PART 2
The sound of breaking crystal echoed across the estate like a gunshot.
Ethan stepped onto the balcony behind his mother just as the glass shattered. The second he saw my sons, the color drained from his face completely.
His hands gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He looked at the boys.
Then at me.
Then back at them again.
Five years.
The math hit him instantly.
I didn’t react.
I simply adjusted Caleb’s bow tie and took my sons’ hands before walking forward calmly through the crowd.
Chicago’s elite parted around us like water.
“Mama,” Noah asked loudly, pointing toward the altar, “is that the man getting married?”
A few guests choked on their champagne.
I smiled softly.
“We’re only here to observe, sweetheart. Keep walking.”
I completely ignored Table 27 near the kitchen entrance.
Instead, I walked directly to the front row — the section reserved exclusively for immediate family.
A trembling wedding coordinator rushed toward me.
