Chapter 42: The Eve of the Wedding

 

October 11th. The day before the wedding.

The Grand Cathedral in the city center was closed to the public. Inside, the air smelled of thousands of white roses.

"Okay, music cue!" The wedding planner shouted.

The organ began to play the Wedding March. At the end of the long, red carpet, stood Sebastian Sterling.

He was wearing a casual suit today, but his expression was more serious than any board meeting. He stood next to his best man, Liam. There was no wheelchair. No cane. No crutches.

He stood on his own two feet. His legs trembled slightly—a microscopic tremor that only he could feel. Sweat trickled down his back. The pain was there, a dull ache in his nerves, but he ignored it.

He looked down the aisle. It was 50 meters long. To a normal person, it was a minute's walk. To him, it was a marathon.

"Bro," Liam whispered. "You okay? Do you need the cane just for the rehearsal?"

"No," Sebastian said through gritted teeth. "Burn the cane."

He took a step. Then another. He imagined Harper walking toward him tomorrow. In her white dress. Smiling at him. That image gave him infinite strength.

He walked the full length of the altar. He turned around. He stood tall.

"Perfect!" The planner clapped. "Mr. Sterling, you look like a Greek god! The press is going to go crazy!"

Sebastian let out a breath, leaning heavily on the altar table for a second when no one was looking. He did it. He was ready.

---

[The Separation]

According to tradition, the bride and groom could not see each other the night before the wedding. So, Harper was staying at the Vance Estate—her biological father's home.

It was a massive, gothic-style mansion on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Richard Vance had prepared the "Princess Suite" for her. It was filled with gifts, jewelry, and the wedding dress—a custom Vera Wang gown that cost more than a Ferrari.

"You look beautiful," Mrs. Evans (her mom) wiped a tear, brushing Harper’s hair. "My little girl is getting married."

"Thanks, Mom," Harper hugged her.

Richard Vance knocked on the door. "Ladies, it's late. The bride needs her beauty sleep. Tomorrow is a big day."

He kissed Harper’s forehead. "Goodnight, daughter. I have guards outside your door. You are safe here."

"Goodnight, Dad. Goodnight, Richard," Harper smiled.

The room went quiet. Harper lay in the massive four-poster bed. She couldn't sleep. She picked up her phone.

[My King]: Are you asleep? [Happy Puppy]: No. Too excited. Are your legs okay? [My King]: They are fine. They are ready to run to you. [Happy Puppy]: Don't run. Just stand there and look handsome. [My King]: I love you, Harper. See you at the altar. 10:00 AM sharp.

Harper kissed the screen. "See you at 10 AM." She put the phone down and closed her eyes, drifting into a sweet dream.

---

[The Shadow]

3:00 AM. The Vance Estate was silent. The guards were patrolling the perimeter. But they missed one thing. The secret tunnel.

Built during the Prohibition era, the tunnel led from the sea cliffs directly into the wine cellar. Only the Vance family elders knew about it. And Isabella Vance.

Isabella emerged from the wine cellar, covered in dust and spiderwebs. Her eyes were manic, bloodshot. Behind her was a man—the "Old Friend" of Shen Yuanfeng. A mercenary named Kruger.

"This way," Isabella whispered. "I grew up in this house. I know every creaky floorboard."

They moved like ghosts through the servants' corridors. They bypassed the guards outside Harper’s suite by using the connecting door from the nursery—a door that had been wallpapered over years ago, but Isabella knew the latch was still there.

Click. The hidden door in Harper’s wall slid open silently.

Isabella stepped into the room. She saw Harper sleeping peacefully in the moonlight. She saw the wedding dress hanging on the mannequin—shimmering like a ghost.

Isabella walked over to the dress. She pulled out a knife. She wanted to slash it. To destroy it.

"Not yet," Kruger whispered, grabbing her wrist. "We need her alive. The dress is good bait."

Isabella glared at him, then put the knife away. She pulled out a syringe instead.

She walked to the bed. She looked down at Harper’s face. The face that stole her father, her inheritance, and her man.

"Sweet dreams, sister," Isabella hissed.

She plunged the syringe into Harper’s neck.

Harper’s eyes flew open. She tried to scream. But Isabella’s hand clamped over her mouth. The drug worked instantly. Harper’s struggles weakened. Her eyelids drooped. The world went black.

"Grab her," Isabella ordered. "And leave the note."

---

[The Morning]

October 12th. The Wedding Day.

The sun rose over the city. The Cathedral was buzzing. Thousands of fans and reporters lined the streets. Helicopters circled overhead. Guests were arriving—celebrities, politicians, business tycoons.

Sebastian stood at the altar. He looked magnificent. His suit was sharp, his posture perfect. He checked his watch. 9:30 AM. Harper should be arriving any minute.

Liam walked over, looking nervous. "Bro."

"Is she here?" Sebastian smiled.

"No," Liam swallowed. "The limo... it arrived empty."

Sebastian frowned. "What do you mean empty?"

"The driver said... when he went to pick her up at the Vance Estate... she wasn't in her room."

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat. "Call Richard."

"I did. Richard is freaking out. He said the guards were at the door all night. But the room is empty."

Sebastian gripped the altar railing. The pain in his legs flared up, but he ignored it. "Is it cold feet? Did she run?"

"No," Liam handed him a piece of paper. "They found this pinned to the wedding dress."

Sebastian took the note. It was written on expensive Vance stationery. But the handwriting was jagged and manic.

[ Do you want your bride? ] [ She is waiting for you. ] [ Come alone to the Old Port, Warehouse 4. ] [ If you bring the police, or if you don't come in 30 minutes... ] [ The wedding turns into a funeral. ]

[ P.S. Don't forget your wheelchair. You'll need it. ]

The paper crumpled in Sebastian’s hand. The church music was still playing. The guests were still smiling, waiting for the bride. But Sebastian’s world had just turned into hell.

He looked at Liam. His eyes were no longer the eyes of a groom. They were the eyes of a killer.

"Cancel the wedding," Sebastian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Tell the guests to go home."

"Bro, where are you going?"

Sebastian turned and walked down the aisle—not toward a happy future, but toward a war. "I'm going to get my wife."