Chapter 6 - The Secret Wedding Rehearsal
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At 2:00 PM on Saturday, the Grand Cathedral of St. Patrick in downtown Indianapolis was cordoned off by private security barriers.
Over six hundred elite guests—Hollywood producers, Grammy-winning recording artists, governors, and international media executives—filled the vaulted stone nave. Outside on the streets, over ten thousand fans held candlelight vigils, waving banners reading: #PrayForGenevieve and #TrueLoveHeals.
NBC and national entertainment networks had secured exclusive live-broadcast rights for what was billed as “The Triumph of Love: Christian Prescott Marries His Injured Soulmate.”
In the groom’s private dressing suite, Christian stood before the gilded mirror, adjusting his bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo.
Sabrina Sterling walked in from the adjoining lounge wearing an elegant emerald silk gown, holding four-year-old Leo by the hand. The little boy had Christian’s dark hair and blue eyes.
“Christian, darling,” Sabrina purred, wrapping her manicured arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “The networks are estimating seventy million viewers across the globe. You look like an angel.”
Christian smirked, looking down at his son with smug satisfaction. “By seven o'clock tonight, Leo is officially in our penthouse. Genevieve’s manager confirmed she arrived in a private medical transport ten minutes ago. She’s wearing the heavy gold veil. She can barely walk without assistance.”
“Did she make any trouble?” Sabrina asked, touching her diamond necklace.
“She’s broken, Sabrina,” Christian scoffed, pouring himself a flute of champagne. “She thinks I am the only man on earth who would still look at her. She’ll sign the post-nuptial asset consolidation before we leave for the reception.”
The cathedral organ began to play the opening chords of the bridal processional—a magnificent, haunting orchestral arrangement of the very symphony I had composed for our anniversary two years earlier.
Christian drained his glass, set it on the marble console, and adjusted his cuffs.
“Time to give America what they paid for,” Christian grinned.
May you like
He walked out toward the altar, placing his right hand over his heart, bowing his head with practiced, mournful humility as the audience rose to their feet in emotional applause.
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