The guests’ murmurs grew louder. “A wedding for three? Has the Summers family lost its mind?” whispered one woman. Another man muttered, “The bride must be desperate to allow this. What a disgrace.”
I stepped forward gracefully, every inch the composed heiress. “It is a festive day,” I said, my voice light, masking the razor-sharp edge beneath. “The more, the merrier. Let us celebrate, shall we?”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, caught between pride and disbelief. His control over the moment wavered for the first time. He had expected compliance, not the calm amusement I displayed.
The music began, soft at first, swelling as the emcee cleared his throat. “Mr. Daniel Wright, are you willing to marry Ms. Catherine Summers? To honor her, protect her, and remain true through life and hardship?”
“I do,” Daniel replied with his customary gentle voice—but then, in an astonishing twist, he lifted Rachel’s hand instead. The diamond ring slid onto her finger, sparkling in the sunlight that poured through the hall. The crowd gasped.