Chapter 2 My Beloved

• Gwendolyn Ivory’s sigh was heavy with resignation. "Cece, my daughter, I have failed you. I know Connor is vile, yet Philip holds sway over the Faradays. Our lineage remains intact, though barely."
• Gwendolyn's heart ached at the thought of her daughter being bartered away to those wretched Faraday men. But what power did she wield?
• "Why must this be my fate?" Cecilia's voice trembled as she shook her head. The prospect of marrying Connor seemed like a fate worse than death.
• "Harold, are you truly so inert? Can you not devise a way to save your daughter?" Gwendolyn’s gaze was sharp with desperation. "You are Philip’s eldest son. Fight for Cecilia’s happiness!"
• Harold's timidity was well known, a trait that had rendered him voiceless within the Faraday family despite his seniority.
• It had allowed his younger brothers to usurp him.
• "This is Philip’s decree," Harold muttered. "What can I do? Perhaps Connor isn’t as deplorable as the rumours suggest."
• "How can you say that?" Gwendolyn was incensed, her anger nearly choking her. Cecilia’s disappointment was palpable.
• "Mom, let us not place hope in Dad. You know his nature." Cecilia had resolved herself; if her fate could not be altered, she would rather face death.
• "The hour is upon us. We must go, lest we provoke further wrath." Cecilia's steps were deliberate, burdened with dread, as she moved towards the door.
• "Cece, are you sure you will go like that?" Gwendolyn glanced at the wedding dress that hung nearby. Even in such dire circumstances, Cecilia deserved to be adorned beautifully.
• "Does it matter?" Cecilia’s smile was as cold as winter’s breath. Marrying a brute rendered the dress meaningless.
• "But ... " Gwendolyn’s words faltered. She knew it was futile to argue.
• Cecilia, devoid of bridal attire and without a trace of makeup, was still stunning in her raw beauty and defiance.
• In the opulent halls of the hotel, the guests revelled, their glasses raised in celebration. Philip stood among them, basking in the orchestrated grandeur.
• As Cecilia swept into the grandeur of the hotel hall, a reverent silence descended upon the gathered guests.
• Philip's once warm countenance now bore a frosty edge, contemplating whether this display was her calculated bid to shame the Faradays in front of their kith and kin.
• "Dad!" Richard Faraday's voice cut through the quiet, tinged with accusation.
• "I reckon she's doing this on purpose, skipping the wedding dress. The Limerents are due in ten minutes for the proposal. If they catch sight of her like this, won't they think we're a lot of uncultured Faradays?"
• "Grandpa, Dad's spot-on!" Quinton Faraday chimed in, stoking the embers.
• "Look at her attire—no makeup. Clearly aiming to besmirch us all!"
• "Absolutely!" William Faraday added his voice. "Turning up like this, we'll be the laughingstock!"
• "Silence, the lot of you!" Philip erupted, his gaze drilling into Cecilia.
• "Are you aiming to provoke me? I've pulled every string to secure this match with the Limerents, and you treat me thus?"
• A murmur of disapproval rippled through the assembled guests, fingers subtly pointing and whispers intermingling.
• Yet Cecilia's response was a bitter smile.
• "Was it a monumental task?" She queried Philip. "What did Connor promise you for pushing me into this union?" It was ludicrous. Connor had long lusted for her beauty. Philip doesn't even need to lift a finger to make this union a success.
• "Cecilia, how dare you speak to your grandfather so!" Quinton's voice rose in ire. "It's a blessing that Connor is willing to wed you. What more do you desire? Grandpa has deliberated endlessly, and still you protest!"
• "Indeed, Cecilia is dreadfully impertinent. The Limerents are esteemed in Shoresea. She should show gratitude!" Another guest interjected.
• Among the Faradays' circle, murmurs continued, casting judgement on Cecilia's apparent lack of reverence for her elders.
• "Heh," Cecilia chuckled softly.
• Cecilia brushed away her tears, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "To you lot, marrying into the Limerents might seem like fortune's favour. But to me, it's walking straight into a pit of flames, all orchestrated by my own grandfather!"
• "You impudent girl!" Philip surged to his feet, his cane gripped tightly, ready to strike Cecilia.
• Undaunted, Cecilia shot back, "Have I spoken out of turn? Tell me, from my earliest days to now, have you ever embraced me? Not once! What gives you the right to dictate my marriage?"
• "Cece!" Harold interjected urgently. "That's your grandpa!"
• "And what of it? It's your spinelessness that's sacrificing my happiness!" Cecilia turned sharply to face Harold, leaving him wordless.
• "Today won't change my destiny, but what I wear is my choice!" Cecilia declared it firmly.
• "You ... " Philip brandished his cane, aiming it once more at Cecilia.
• "Dad, please, no! If you harm her, it won't look good in front of the Limerents. Let her be. Connor only desires her physical form; he won't care about these trivialities!" Cecilia's uncle uttered these vile words, exposing his true colours.
• Meanwhile, Gwendolyn wept bitterly.
• After around ten minutes, the Limerents' wedding procession arrived.
• Eight identical BMW 5 Series cars pulled up, prompting curious glances from the crowd gathered at the hotel entrance.
• "Poor Faradays' lass, bound to that scoundrel!"
• "Ain't that the truth? Despite their wealth, everyone knows the kind of man this scoundrel is!"
• "Cecilia's future won't be smooth sailing from here. What a pity. She's such a beauty!"
• Whispers floated through the crowd at the hotel entrance.
• Connor stepped out, clutching a large bunch of crimson blooms, his face radiant with satisfaction. After a year or two of deliberation, he'd finally secured his prize, hadn't he?
• "Heh," Connor chuckled to himself, envisioning the moment he'd peel Cecilia's attire away.
• Connor had traversed a multitude of hearts, yet none had bewitched his senses quite like Cecilia. Rumour had it, she remained untouched—a phenomenon akin to a comet's rare appearance in the night sky.
• "Ah, Mr. Limerent, at last you grace us!" Philip's voice rang out, leading the illustrious Faraday clan to the hotel's threshold.
• Connor had pledged the Faradays a grand venture in exchange for Cecilia's hand.
• This enterprise held a valuation in the millions, promising the Faradays uncharted prosperity in the currents of Shoresea.
• And that was thanks to their union with the Limerents.
• "Where is Cecilia? I've come to claim my bride!" Connor's laughter rippled. "Philip, fear not. I shall fulfil the Faradays' ambition. Moreover, our kinship shall be genuine henceforth!"
• Philip rejoiced, promptly instructing Harold to fetch Cecilia.
• "Why forsake the bridal gown I bestowed, Cece?" Connor's eyes twinkled with mischief. "No matter. It is you I marry, not the gown. Rest assured, I will cherish you. Ha ... "
• Connor's self-satisfied countenance was profoundly vexing.
• "She is my wife!" A resolute voice pierced the air.
• Instantly, all eyes turned to behold a stalwart youth stepping forth, clad in attire bestowed upon him by Cecilia a decade ago.
• "Who dares intrude?"
• "Is this some joke? Behold his garb—definitely a beggar! My word, challenging Mr. Limerent for a bride, a reckoning surely awaits."
• The assembly regarded Larry with a blend of curiosity and disdain.