A feeble, mirthless laugh escaped Ariana’s lips, a tear trickling from her eye. “No… You are not him…” she murmured weakly.
Her words trailed off as unconsciousness enveloped her.
“To the hospital, now!” Holden barked urgently at Shawn, rushing toward the car while gently cradling Ariana’s body.
Sadie watched the scene unfold, her expression contorted in torment as she let out a heartbreaking wail. “Holden!”
But Holden didn’t look back, focused solely on getting Ariana to hospital.
At that moment, a horde of reporters surged into the hall from the other side, expecting to capture details of the wedding. To their surprise, they found only Sadie, crying and distraught on the stage beside an unknown man.
Not recognizing Holden, the reporters assumed the man was the groom.
Acknowledging his good looks, they started taking pictures of the confusing setting right away. But gradually, they began to notice how strange it was that only these two people were there for such a large wedding. Something didn’t seem right.
Just then, the priest on stage slowly announced, “Welcome to Zayden Fredrick and Sadie Pierre’s wedding ceremony!”
The reporters all froze in disbelief.
When had the groom changed to Zayden? Wasn’t it supposed to be Holden? What exactly was happening here?
Confusion rippled through the reporters as they tried to figure out the situation. However, a few astute ones realized an explosive story was unfolding before their eyes. They quickly readied their voice recorders, sensing a scoop in the making
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Sadie’s heart raced as she realized she had to scram. But her wedding dress was dragging, and though she wanted to bolt, she couldn’t move an inch without help. She was grappling solo, tugging at the gown’s hem frantically, but it was in vain.
In her dire moment, she shouted for Zayden amid the bedlam of the crowd.
However, Zayden was tangled in his own mess and paid her no mind.
He had reacted quicker than Sadie, slipping away silently to a quiet nook, away from the bewildered media.
As he neared the small exit, just a stone’s throw away, a group of black-clad bodyguards materialized by his side, blocking his path efficiently. One of them spoke up. “Mr. Fredrick, this is your wedding. It wouldn’t look good to leave the bride all alone, would it?”
The bodyguard’s expression stayed impassive as he added, “Are you going back there on your own, or do we need to escort you?”
Zayden’s face darkened, cursing inwardly and grinding his teeth. “No need to lay a hand on me,” he said.
He glanced at the media relentlessly capturing his every move, wondering how to make a break. Luckily, his people showed up right then.