Chapter 127
Elena's POV
The spotlights hit us like something physical.
As we stepped onto the stage, I felt Caleb's hand grip mine tightly. The ballroom stretched out before us—three hundred faces turning toward us, mouths falling open, champagne flutes frozen mid-air.
The officiant stood center stage, microphone in hand, prepared script already forgotten. "And now, presenting the groom, Mr. Vance—"
His voice died as we emerged from the side entrance.
The silence lasted maybe two seconds. Then the whispers started, spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
"That's not Damon."
"Is that the bastard?"
"What is she doing?"
I straightened my spine, lifted my chin. The wedding dress felt heavier now, every gaze a weight pressing down. But Caleb stood beside me—tall, solid, real—and I refused to falter.
The officiant stared at us, his expression cycling through shock, confusion, and panic. His microphone tilted toward the floor.
"Continue," I said clearly.
He blinked. "But the groom—"
"My fiancé is here." I tightened my grip on Caleb's hand. "Please continue."
The officiant swallowed hard, his professional instincts warring with terror. Finally, he raised the microphone with a trembling hand.
"Let us... let us get to know this couple." His voice cracked slightly. "Mr. Vance, what was your first impression of Miss Cross?"
Caleb's silence stretched long enough that I wondered if he'd refuse to answer. Then he looked down at me, something flickering in those amber-flecked eyes.
"Disobedient."
The word hung in the air. A few nervous laughs rippled through the crowd. I felt heat climbing up my neck.
The officiant forced a smile. "That's... honest. Miss Cross, your first impression of Mr. Vance?"
I met Caleb's gaze. Saw the carefully controlled blankness in his expression. The walls he'd built to survive a childhood full of people like me.
"Guilt," I said softly.
The laughter died. The ballroom went quiet again.
I saw something flicker across Caleb's face. His hand tightened slightly around mine.
The officiant cleared his throat. "Well. That's... that's certainly a foundation for a strong partnership. Now, the exchange of rings—"
Two ring bearers approached, carrying velvet boxes. My stomach dropped as I recognized the rings inside. The ones they'd chosen days ago. Meant for Damon.
The men's band gleamed under the lights, the inscription "D&E" visible even from where I stood.
I glanced at Caleb, afraid he'd see it. Recognize it for what it was—a ring meant for someone else.
He picked up the ring, turning it between his fingers. His jaw tightened as he read the inscription.
Everyone was watching. Waiting for him to refuse. Waiting for him to throw the ring back in my face.
He took my ring and dropped to one knee.
He gripped my left hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. When he spoke, his voice was low enough that only I could hear.
"This isn't the ring I would have chosen for you. But wear it today." His eyes met mine. "I'll give you a real one. One with only our names."
My vision blurred. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He slid the ring carefully onto my finger, then rose to his feet. But he didn't release my hand. His fingers threaded through mine, holding tight and possessive.
"Now," the officiant said, his voice rising with eagerness to end this ceremony, "the final moment. The sealing kiss."
The ballroom erupted in whistles and catcalls. Someone started chanting "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Others joined in, the noise growing louder until it couldn't be ignored.
I froze.
I'd been so focused on getting here, on making this choice public, that I hadn't thought about this part. Hadn't prepared for it.
Caleb stood perfectly still before me. Waiting. Not moving. Not reaching for me.
My heart slammed against my ribs. The chanting grew louder. Three hundred people watching.
I made my choice.
I reached up and grabbed his tie—pulled myself onto my toes.
He was too tall. I couldn't reach.
My hand slid to his shoulder, using the leverage to stretch higher. His body went rigid under my touch, every muscle tensing.
I pressed my lips to his.
---
Marcus's POV
The second-floor observation box had glass walls overlooking the entire ballroom. From here, I could see everything: the shocked guests, the frantic coordinators.
And Caleb. Standing exactly where Damon should be.
My hands curled into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.
"We have to stop this," Isabella said urgently. "Now."
"Wait," I said, my voice controlled.
"Why?"
"There are three hundred witnesses down there! Media contacts! Tomorrow morning, every pack in the region will know that Damon abandoned his bride at the altar."
She stared at me. "You can't be serious."
"I'm being practical." I gestured to the ballroom below, where phones were already out, recording everything. "Look at them, Isabella. Damon's car left the garage an hour ago. He obviously went to find that woman."
"So?"
"So right now, our options are limited." My voice stayed steady, analytical. "Option one: we storm down there, drag Elena off that stage, and confirm to everyone watching that this family is in complete chaos. The headlines will read: Vance Heir Flees Wedding, Mother Drags Bride Away in Rage."
"And option two?"
My gaze fixed on Caleb.
"We let it play out," I said calmly. "We let her finish this ceremony with Caleb."
"What are you saying?"
"Damon fled. The whole city will know. That's already a fact. But if we go down there and stop it now, we'll look both weak and chaotic."
"But if we... accept a less terrible version," I continued, "we can at least control the narrative. The blood pact is still fulfilled—just with a different groom."
Isabella's fingers gripped the windowsill edge tightly. "You're insane. What will people think of Damon when the whole city knows Caleb stole his fiancée?"
"He didn't think about the family when he left. He deserves the embarrassment! Right now I need to figure out how to explain this to my father. Do you know how much trouble he's caused me?"
Isabella fell silent. In all our years of marriage, she'd rarely seen me this angry. I prided myself on controlling my temper.
"He disappointed me too much." The admission tasted bitter. "I knew he was spoiled. But I didn't think he could be this selfish. If the family's reputation means so little to him—" I paused, letting the next words settle. "Then maybe he doesn't need to come back to this family at all."
"Marcus..." Her face paled. "What do you mean by that?"
I didn't answer. I'd said what needed to be said.
I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, watching the wreckage of her perfect party collapse around her.