Side elites whispered furiously. The buzzing
tight. She leaned over to her husband, Harold, franti
er face, pretending to cry, but the corners of
ir telephoto lenses aimed at the altar. They were h
lining the church walls went pitch black.
scrolling gold letters that read Connor & Anissa were gone
eam had swiftly draped a velvet cloth over the original piece and wheeled out a pre-prepared
d the screens and let out a
screen. All the blood drained from her face. She b
t board members were spamming him, demanding to know
nding backlight framed two tall silh
nt thunderstorm. The shutter clic
hurch stopped breathing. A dead, hor
omsman. It was Harding Snow. The phantom emperor of
perfectly. His presence was so suffocatingly powerful that
igh. There was no grief in her eyes. She lo
her high heels, and she nearly collapsed into
sts began to stand up. It wasn't out of respect for the w
sle to stop them. Harold grabbed her wrist and yan
s sweating profusely. His hands shook
ding in terror, completely u
est a freezing glare
, though it cracked. "Do you, Harding Snow, ta
d Harding was just standing in to sa
s vow is legally and personally binding, ef
media section lost their minds. T
could finish the sentence, Anissa looke
velvet box. Harding pulled out a ring. It was a
e ring-the ultimate symbol of the Snow
through the thin tulle of her veil, he pressed his li
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