With that, he stepped away from the mic, returning to his seat without another word. The applause returned. Then Ava’s voice spoke again, clear and confident over the crowd.“And now, we’d like to invite someone very special to Regan — his brother-in-law, Christopher Montreal.”I turned my head slightly to look at my brother. He stood slowly, smoothing down the front of his jacket with practiced ease. Always calm. Always collected. He didn’t rush, didn’t fidget, didn’t overplay the moment. As he walked toward the stage, his posture was straight, but his expression was gentler than usual. There was no edge in his features. No tension. Just a quiet sort of sincerity that makes my heart ache.When he reached the microphone, he paused for a second, adjusted it slightly, then spoke.“We’ve gone from polite strangers,” he began, “to business partners… to reluctant allies. And somewhere in the middle, became family.”A few small laughs broke through the silence. He turned slightly then — tow
Ava's voice rang out again, light and full of excitement. “And that’s not all, everyone — we still have one more surprise before we go into the real heart of tonight’s celebration.”The lights dimmed once more.Soft instrumental music began to play as the screen at the front flickered to life again. Another video greetings — this time, not a tribute from me, but from the people in Regan’s life.Clips began rolling across the screen. Familiar faces appeared one by one — friends, cousins, business associates, a few childhood friends. Some were awkward in front of the camera, others overly enthusiastic. They told stories. They wished him well. They laughed at inside jokes.The crowd giggled. Some chuckled, others leaned in curiously. But beside me, I felt the weight shift. I turned slightly — and I didn’t have to guess. Regan was not enjoying it. His jaw was tense, his eyes fixed on the screen, unmoving. There was no amusement in his expression. No warmth. Only discomfort.“You planned
When I finally reached him, I stopped just in front of him — close enough to feel the tension in his body, to see the confusion and disbelief swirling in his eyes. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. I smiled again — soft this time — and extended the box in my hands.He hesitated but slowly took it.We stood there, our hands brushing just barely in the exchange. And for a second, everything around us disappeared. The lights, the stares, the whispers — all of it faded.He leaned forward just slightly, enough for our voices to be hidden under the music, and whispered, “Anastasia… what are you—”I cut him off, my voice calm, but quiet enough that only he could hear.“Happy birthday, Regan.”His brows drew together, lips still slightly parted as he tried to process my presence, the dress, the gift. Just as Regan took the box from my hands, still visibly trying to understand what was happening, Ava’s voice rang through the air again, light and full of enthusiasm.“Alright, eve
The car ride was quiet.Phoenix sat beside me, legs crossed, boots tapping softly against the carpeted floor of the limousine. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop fidgeting. My hands rested over the wrapped box on my lap — the final gift — the ribbon trembling slightly each time the car hit a bump. My heart was racing. My breathing shallow, every inhale heavy with dread I tried to swallow down.And then I saw it.The Valmont Pavilion rose ahead of us in the distance, glowing under the night sky like it belonged in another world. Golden light spilled through the grand arched windows, music thumping faintly through the thick stone walls. Laughter echoed somewhere beyond the gates. Expensive cars lined the driveway. The kind of scene meant for fairy tales.But I didn’t feel like a princess tonight. I felt like someone walking into the last battle — dressed in red, with everything left to lose. My palms started to sweat. I rubbed them discreetly against my gown, trying not to wrinkle the
Anastasia’s POV Later that evening........... The makeup was already done. Every stroke perfectly in place — the soft blush brushed across my cheeks, the subtle glow above my cheekbones, the delicate shimmer of gold on my lids. My lips, painted in the most daring red I owned, matched the undertone of the dress I hadn’t even worn yet. My hair had been pinned into a loose, romantic style hours ago. A few soft curls trailed down, resting over one shoulder, framing my face like I was a portrait — elegant, composed, untouchable. I looked like someone who belonged in the spotlight. Someone who was ready. But I wasn’t. I stood quietly in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, wrapped in a robe the color of champagne. The silk clung gently to my skin, slipping against my collarbones and arms with every shallow breath. It should have felt luxurious — warm, comforting even — but instead, it felt heavy. Too smooth. Like it wasn’t mine. I hadn’t moved in five minutes. I just stood
Sheila's POV Ava's voice came back in, bright and smooth — though I could hear the slight tremble she tried to hide. "And that," she said with a soft laugh, blinking back what had to be tears, "was just a little teaser prepared for tonight." Polite applause broke out again, though it was thinner now — like people didn’t quite know how to react. I barely had time to process the words when suddenly — The entire venue suddenly went dark. A few gasps rippled through the crowd, some laughter. The chandeliers dimmed to nothing, and the only light that remained was a single spotlight shining down on Regan. He looked up, startled, his body tensing under the sudden attention. And then — The grand double doors at the entrance swung open. A gasp — a real, collective one — swept through the room. A grand, towering cake was being wheeled in slowly, covered in golden designs and intricate sugar flowers, sparkling under the soft moving lights. It was breathtaking, regal — fit for royalty. But