Chapter 3 - The Arrival in NapaThe Napa Valley sun beat down golden and warm across the private vineyards of the St. Helena Estate. Three hundred high-society guests moved through the manicured lawns, sipping vintage champagne beneath white silk canopies.
At the front of the rose-covered altar stood Michael Reed, looking sleek in a navy blue tuxedo, adjusting his watch nervously. Beside him stood my mother, wearing a pastel lace dress, whispering excitedly to Chloe’s bridesmaids.
"Where is she?" my mother muttered, looking at her gold watch. "Valerie promised she wouldn't make a scene. If she skips the ceremony, people will think she's holding a grudge!"
"Don't worry, Mom," Michael smirked, taking a sip of his wine. "Valerie is probably too embarrassed to show up. After what I said to her, she knows she doesn't belong in a room like this."
Suddenly, the deep, thunderous roar of a twin-turbo V8 engine echoed down the long gravel driveway.
A sleek, midnight-black Maybach pulled up directly to the red carpet entrance. Every conversation on the lawn died instantly. Guests turned, lowering their glasses, whispering in curiosity.
The driver stepped out, opening the rear door.
First out stepped Gabriel Sterling.
A collective, audible gasp swept across the crowd. Several prominent corporate investors near the front row stood up straight, their faces paling in shock.
"Is that... Gabriel Sterling?!" a wealthy developer gasped. "What is he doing here?!"
Gabriel didn't acknowledge the crowd. He turned back to the car, extending his hand into the interior with exquisite, deliberate chivalry.
My hand met his. I stepped out of the Maybach.
The obsidian-black silk gown draped flawlessly over my figure, catching the golden sunlight. My dark hair fell in luxurious waves over one shoulder, and diamond drop earrings sparkled beside my jaw. I held my head high, my posture erect, carrying myself with an effortless, breathtaking grace.
Gabriel took my hand, resting it gently against his arm, leaning in close to whisper in my ear.
"Keep your eyes on me, Valerie," Gabriel murmured softly. "You own this entire room."
As we walked down the stone path toward the altar, Michael’s wineglass slipped from his fingers, shattering loudly against the stone floor.
His mouth hung wide open. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, locked onto me in absolute, horrifying shock.
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Beside him, my mother’s jaw dropped, her face draining of all color.
I smiled—a calm, radiant, victorious smile—and took my seat in the front row, right beside the stunned groom.
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