Chapter 39 39.Wedding Day
Wedding Day
Tabitha’s POV
The day—afternoon actually—before the wedding, I walk into the Sharpe Hotel with my overnight bag on my shoulder and a garment bag in my hand. All around me, I see other guests starting to arrive, hauling suitcases of their own. The lobby hums with greetings and excitement as people check in. Some staff from the Aldair estate are also noting the influx of new guests, making sure everyone is here before the big day tomorrow.
This is the main branch owned by Eliott Sharpe, Alpha of the Deathclaw Pack. From what I know, Eliott owns most of the real estate developments and luxury properties on the island, but this one is his crown jewel. This hotel is known for its beachside view, which is why it was chosen for the ceremony. When I was younger, I never even thought about stepping foot in here. Now my mom is getting married on its beachside lawn. It’s crazy how life can take you places you never imagined.
Mom walks beside me toward the elevators, chatting with one of the hotel staff who just helped with her bags. “Your room’s on the same floor as mine, darling,” she says once the staff leaves. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” I smile at her. She gives me a quick kiss on my forehead before heading to her room.
Our suites are in different hallways, but when I reach my door, I realize it’s right between Jace’s and Reed’s rooms. Across the hall, Luca and Evren are unlocking their own. As if on cue, all four brothers look over.
“Oh, hey there, neighbor.” Jace grins at me.
I let out a mock groan. “Oh, just my luck.”
Jace leans against his doorframe, a mischievous tilt to his mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m the quiet one.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.” Reed snorts.
“Fine,” Jace concedes. “I’m the fun one.”
I shake my head, biting back a smile as I slide my keycard into the door. He’s definitely the shameless one, that’s for sure.
“Right. I’ll take your word for it,” I say, already stepping inside. “Enjoy your… fun.”
I close the door behind me, set my bags down, and let out a slow breath, my thoughts already drifting to the wedding tomorrow and the chaos it’s bound to bring.
Hopefully, it will go smoothly.
On the day of the wedding, I managed to spend a few minutes with my mom in her suite. The stylists pulled me into a chair and started working on my hair and makeup while she sat across from me, already halfway through her own preparations. The room was full of bridesmaids getting ready, each one taking turns in front of the mirrors
Everything feels overwhelming with so many people fussing over my hair and makeup, but I can’t deny the small thrill of being pampered like the princesses I used to watch on TV when I was younger.
My mom and I talked in between the chatter. She sounds very energetic even as the makeup artist powdered her cheeks. We didn’t have long, but I could tell she was happy I was there.
When the stylists finished with me, I kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll see you later, Mom. I bet you’ll be the most beautiful bride in history.” I wink at her.
Mom beams at me and I think I see unshed tears in her eyes. “I can’t wait to see you in your dress too, darling. See you later!”
I made my way back to my suite. As soon as I slid my keycard into the lock, I noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Did someone barge in my room? But how? I’m the only one who has an access card to this room… right?
My pulse quickened. All the warning red lights blare in my head. Something’s amiss. And when I pushed the door open, I confirm my suspicion.
An open bottle of wine sat on the table, its contents spilled across the carpet in a wide red stain.
“Oh my—SHIT!”
I go straight to the closet where my dress should be hanging. My chest tightens when I see it stripped from its protective covering. The zipper is broken. It hangs loosely at the back, and I notice dark blotches marring the hem.
“No, no… NO!” A sharp wave of panic surges through me as I grip the fabric, my hands trembling.
If this is a nightmare, please wake me up.
It feels like death slams into me and for a moment. I forget how to breathe. I’m screwed. I’m so unbelievably screwed.
I promised myself I wouldn’t let anything ruin Mom’s big day, swore I would keep everything together no matter what, and now I’m doing the very thing I feared most. I fumble the wrecked fabric, desperately checking if there’s a way to salvage it. But the zipper is shredded and the hem is ruined.
“Oh my god…” my voice crack. I just want to curl in the corner and cry.
What am I going to do?
The wedding is an hour away. How am I supposed to show up with a trashed dress?
I spend the next minutes trying to desperately remove the stain from the dress using water and soap. But even that can’t do the trick. Besides, the zippers are still busted and walking down the aisle with this is as good as going there naked.
A sharp knock rattles the door, jolting me upright. I swipe at my face, but it is useless. The tears keep spilling, and my cheeks are wet.
I drag the door open with the dress still clutched in my arms. One of the wedding staff stands at the doorway and gawks at me, her face shifting from calm to stunned disbelief.
“Oh my god. Have you been crying?” Her voice sounds surprised but her eyes don't show any bit of empathy. I glance at the name tag on her breast: Jessica.
“My dress,” I choke out, holding it up for her to see. “It is destroyed. The zipper is broken, and there are stains everywhere. I cannot wear this.”
Her lips flatten, and instead of sympathy, her eyes narrow.
“Then perhaps you should sit this one out. If you walk with the procession like that, you will ruin the wedding.” I can sense the utter disdain in her voice.
“W-What? But my mother—” My throat closes up. “I am supposed to stand with her. I cannot just disappear.”
“You will only draw attention for the wrong reasons,” she replies, almost sneering. “This day is meant to be perfect. Do you really want to embarrass the bride?”
Her words cut through me like glass. My hands shake harder around the fabric. I open my mouth to argue, but no words come. It feels like someone has knocked the air out of me. Maybe she’s right. My mom poured a lot of effort into this wedding. I can’t be the reason why things don’t go well.
The door across the hall clicks open. I turn my head in time to see Luca step out, his dark eyes flicking from me to the staff. His face hardens in a familiar expression I recognize as displeasure.
“What is going on here?”
Jessica stiffens, visibly paling at the intimidating sight of Luca.
“M-Mr. Aldair. I was only trying to—”
“Trying to what? Tell the bride’s daughter she should be cut from the procession?” His tone is sharp enough to make me flinch.
Her face drains of color. “N-no, of course not! I only meant that perhaps it would be less distracting if she stayed out of sight until the ceremony was finished.”
“You do not get to decide that,” Luca says coldly. “Your job is to ensure everything is set for this wedding, not to make choices about who belongs in it. And you certainly have no right to exclude someone from the Aldair family.”
The woman’s hands fidget against her clipboard. “I…I only thought it would spare complications. We want everything to be perfect.”
“Perfect does not mean silencing family members. You will find a solution for the dress. Either bring a replacement or find someone who can. If you cannot, then I will personally make sure this is the last wedding you ever coordinate,” Luca declares. His scowl deepens. I almost feel sorry for her.
“U-Understood! I’m sorry, Mr. Aldair!”
With quick, clumsy steps, she bolts down the corridor, disappearing in a hurry.
“You scared her away,” I mutter while hugging the ruined gown to my chest.
“You’re welcome,” Luca says boredly.
“This is serious! That dress was tailored for me and for this occasion. It is impossible to find a replacement at the last minute.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Would you rather not attend your mother’s wedding, then?”
The thought alone makes my stomach turn.
“What if they do find a spare dress, but it does not fit me? What then?” Great, I’m starting to panic again.
“I will handle that,” he says as if it is the simplest problem in the world.
He pulls out his phone, steps a short distance away, and presses it to his ear. I catch fragments of his words as he paces slowly down the corridor.
“Yes. I need a team here. Bring the atelier staff. No excuses. Now.”
He listens for a moment, his hand in his pocket as if he has all the time in the world.
“Good. Four dresses. Blue, near powder. Alter them to size on-site. I do not care how. Just get it done.”
“What was that?” I ask, tilting my head to peek at his phone.
“That was me handling things.” His lips curl into an almost smug smile. “Now, wipe the snot on your face. I don’t want you looking like shit when they arrive.
“I don’t have snot.” I glare at him and hastily wipe my face with a handkerchief. “And who are ‘they’?”
“You’ll see.”