Father Of Bride Part 2 Novels & Stories

everyone replied, raising their flutes of champagne and drinking from it. "It is now time; the moment has arrived for the Father and Daughter dance. Please join me in welcoming the bride and her father to the dance floor." The guests cheered as Dad walked up to me. "Let us dance, my sweet." he said as he stretched his hand to me. I dropped my champagne flute, took his hand and walked with him to the dance floor as Camilla Cabello's 'First Man' plays from the speakers. I placed my head on Dad's chest as he maneuvered us across the dance floor while the guests watched.

The second son of Jeffri and Isabella was so handsome, handsome with the black tuxedo he wore and the tie. Meanwhile, in the empty private room belonging to the Duttlof family, there were already four people in there. One people are make-up artists, one person is a bridal gown stylist, while the other two are Father and Daughter who is currently chatting for a while as a form of separation, yeah ... Separation, because after she officially becomes a wife she will leave the house her parents and followed her husband.

Her family sat beside his smiling with all teeth; it looked forced to Mike but he doesn't care, as long as they bring out his bride. The moment Mike heard the clicking of heels, his head turned towards the stairs he had heard it from. His eyes fixed on that spot, not wanting to miss anything. Wasn't the father of the bride supposed to be the one to bring her out? But her father was sitting beside her stepmother with a forced smile. Mike shrugged. Maybe, they couldn't care about it because there was no one to impress here. It was just their family.

I say feeling a little bit relieved. "Ryder isn't your father, Chase is your biological father and he's dead " he throws the bomb. I don't want to believe him but then I've always have this doubt in my mind that Dad 'Ryder ' is not my father. Tears began to fall. No this is too much to take. My father of which I don't know betrothed me to someone and he's dead. Now the person wants me to marry him. I don't plan on getting married at 19 and I don't think there is any I can do to change that.

she sneered, turning to Vanessa and offering her a reassuring smile. Ashley sat there on the ground, feeling the sting of Beatrice words cut through her like a knife. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, Instead, she sat there like an outcast, unwanted in her own husband’s home… in the house she had once tried so hard to belong to. “Are you sure about this son?” Victor’s calm voice broke through the tension as his eyes fell on the divorce papers lying on the ground. He was Caleb’s father, a business man with years of experience in the family business. “Are you sure you really want to end this marriage?”

“I’m your father. You’re coming home with me!” “Shawn!” I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “You’re scaring her! Give her back to me—” “That’s enough!” he cut me off. His voice was filled with disgust. “Tiana, five years ago, you abandoned me over a wedding dress, and now, you’re bringing a child here to ruin my life again?” A wave of murmurs rose around us. “Oh my God, this woman has no shame…” "She brought a kid to pester her ex-boyfriend?”

I start walking back toward the resort, thighs sticky, mind racing. That’s when I hear it. Two male voices coming from the other side of the thick foliage, low and urgent. “…the father wants the merger sealed before the reception. The bride doesn’t know the full extent yet.” My blood freezes. The groom’s father. I inch closer, heart pounding. The second voice — deeper, colder — replies, “She won’t find out until it’s too late. As long as the bridal party stays occupied and compliant, everything stays on track. Especially that pretty little assistant of yours. She’s the perfect leverage.”

Cecilia felt her cheeks grow warm, her heartbeat quickening of its own accord. She nodded softly, her gaze shyly avoiding his intense stare as she gracefully stood and linked her arm with his solid one. "Let's go, my dear groom," she replied softly, her voice brimming with unconcealed happiness. *** Outside in the manor's parking lot, the bride's father, Edward Martin, had just stepped out of his car. Surveying the throng of reporters, his inner vanity swelled. His eyes burned, the corners of his mouth lifting in an irrepressible smirk.

Her face partially hidden, but her eyes downward. The caption read: The bride who vanished. My chest tightened. They showed her records. Her father’s name, a man who sold government secrets. A political exile, a traitor, a thief and a disgrace. “She may not have pulled the trigger,” our stepmother said venomously. “But that blood runs in her veins.” “She fooled all of us,” someone from logistics said. “I mean, she had us all charmed. Like a goddamn actress.” “She was raised by a martyr,” another muttered. “But you can’t outrun your DNA.”

Guests filled the pews, dressed in silks and diamonds, murmuring praises, trading business cards, congratulating themselves more than the bride and groom. Damien stood at the altar, a flawless picture in a black tuxedo, his expression unreadable. As I walked down the aisle, arm in arm with my father, I kept my face frozen, my steps measured. Each click of my heel echoed like a death toll. My father’s grip was iron around my arm, his chin high, proud. We were closing a deal, a multi-billion-dollar union. A future shaped in boardrooms and sealed with my signature on a marriage certificate.