Chapter 4: The Waiting Threshold
The service stairwell was dim, smelling faintly of polished wood and old stone. I led Lily down the first landing to a small, private alcove housing the estate manager's empty office. Unlocking the heavy oak door with the master key I kept from my pre-wedding walkthroughs, I gently nudged her inside.
"Stay here, Lily. Sit on the sofa and don't open the door for anyone—not Clara, not the photographer, not even the wedding coordinator. Only me. Do you understand?"
She nodded solemnly, clutching the edge of her white lace dress. "Are you going to let her have everything?"
I crouched down, resting my hands on her small shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. "Nobody is taking anything. Stay right here. I'll be back for you the moment this is over."
I locked the door from the outside, pocketing the key, and straightened my posture. The transition from protector back to groom required a chilling act of will. I walked back down the carpeted corridor, my breathing controlled, every micro-expression wiped clean of anger.
When I reached the foyer outside the grand ballroom, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The air was thick with the scent of white orchids, expensive perfume, and nervous anticipation. A wall of mirrors reflected the glittering crystal sconces and the towering floral arrangements that cost more than a small car.
Eleanor stood near the threshold, her back to me. In her elaborate white wedding dress, she looked like a vision straight out of a glossy magazine spread. The silk tulle of her gown cascaded across the marble like sea foam, and her long blonde hair was pinned back beneath a hand-woven lace veil that caught the amber light.
As I approached, she turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over me with a critical eye. A faint, polished smile touched her lips, but her blue eyes remained calculating and entirely devoid of warmth.
"There you are," Eleanor said, her voice dropping into that smooth, practiced cadence she used for public consumption. "You look tense, darling. Cold feet at the last second?"
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I stopped two feet away from her, letting my hands rest naturally at my sides. The heavy paper envelope in my inner pocket pressed against my chest like a lead weight.
"Just thinking about the commitment," I said, my tone flat enough to pass for nervous anticipation. "It's a big step."
