Side elites whispered furiously. The buzzing

tight. She leaned over to her husband, Harold, franti

er face, pretending to cry, but the corners of

ir telephoto lenses aimed at the altar. They were h

lining the church walls went pitch black.

scrolling gold letters that read Connor & Anissa were gone

eam had swiftly draped a velvet cloth over the original piece and wheeled out a pre-prepared

d the screens and let out a

screen. All the blood drained from her face. She b

t board members were spamming him, demanding to know

nding backlight framed two tall silh

nt thunderstorm. The shutter clic

hurch stopped breathing. A dead, hor

omsman. It was Harding Snow. The phantom emperor of

perfectly. His presence was so suffocatingly powerful that

igh. There was no grief in her eyes. She lo

her high heels, and she nearly collapsed into

sts began to stand up. It wasn't out of respect for the w

sle to stop them. Harold grabbed her wrist and yan

s sweating profusely. His hands shook

ding in terror, completely u

est a freezing glare

, though it cracked. "Do you, Harding Snow, ta

d Harding was just standing in to sa

s vow is legally and personally binding, ef

media section lost their minds. T

could finish the sentence, Anissa looke

velvet box. Harding pulled out a ring. It was a

e ring-the ultimate symbol of the Snow

through the thin tulle of her veil, he pressed his li