Before he could answer, a woman across the room called his name. Julian glanced nervously toward the hallway. “I genuinely thought he had perished in that crash,” he whispered quickly. “I didn’t find out the truth until two weeks after the accident.”
“Two weeks?” My head spun. “Then why keep it a secret?”
“Because the remains identified at the scene weren’t Adrian,” Julian murmured, casting his eyes downward. “My mother suspected it… but she was terrified of what would happen if Adrian ever returned from the shadows.”
Before I could demand a clearer explanation, the ceremony music shifted. The traditional wedding march began to echo through the hall.
Part 2: The Face at the Altar
The double doors swung wide open. There he stood.
Adrian—walking arm-in-arm with his mother. He looked composed, healthy, and entirely at ease. The room erupted into thunderous applause.
I stood paralyzed behind a tall arrangement of white roses. As Adrian swept his gaze across the venue, his eyes locked onto mine. For one brief second, his smile faltered.
Then he did something that made my blood run cold: he deliberately looked away, as if I were a complete stranger.
