "Did you know? Did you all know?"

"Know what, darling?" Elena's voice was smooth as silk. "You're making a scene."

I turned to her. Really looked at her.

The bride. The wife. The woman who'd taken everything.

"You," I breathed. "You planned this."

Elena's smile was perfect. Practiced. Poisonous. "I don't know what you mean."

"Anna." James's voice, desperate, reaching for me. "Please, let me explain—"

"Explain WHAT?" I spun to face him. "Explain how you married her? How you chose HER?"

"I didn't choose—"

"ENOUGH"

They had won. Elena with her perfect smile. Sebastian with his knowing eyes. Maybe even Jamal. They'd orchestrated this humiliation perfectly, and I'd walked right into it like a fool.

Everyone in the room was expecting more drama, like they had expected, Elena, James even Jamal, but I couldn't take it anymore.

I ran. Trying to hide the tears in my eyes.

Through the crowd that parted like water. Past the photographers who raised cameras. Past the wedding photos that mocked me with every step.

Out of the ballroom. Through the lobby. Toward the doors.

Toward anywhere that wasn't here.

Then I heard my name.

"Anna!"

I knew that voice. James. Something in my heart twisted with pain. Can't he let me be for once?