Chapter 3 - The Coward at the Altar
The ceremony took place in the courtyard beneath an arch of white wisteria. From the moment Clara stepped onto the carpeted aisle, she felt the sneers of Veronica’s side of the family prickling against her skin like needles.
There were no guests on the bride’s side. Clara had deliberately kept her family’s board members and prominent friends away. She had wanted today to be pure. She had wanted to see if Adrian would stand by her side when she had nothing to offer the world except her love.
Instead, as Clara reached the altar, she saw the beads of sweat dripping from Adrian’s hairline. He wouldn't look directly into her eyes. He kept glancing nervously toward the front row, where Veronica sat with folded arms, shaking her head in open disdain.
When the minister asked for the vows, Veronica loudly cleared her throat, leaning over to Evelyn and whispering loud enough for the first three rows to hear: "Look at her shoes. Scuffed leather. She probably had to skip meals to afford those."
Snickers rippled through the pews.
Clara paused, holding Adrian’s cold, clammy hands. "Adrian," she whispered, her voice barely audible to anyone but him. "Look at me."
Adrian blinked rapidly, his jaw twitching. "Clara, please... let's just get through the vows. Mom is already upset that we didn't use her caterer. Don't make a scene."
"Is that what I'm doing? Making a scene by standing here?" Clara asked, searching his eyes for even a glimmer of the man she thought she loved. "Your mother has spent the last five hours treating me like garbage. She put me in a room next to the industrial dishwashers. And you didn't say a single word."
"She’s my mother, Clara!" Adrian hissed through clenched teeth, forcing a tight, fake smile for the photographer. "She sacrificed everything for my education. She’s introducing me to the regional director of Vance Logistics tonight. If I play my cards right, I'll be appointed Senior Vice President of the Midwest Division by Monday. That promotion will pay for our entire future. Just smile, take her insults, and let her win today. For my career."
Clara looked at him, and for the first time in six months, the romantic veil fell from her eyes.
Adrian didn't love her for who she was. Adrian was terrified of his mother, desperate for corporate prestige, and utterly devoid of a spine. Worse, he was willing to feed his wife to the wolves if it meant climbing one rung higher on the corporate ladder at Vance Global—the very company Arthur Vance had built with his bare hands.
"I see," Clara said quietly.
"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the minister asked, feeling the unnatural chill between the couple.
"I do," Adrian muttered quickly, his eyes darting back to his mother to see if she approved.
When the minister turned to Clara, she paused for five agonizing seconds. The entire courtyard went dead silent. Veronica leaned forward, an ugly smirk playing on her lips, clearly hoping Clara would break down and run.
Clara took a slow, deep breath. "I do."
She said it not because she planned to spend the rest of her life serving Adrian’s cowardice, but because the ink on the legal marriage certificate was about to unlock a clause in her father's trust—a clause that would decide the fate of everyone sitting in that courtyard.
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👉 As they walked down the aisle to a smattering of half-hearted applause, Adrian had no idea that his mother’s vanity had just walked them straight into a legal bear trap.
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