Part 5: The Grand Cathedral
The gothic limestone facade of St. Jude Cathedral loomed grandly against the grey afternoon sky, framed by sleek luxury sedans and swarms of paparazzi snapping photographs of arriving VIP guests.
As our black limousine glided smoothly toward the front entrance, heads turned to watch the sleek vehicle pull up right behind the bridal party's escort cars.
The flashbulbs flared furiously, capturing the arrival of elite society members eager to witness the social event of the season.
Miller stepped out of the front seat, quickly opening my door and offering a steady hand to help me exit.
I stepped onto the polished stone pavement, adjusting my emerald-green coat and ensuring Grace was cradled safely against my chest.
The moment the cameras caught sight of me standing outside the cathedral doors with a newborn baby strapped to my chest, a sudden hush fell over the chaotic crowd of reporters.
Flashbulbs popped with blinding intensity, capturing every detail of my calm, composed expression.
“Is that Eleanor Vance?” a reporter shouted from behind the velvet rope.
“Why is she here? Where is Dominic’s wife?”
I ignored the flurry of shouted questions, walking past the bewildered security guards with measured, deliberate steps.
The heavy oak doors of the cathedral stood wide open, welcoming guests into the soaring, incense-scented nave.
Inside, the sanctuary was breathtaking.
Thousands of white roses and cascading orchids lined the aisle, while classical organ music echoed softly against the vaulted stained-glass windows.
Elite guests sat in hushed reverence, dressed in high-fashion designer gowns and bespoke tuxedos.
Brooke’s wealthy parents sat proudly in the front-row pew on the right, beaming with absolute satisfaction as they awaited the start of the ceremony.
I walked slowly down the center aisle, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Every eye in the sanctuary gradually shifted away from the altar and locked onto me.
Whispers rippled through the pews like rolling thunder.
“Isn’t that his ex-wife?”
“Why does she have a baby?”
“Where is the bride?”
I didn’t stop until I reached the third row, slipping into an empty seat with effortless grace.
Grace remained fast asleep, completely undisturbed by the overwhelming acoustics of the cathedral.
At the front of the altar, standing beside the priest in a sharp, custom-tailored tuxedo, Dominic Vance turned around to see what was causing the sudden commotion among the congregation.
When his eyes locked onto mine across the sea of white roses, the blood instantly drained from his face.
His confident smile vanished entirely.
His jaw went slack, and he took an involuntary half-step backward, gripping the edge of the altar rail to keep his balance.
He stared at me as if he were looking at a ghost stepping straight out of a nightmare.
Behind him, Olivia sat in the family pew, her eyes narrowing into venomous slits as she recognized me and the baby resting against my chest.
She began whispering frantically to her husband, her face flushing with furious indignation.
Dominic looked ready to bolt down the altar and throw me out himself, but the heavy oak doors at the back of the cathedral swung open with a resounding thud.
The organ music swelled into the traditional wedding march.
Brooke appeared at the entrance, radiant in a custom French lace gown, holding a bouquet of white lilies with a triumphant smile plastered across her face.
She began walking down the aisle, completely unaware that the entire room had just witnessed her groom turn the color of ash.
As Brooke drew closer to the altar, Dominic stood frozen like a statue, his eyes darting frantically between me and his approaching bride.
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I placed my hand gently over the leather portfolio resting on my lap, feeling the heavy sealed envelope inside.
The trap was fully sprung, the doors were locked, and there was nowhere left for them to run.
