Chapter 3 - The Mask Slips
Arthur turned the brass knob and pulled the study door open.
Victoria stood in the corridor, bathed in the warm amber light of the crystal sconces. In her sheer lace Galia Lahav gown, embroidered with thousands of micro-pearls, she looked like an ethereal vision of bridal innocence. Her blonde hair was swept up into an intricate chignon, framed by a cathedral-length veil. Around her neck hung the multi-million-dollar heirloom diamond necklace Arthur had gifted her only yesterday.
"Arthur," she breathed, her lips curving into a radiant, practiced smile. "There you are. You look pale, my love. Is it the dizzy spells again? Did you take your vitamins?"
Arthur looked at her eyes. For the first time in eighteen months, he did not see warmth, elegance, or devotion. He saw the cold, predatory calculation of a shark circling wounded prey.
"I’m fine, Victoria," Arthur said evenly. His voice was completely steady, carrying the chilling authority that had once terrified boardroom rivals across three continents. "Noah had something urgent to show me."
Victoria’s gaze flicked down toward the boy hiding behind Arthur’s legs. For a fraction of a second, her jaw hardened, and a flash of pure hatred burned in her eyes before being swallowed behind her angelic smile.
"Oh, did he?" She laughed, a musical sound that rang utterly hollow. "Sweet Noah. He’s just nervous about the ceremony. We should let Julian take him upstairs to play with his tablets so the adults can proceed."
"No," Arthur replied calmly. "Noah stays with me. In fact, Noah will stand right beside me at the altar."
Victoria blinked, her smile faltering at the edges. "Darling, that wasn't in the program. The society photographers are here. The governor is in the third row. Protocol—"
"Since when did protocol supersede family, Victoria?" Arthur stepped forward, his towering six-foot-two frame casting a long shadow over her delicate silhouette. He reached out and lightly touched the heirloom necklace against her collarbone. She stiffened under his touch. "You’ve always told me how much you value family unity. Surely my grandson's presence won't spoil your grand entrance."
Her throat swallowed visibly. Her eyes darted down the hallway toward the double doors of the conservatory, where the organist was beginning the opening chords of the bridal march.
May you like
"Of course not, Arthur," she whispered, her voice tightening with subtle irritation. "Whatever makes you happy. Let’s go make this official."
"Yes," Arthur agreed, his gaze boring into her soul. "Let's make everything very official."
