Chapter 2 - The Aftermath in the FoyerThe grand brass-and-oak doors of the cathedral slammed shut behind us, cutting off the chaotic roar of two hundred stunned guests.
The cool, air-conditioned quiet of the church foyer enveloped us. I stood there on the polished marble floor, my hand still resting on Sebastian’s arm, my breath coming in short, ragged hitches. Now that the adrenaline spike was beginning to drop, my knees felt weak, like water.
Sebastian immediately sensed it. He didn't hesitate; he wrapped a strong arm around my waist, taking most of my weight, and guided me gently to a velvet bench set into an alcove.
"Deep breaths, Victoria," he said softly, kneeling in front of me so that his eyes were level with mine. He motioned to one of his guards. "Marcus, get a bottle of water from the car. Now."
"Yes, Mr. Sterling," the guard replied, rushing out the front doors.
I stared down at my left hand. The heavy platinum signet ring gleamed under the foyer chandelier. It looked absurdly large against my slender finger, yet it felt like an impenetrable shield.
"I just married you," I whispered, the words sounding surreal as they left my lips. "I don't even know your middle name."
A rare, warm smile touched Sebastian’s sharp lips. "It’s Arthur. And yours is Elizabeth. I know you prefer black coffee over tea, you work eighty hours a week as a senior architect at Miller & Associates, and you spent three months designing a community shelter in Queens for free because your firm refused to fund it."
I blinked, astonished. "How do you know that?"
"I make it a point to study things that interest me," Sebastian replied quietly, his gray eyes holding mine with unyielding sincerity. "When I met you at the museum fundraiser eight months ago, I didn't just see a beautiful woman. I saw someone brilliant, selfless, and entirely unappreciated by the man standing beside her."
Before I could answer, the double doors of the sanctuary burst open with a loud BANG.
My mother rushed out first, her face flushed red, her designer silk dress swishing frantically. Behind her was my father, looking exhausted and thoroughly defeated, followed closely by Ryan and Danielle.
"Victoria Elizabeth Mendez!" my mother shrieked, her voice echoing off the high marble ceiling. "Have you completely lost your mind?! What was that?! What did you just do?!"
Sebastian stood up smoothly, placing himself between my family and me. His height and broad shoulders completely shielded me from their aggressive advance.
"Mrs. Mendez," Sebastian said, his voice dropping into that quiet, terrifying tone of absolute authority that billionaire CEOs use to crush hostile takeovers. "You will lower your voice when addressing my wife."
The word—my wife—hung in the air like a thunderclap.
My mother stopped in her tracks, blinking as if she had just been slapped. "Your... your wife? This isn't a real marriage! This is a farce! It's an illegal, spiteful stunt!"
"I assure you, the marriage license sitting in the clerk's office is entirely legal," Sebastian said calmly. "And if you attempt to harass Victoria further on what is meant to be a celebratory day, I will have my security team escort you off the premises."
Ryan stepped around my mother, his eyes wild, his tie pulled loose. "Victoria, please! Look at me! I know I made a mistake—I know what Danielle and I did was horrible—but this is crazy! You don't know this man! He's using you to make a scene!"
I stood up from the bench, stepping out from behind Sebastian. I looked Ryan up and down. For four years, I had thought this man was my soulmate. I had managed his calendar, cooked his meals when he worked late, forgiven his forgotten anniversaries, and smoothed over his endless excuses.
"Using me?" I laughed, a bitter, breathless sound. "Ryan, you slept with my sister for eight months. You let her buy a dress identical to mine. You walked into my wedding ceremony planning to publicize my humiliation on social media so you two could play the tragic lovers. You don't get to lecture anyone about being used."
Danielle stepped forward, clutching Ryan’s arm, tears streaming down her carefully painted face, ruining her mascara. "Vicki... I'm your sister! How could you do this to me? You ruined my moment!"
I stared at her, genuinely astounded by the sheer depth of her narcissism.
"Your moment?" I asked quietly. "Danielle, this was my wedding. You stole my dress, my groom, and eight months of my life. And you stand there accusing me of ruining your moment?"
"You're making a huge mistake, Victoria," my father finally spoke up, his voice heavy with disapproval. "Family problems should be handled behind closed doors. You've brought shame on this entire family today by pulling this stunt with a stranger."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I looked at my father—the man who had spent my entire childhood telling me to let Danielle have the bigger bedroom, to let Danielle have the better car, to forgive Danielle whenever she broke my things because 'she’s younger, Victoria, be the bigger person.'
"No, Dad," I said, my voice ice-cold. "I didn't bring shame on this family. Danielle and Ryan did. And you allowed it by choosing to protect her feelings over my dignity. Today, I am officially done being the bigger person."
I turned my back on them.
"Sebastian," I said softly, looking up at my new husband. "The car?"
Sebastian offered his arm. "Waiting at the curb, Victoria."
May you like
As we walked out into the bright Manhattan sunshine, leaving my shouting family behind in the church foyer, Marcus held open the door of a sleek, black Maybach.
I stepped inside, the plush leather wrapping around me like a fortress. Sebastian slid in beside me, the heavy door closing with a satisfying, airtight thud, cutting off the noise of the city, the scandal, and the past.
