Chapter 2 - Marching into the Lion’s DenI didn’t wait for an invitation. I didn't flinch under the weight of three hundred staring eyes.
With slow, deliberate grace, I released my sons' hands for just a moment to adjust the diamond brooch pinned to my shoulder—a piece worth more than a suburban home, purchased with the first major dividend of my digital marketing agency’s Series B acquisition.
"Boys," I said softly, looking down at my triplets. "Stay close to Mama. We’re going to go wish your father a happy wedding."
"Is that our daddy?" Caleb asked, pointing a small finger directly at Ethan, who was currently trembling near the altar as if he had just seen a ghost walk out of a grave.
"He certainly is," I replied with a sweet, lethal smile. "Let’s go introduce ourselves."
The crowd parted automatically. As I walked down the white-rose-petaled aisle—the very aisle meant for Ethan’s new bride—people physically stepped back, pressing against the white folding chairs to clear a wide, terrified path. They didn't see a discarded ex-wife anymore; they saw a force of nature stepping into the arena.
Up on the balcony, Eleanor finally recovered enough movement to spin around and storm toward the grand double doors leading down to the lawn. Her face was mottled with fury. The untouchable matriarch of the Montgomery dynasty was losing control of her empire, one second at a time.
Ethan finally found his voice. He pushed past the pastors and the floral arrangements, stumbling down the altar steps toward the edge of the grass.
"Aria..." Ethan choked out, his voice cracking, the charismatic CEO persona completely shattered. "What... what is this? What are you doing here? How... how are..."
He couldn't even finish the sentence. His gaze dropped from my eyes down to the three little boys standing right beside me, looking up at him with cool, detached curiosity.
"Hello, Ethan," I said, my voice carrying effortlessly across the silent gardens, cool as mountain spring water. "I received your lovely invitation. Table 27, right beside the kitchen doors. I thought it was terribly thoughtful of your mother to arrange such a cozy spot for us. But honestly, when you have three special guests who wanted to see their father get married for the second time, I figured we deserved a front-row view."
"Father?" Ethan whispered, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. He dropped to one knee, ignoring the dirt on his designer trousers, and reached out shaking hands toward Liam. "L-Liam? Noah? Caleb?"
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Liam stepped back, crossing his small arms over his velvet jacket, mirroring the exact defensive posture I had perfected over years of corporate boardrooms. "Mommy says we shouldn't talk to strangers who look confused."
A muffled gasp rippled through the front rows. Several socialites hid their mouths behind their champagne flutes, trying desperately to suppress snorts of shock and amusement.
