Salome’s eyes were filled with nothing but contempt for Edith.
So, her words naturally carried a sharp edge. “Honestly, someone like Edith is only suited to marry a nouveau riche. No one else would ever look twice at her.”
In truth, Salome didn’t even think Edith was worthy of marrying a nouveau riche–at least they had money.
If it were up to her, Edith would end up with some penniless, ugly old
man.
Salome didn’t notice the smug satisfaction spreading across Beckett’s face as she spoke. In his mind, he believed that, out of all possible choices, he was the very best Edith could ever hope for.
The thought put Beckett in a considerably better mood.
While both were lost in their own thoughts, Heather, who’d been brooding silently, finally burst out, her voice tinged with bitterness. “If you ask me, the Hawksley family are nothing but snobs. Ever since their fortunes soared in Northcrest these past few years, they’ve started ignoring us.”
A thought flitted through Salome’s mind: The Hawksleys never really had anything to do with the Vances, even before their rise.
But she knew better than to say that out loud–no need to bruise
Heather’s ego.
Instead, Salome chimed in with just the right amount of commiseration. “Absolutely. The Hawksleys have completely forgotten where they came from. Families like that never last.”
Her words eased half the anger in Heather’s chest.
Still, Heather couldn’t resist a final, biting remark. “I heard the Hawksleys only have one son–Justin. If anything ever happened to him, that’d be the end of their family line. Even if they managed to scrape by, it wouldn’t
really be the Hawksley family anymore, not in any real sense.”
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Of course, Heather would only dare vent like this within the safety of the Vance home–she’d never risk saying such things in public.
Even in the Vance mansion, she kept her voice low. With so many staff coming and going, you never knew who might be listening. If word ever got back to the Hawksleys, neither Heather nor the Vance family would last a day in Northcrest.
Still smarting from not being invited by the Hawksleys, Heather couldn’t let go of her resentment. She needed a new target–and Edith would do nicely.
“That little tramp Edith is getting married today, isn’t she?” Heather
sneered. “She used to go on and on about how much she loved Beckett. Now he’s barely been gone a few months and she’s already running off to marry someone else. Heartless, that’s what she is. Absolutely
shameless.”
Heather’s words jogged something in Salome’s memory.
Back when Edith lived at the Vance house, Salome had seen firsthand just how deep her feelings for Beckett ran.
The Sumners weren’t like the Vales; the Vales were a bottomless pit that Salome constantly had to fill with resources from the Vance family. But the Sumners weren’t like that.
If it hadn’t been for her relationship with Beckett, Edith never would have put up with Heather for even a day.
So why had Edith–who’d been so devoted to Beckett–turned around and agreed to marry someone else?
Salome narrowed her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be… Edith already knew Beckett was alive?
No, that couldn’t be. Salome stamped out the thought as quickly as it surfaced.
Impossible. If that wretched girl knew Beckett was alive, she would have stormed back to fight for him instead of quietly leaving the Vance family.
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More likely, Edith was just fickle–maybe she’d only been pretending all
along.
The more Salome thought about it, the more at ease she felt.
Outside, Northcrest basked in the height of summer, the sky flawless and blue. Through the city center, a fleet of Rolls–Royce Phantoms glided by, their hoods simply but elegantly adorned with fresh damask roses.
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There was an understated opulence to the motorcade–luxury that couldn’t quite be hidden, despite every effort to keep things low–key. Passersby couldn’t help but stare, curiosity lighting their faces.
Was this really a wedding convoy? Who else could afford such extravagance and still try so hard to keep it discreet?
Confused onlookers even took to the internet, searching for any clue as to what day it might be. The more people searched, the more a certain phrase began to trend.
Northcrest: The Hawksley Heir’s Wedding Day.
The Hawksley family’s enterprises stretched across the
country–everyone had heard of them. But Justin Hawksley himself was a mystery. He guarded his privacy fiercely; outside of his own rarefied circle, almost no one had ever seen him, and even within it, only a select few had met him in person.
Online chatter exploded. Who exactly was this enigmatic Hawksley Heir?
But no matter how deep they dug, the internet sleuths found nothing useful–not a single revealing detail about the heir, let alone the identity of the bride he was marrying.
One socialite influencer, though, did leave a few tantalizing comments amid the speculation.
Yvonne; <
Yvonne was a well–known name among Northcrest’s elite. Her online persona–rich, beautiful, and impeccably connected–gave her words weight. People took her at face value.
And so, the rumors took on a life of their own.
The popular theory? Years ago, the Hawksleys had made a promise to another family. Now that promise was being used as leverage, and,
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unwilling to be branded as untrustworthy, the Hawksleys had no choice but to go through with a reluctant marriage.
Yvonne watched with satisfaction as the narrative spun further and further from the truth. She was doing her best to cast the Sumner family’s daughter as an opportunist–a shameless woman cashing in on a decades–old joke, forcing her way into the Hawksley family.
Yvonne hated this woman who had appeared out of nowhere.
If it hadn’t been for her, Yvonne would have been the leading lady of this story.
The Hart family was on the rise. Perhaps they weren’t quite on the Hawksleys‘ level, but in all of Northcrest, no one was more suited to Justin than her.
Right now, Yvonne’s resentment toward Edith–the mysterious new bride–was at its peak.
Her online comments grew increasingly irrational.
Yvonne: <>
Suddenly, the internet was ablaze with arguments about the “divorced woman” marrying into the Hawksleys.
People clung to their fairy tales: Prince Charming was supposed to marry Snow White, wasn’t he? But now, Snow White was being replaced by a woman with a past. Everyone had an opinion, and the gossip only grew louder.
The Vance family saw the rumors, too.
Salome scoffed, “Has Justin lost his mind? Why would he marry a divorced woman? It’s ridiculous!”
Beckett glanced at Salome’s phone, unimpressed. “Stop reading this nonsense. The Hawksley marriage is with the Hart family’s daughter. There’s no way she’s divorced. Besides, Justin isn’t stupid, and he’s not some desperate old tycoon. He wouldn’t settle for a woman with
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baggage.”
In Northcrest’s most lavish wedding hall, the air was thick with the scent of Damask roses, flown in especially for the occasion. Romance seemed to permeate every breath.
Edith walked slowly down the aisle, her gown trailing behind her, a delicate diamond tiara glittering atop her veil. She clutched a bouquet of blush–pink roses, toes touching the edge of the scarlet carpet.
At the altar, Justin stood waiting, handsome in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, looking every inch the gentleman.
But his eyes betrayed him–they gleamed with emotion, even a hint of redness.
He had waited for this day for so many years.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.