Chapter 3: The Groom’s Intuition
Outside, the wedding guests were murmuring. Julian, the groom, paced the hallway outside the bridal suite. He had been told by his mother that Elena was having a "bout of nerves" and needed privacy. But Julian knew Elena. She was the calmest, most organized person he had ever met.
"Something is wrong," Julian said, turning to his head of security. "She wouldn't just disappear an hour before the ceremony."
Beatrice glided up to him, a glass of champagne in her hand. "Julian, darling, don't be dramatic. She’s just overwhelmed. You know how these girls from humble backgrounds get when faced with the Sterling legacy."
Julian looked at his mother. He had always respected her, but lately, he had felt a dissonance—a coldness he couldn't explain. He looked at the door to the bridal suite. "I’m going in."
"You can't! It's bad luck, and she's not decent," Beatrice snapped, her composure slipping for a fraction of a second.
"I don't care about luck," Julian said, his voice hard. "I care about my wife."
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As he moved toward the door, his phone buzzed. It was an urgent alert from his legal team—a firm that handled all his private affairs, independent of his mother’s influence. “Julian, check your secure email immediately. We have a situation that involves your mother.”
Julian stopped. He didn't check the email. He looked at his mother, whose face was rapidly losing its color.
