Chapter 1 - The Altar of Shame
Elena felt the cold draft against her bare skin before the whispers reached her ears. The heavy satin of her bodice had ripped completely open as she reached the middle of the aisle, exposing the crude corset beneath. Hundreds of society eyes bore into her like needles, drinking in her humiliation. Up on the altar steps, Richard, her fiancé, stood frozen. He did not step down; he offered no jacket, no comforting glance—only a thin, disgusted frown.
The snickering from the front pew cut deeper than the cold stone floor beneath her trembling slippers. Victoria, her maid of honor, wore a triumphant smirk wrapped in champagne silk. Elena clutched her torn fabric to her chest, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. She was utterly alone, reduced to a spectacle in the grandest cathedral in the city.
Then, heavy footsteps echoed through the silent vault of the church. Out from the back, cutting through the horrified crowd like a blade through silk, strode Christian Vance. Tall, lethal, and clad in tailored black, he moved with the predatory grace of a man who owned the shadows. When he reached her, his dark eyes held no mockery—only iron resolve. He unbuttoned his heavy wool coat, leaned in, and murmured, ""May I?""
Before she could answer, the warm, cedar-scented fabric enveloped her shivering frame. Christian turned his head toward the bridesmaids, his jaw set like stone.
May you like
""Who touched her dress?"" he demanded.
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by Victoria’s smile slipping into frozen dread.
