Chapter 2: Perfect Stage

"Good day, ladies and gentlemen."

The master of ceremonies stood at the center of the grand wedding hall, his voice amplified and steady, instantly drawing everyone's attention. Crystal chandeliers glowed above, reflecting off polished marble floors and rows of elegantly arranged round tables.

"Welcome to this beautiful celebration," the MC continued with a practiced smile. "Today, we gather to witness the union of two people deeply in love—a moment destined to mark the beginning of a lifelong journey together."

A gentle wave of applause rippled through the hall.

"Our groom today is Mr. Julian Moreau, the sole heir of the esteemed Moreau family. And our bride—Miss Seraphina Valeza, a woman of grace, talent, and elegance."

The guests murmured appreciatively.

The wedding was nothing short of extravagant.

Business giants from Lunada City filled the hall. Families from third-rate and second-rate circles attended in large numbers, eager to strengthen connections. A few representatives from first-rate families were also present—not out of obligation, but purely for entertainment, observing the event as if it were a carefully staged performance.

The seating arrangement revealed the invisible hierarchy clearly.

At the front sat the first-rate families, their expressions indifferent yet sharp. The middle section belonged to the second-rate elites, chatting quietly while measuring gains and losses. At the far end were the third-rate families, dressed just as luxuriously but carrying ambition in every glance.

Julian's friends arrived soon after—young heirs with carefree smiles and expensive watches. They surrounded him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, Julian," one of them laughed. "You really won the jackpot this time."

"Such a beauty," another added jokingly. "You better treat her well."

Julian accepted their praise with a modest smile, confidence written clearly on his face.

Nearby, relatives of the Hawthorne family gathered around Edmund and Margaret Hawthorne.

"Chairman Hawthorne," one said eagerly, "don't forget us once the Hawthornes rise again."

"Exactly," another chimed in. "With the Moreau family backing you, the future is bright."

Edmund and Margaret smiled politely, nodding as if everything was already within their grasp.

Seraphina stood quietly to the side.

She wore a flawless smile, calm and composed. Guests passed by her, some offering polite congratulations, others casting glances filled with envy—or something harder to define. No one lingered long.

And she did not mind.

Because while the world saw a beautiful bride waiting for her fate, Seraphina's mind was already moving several steps ahead.

'Everything is in place,' she thought calmly.

'Now… it's my turn.'

The MC spoke again. "Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The ceremony is about to begin."

Soft music filled the hall.

"Please welcome the bride."

The doors slowly opened.

Seraphina stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on Edmund Hawthorne's arm. He walked beside her with a wide, satisfied smile, his steps confident as if leading her toward a blessing rather than a sacrifice.

Applause echoed around them.

As she walked down the aisle, Seraphina looked ahead—and then briefly to the sides.

She saw the smiles of the people she once called family.

How warm they looked.

How pleased.

Her lips curved faintly.

'So this is the face you wear when you sell someone off,' she thought coolly.

'Don't worry. I prepared a very special show for all of you today.'

She straightened her posture and continued forward, her smile flawless.

When she stopped before Julian, they exchanged gentle smiles, appearing like the perfect couple.

The MC resumed speaking, praising their compatibility, their "fated meeting," and their "deep affection" for one another. Then his tone shifted.

"We will now proceed with the exchange of vows."

Julian stepped forward, confidence shining in his eyes. He took the ring from the velvet cushion and looked at Seraphina with what appeared to be sincere warmth.

"Seraphina," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "From the moment I first saw you, I was captivated by your beauty and intelligence. I never imagined that one day, I would be standing here—able to call you my wife."

He smiled tenderly.

"I promise to protect you, cherish you, and walk beside you through every joy and hardship. I will love you with all that I am."

He gently took her hand.

"Seraphina Valeza, are you willing to become my wife?"

The hall fell silent.

All eyes turned to her.

And Seraphina smiled.

Julian waited.

His smile remained gentle, patient—exactly the same expression he had worn in her past life.

Seraphina looked at him and almost laughed.

'This is it,' she thought coldly.

'The exact same words. The same tone. The same face.'

'You look so eager to love me, so eager to spend your life with me—

but all you ever wanted was to use me for your ambitions.'

Her heart turned icy.

She slowly raised her hand.

Julian's smile widened.

'Almost there,' he thought eagerly as he prepared to slip the ring onto her finger.

'Just a little more—and the entire Hawthorne family will be mine.'

He was practically laughing inside.

Then—

Seraphina pulled her hand back.

She clasped her other hand gently, her movements calm and graceful, and said softly, "I'm sorry."

The warmth drained from Julian's face.

His brows knitted together in confusion. "Seraphina… what do you mean?"

He forced an awkward smile. "Did you do something wrong? There's no need to apologize. I'll understand—"

Before he could finish, Seraphina shook her head.

"No," she said calmly. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Julian let out a quiet breath, relief washing over him.

But before another word could leave his mouth, her next sentence froze him in place.

"I didn't do anything wrong," she repeated slowly.

"…at least, not yet."

A gentle smile curved Seraphina's lips.

"I don't want to marry you."

The hall went dead silent.

It was as if lightning had struck.

Julian stood there, stunned, his mind blank.

Edmund Hawthorne's face stiffened. Margaret Hawthorne's eyes widened in disbelief. Even Caleb Hawthorne looked utterly lost, unable to process what was happening.

Ignoring them all, Seraphina turned around.

She stepped down from the stage unhurriedly, the hem of her wedding dress brushing the floor as she walked past rows of shocked guests. Murmurs spread through the hall, but she did not slow down.

She stopped in front of a table.

At that table sat a man who clearly did not belong.

His clothes were neither casual nor formal. He leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lazily on the table, as if he were simply enjoying a free meal rather than attending a high-profile wedding.

Seraphina looked straight at him.

Her voice was clear.

"You," she said.

"Will you marry me?"