Chapter 7 - THE WALK DOWN THE AISLE
The morning sun beat down mercilessly on the immaculate stone terrace of Larks Hill Estate, where two hundred elite guests stood waiting under canopies of white roses. When the string quartet struck up the bridal march, the heavy double doors swung open, and I stepped out into the sunlight wearing the red-and-white striped clown costume, a matching conical hat, and sparkling white heels.
A collective gasp rippled through the front rows, followed immediately by muffled snickers and outright laughter from guests holding up their smartphones to capture the spectacle. Vivian Sterling sat in the front row, glowing with triumphant malice, while Holt turned deathly pale at the altar. Walking down the aisle with my father’s arm linked securely through mine, I kept my chin held high, knowing the punchline was entirely on them.
