Chapter 87

• Beneath the garden altar's floral arch, woven with cascading white roses and twinkling fairy lights, the officiant droned through the opening words about love's enduring promise, while the intimate guests held a collective breath in the golden afternoon glow. Charlotte stood silent as stone beside Howard—lips pressed thin, eyes distant, lost in the echo of a moment from minutes ago. While walking down the aisle on her father, Stevan's, arm, she'd caught a glimpse of Dr. Joseph Carman in the crowd; his proposal two days earlier still reverberated, earnest eyes pleading, "Leave this arranged marriage, Charlotte—Howard doesn't deserve you." She'd refused him firmly then, but the memory pulled her under now, a whirlwind of temptation amid the vows.
• This was the same day, same event, and same man as her past life—yet she was no longer the naive bride blinded by hope. Reborn with foresight, she'd hardened, plans simmering beneath her lace gown to upend the betrayals ahead. Suddenly, Howard's grip tightened on her hand, a subtle squeeze that yanked her back to the present, grounding her in the warmth of his palm through her glove. Today, I marry Howard again, she thought, resolve steeling as the quartet's soft notes swelled around them.
• Howard, jaw set like granite, felt her slight tremor but shoved every distraction down hard—Don't think about her. Not her beauty, not that inexplicable pull. Grandfather Wendell had fixed this union, a Carter legacy etched in iron will, and Howard endured it only as long as the old man breathed. Until Grandfather's gone, I can get rid of her. He fixed his gaze on the officiant, mentally mapping escape clauses in Wendell's decrees, ignoring Ryan's knowing smirk from the side, the tension between bride and groom coiling tighter than the rose-stemmed arch above.