A husky masculine voice came through. “Still awake this late? Are you too excited to sleep because you’re marrying me tomorrow?”
Hearing the teasing in his voice, Xanthe’s anxiety eased a little.
“Trevor, have you seen the rumors online?”
“I have.”
Her palms began to sweat. “Do you… have anything you want to ask me? Or any second thoughts?”
There was a long silence on the other end before he finally said, “I do.”
Those two words made Xanthe’s heart sink. She’d expected this. Of course he’d care–what man wouldn’t?
“If you’ve changed your mind about the wedding, you can tell me. I won’t blame you. I understand if-”
But Trevor cut her off. “Hey, what nonsense are you talking about? A tiny hiccup like this and you’re ready to run? Giving up on me again?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “I–I never said I was giving up. I just thought… you might
care.”
“Care? You were nearly destroyed by Barrington and everything he did to you. I’m still hurting for you–why would I care about that kind of thing?
“Xanthe, you came into my life and stirred everything up. Now that you have, don’t think about running away again, okay?
“The wedding’s happening tomorrow, exactly as planned. If you dare try to run, I swear I’ll drag you there myself.”
His words were overbearing, even threatening–but they gave her a strange sense of
comfort.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. Tomorrow, I’ll be the most beautiful bride in all of Chicago.”
With his words lingering in her mind, sleep soon overtook her. Trevor didn’t hang up either until he heard her breathing even out and knew she was asleep.
After ending the call, he talked to his secretary.
“President Michelson, we’ve already scrubbed everything online. Our team is monitoring the situation closely. Not a single negative comment about Ms. Wentworths will get through.”
Trevor took a sharp drag from his cigarette. “What about Barrington? Have you located
him?”
The secretary lowered his head in shame. “We looked into it right away, sir, but he slipped
Sat, 12
63%
away. He’s back in Springfield.”
Trevor narrowed his eyes, a cold smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Springfield? That’s not like him. Keep your eyes on the wedding tomorrow. If he dares show up–take him down. No holding back.”
The secretary visibly shuddered. His boss was known for being composed; this kind of deadly intent was rare.
The next day, the wedding proceeded as planned.
The ceremony was held by the sea, arranged jointly by the Wentworths and Michelsons. Trevor had rented out the entire coastline, remembering that Xanthe had loved the ocean
since she was a child.
As the guests arrived dressed to the nines, parents from both families greeted them warmly.
Meanwhile, Trevor stood in the golden sunlight, his white tux almost glowing.
“Sir,” the secretary came over with an update, “we’ve swept the area. No sign of Mr. Connolly.”
Trevor gave a slight nod. “Good. Let’s begin.”
With all guests present, the wedding march began.
Trevor stood at the center of the stage, a bouquet of flowers in hand, waiting for his bride.
Soon, Xanthe appeared in a dazzling white gown, the lights catching on every detail, illuminating her like a dream.
Her father held her arm as they walked forward, step by step, toward Trevor.
The closer she got, the brighter her smile became–pure happiness radiated from her.
But just as she neared the stage, chaos struck.
Out of nowhere, Vionnet burst through the crowd, shoving Holden aside. She held a knife, pressing it to Xanthe’s neck.
The blade sliced skin in an instant, the bride’s blood soaking into the pristine wedding
gown.
“You psycho! Even if you kill me, you won’t get away with this!”
Xanthe had braced herself for Barrington to pull something–but she’d never imagined
Vionnet would be the one to show up.
Vionnet laughed, the sound chilling. “You already ruined my life. If I can’t live happily, then we’ll die together!”
The scene erupted into chaos; guests screamed and backed away, too afraid to intervene. Meanwhile, Trevor approached slowly, his voice cold and deliberate. “Vionnet, let her go. Whatever you want, I can give it to you.”
But the uninvited guest just let out a deranged laugh. “What is it about you, Xanthe? Why do all the men fall for you? Tell me! If you were gone, would they finally choose me instead?”
As she spoke, she pressed the knife even closer to Xanthe’s throat.
Xanthe dared not move, not even to speak, terrified it would hit an artery. “What the hell do you want, Vionnet?!”
