n P

ll. Hundreds of Gold Coast elites whispered furiously.

and tight. She leaned over to my father, Richard Hale, franti

er face, pretending to cry, but the corners of

telephoto lenses aimed at the altar. They looked h

ining the cathedral walls went pitch black

scrolling gold letters that read Preston & Wren were gon

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

d the screens and let out a

en. All the blood drained from her face. She blinke

tared at it, his board members were spamming him, demanding t

ack with a groan. The blinding backlight framed the two o

nt thunderstorm. The shutter clic

thedral stopped breathing. A dead, ho

It was Rhett Kincaid. The most feared captain in the

perfectly. His presence was so suffocatingly powerful that

. There was no grief in my eyes. I looke

her high heels, and she nearly collapsed into

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

le to stop us. Richard grabbed her wrist and yan

sweating profusely. His hands shook

ett in terror, clearly unsu

st a freezing glare

, though it cracked. "Do you, Rhett Kincaid, t

assume Rhett was just standing in to s

hedral. "I do. I take you, Wren, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for

media section lost their minds. T

And do you, Wren Hale, take Rhett Kinc

my voice clear a

elvet box. Rhett pulled out a ring. It was a ma

g, the ultimate symbol of the Vance f

through the thin tulle of my veil, he pressed his lip