Chapter 3: Claire POV
The church is a powder keg, and Sophia's note is the spark. Ethan's face, usually a fortress of control, crumples as he reads her words. His gray eyes flicker with something raw, betrayal, maybe, or just pure shock. The guests are whispering, their voices a venomous hum, and I can feel the weight of every stare. I clutch my clipboard like it's a lifeline, my heart pounding with a sick mix of guilt and something I don't dare name.
Ethan shoves the note into his pocket and strides toward the side door, Daniel hot on his heels. I catch Daniel's eye, and he gives me a quick nod, handle this. I turn to the priest, who's already moving toward the altar, his robes swishing.
"Father Michael," I say, keeping my voice steady, "can you make an announcement? Something vague, delay due to unforeseen circumstances?"
He nods, his face somber. "Of course, Ms. Lawson. I'll keep it brief."
I glance at the crowd, spotting Matthew Carter, Ethan's father, pushing through the pews. His silver hair glints under the stained-glass light, and his jaw is set like he's ready to interrogate someone. I intercept him before he can storm after Ethan.
"Mr. Carter," I say, stepping into his path. "We're handling it. Ethan just needs a moment."
"Handling it?" His voice is low, but it cuts like a blade. "My son's been left at the altar, and you're telling me to wait? Where's Sophia? What the hell's going on?"
"I don't know yet," I admit, holding his gaze. "But I'll find out. Please, sit down. Let me do my job."
He stares at me, his brown eyes narrowing, but something in my tone makes him back off. "Fine," he mutters, turning back to his seat. "But I want answers, Claire."
I nod, already moving toward the bridesmaids, who are huddled near the vestibule, their faces pale. "Ladies, get to the lounge," I say, pointing down the hall. "Stay there until I come for you. No phones, no gossip."
They scatter, and I exhale, my hands shaking as I scribble a note to call the caterers. The priest's voice echoes behind me, calm and measured, telling the guests there's a delay and to remain seated. It buys us time, but not much.
I slip out the side door, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. Ethan's pacing the courtyard, his tie loosened, his hands raking through his black hair. Daniel's leaning against a stone pillar, trying to look casual, but his eyes are sharp, watching his brother like he's a bomb about to go off.
"Ethan," I say softly, stepping closer. "What do you need? I can start canceling vendors, or..."
"Not yet," he snaps, not looking at me. His voice is rough, like he's swallowed glass. "I need to know why."
Daniel pushes off the pillar, his smirk forced. "Maybe she got cold feet. Happens to the best of 'em. Right, Claire?"
I flinch, his words hitting too close. He's looking at me now, his green eyes too knowing, like he sees the flicker of hope I'm trying to smother. I loved Ethan for years, and now Sophia's gone, leaving him broken. I hate myself for the part of me that wonders… what if?
"Don't," Ethan growls, glaring at Daniel. "This isn't a joke."
"I'm not joking," Daniel says, raising his hands. "I'm just saying, let's not burn the city down until we know more. Claire's got this place locked down, don't you, Claire?"
"I'm trying," I say, my voice tighter than I mean it. "But I need direction, Ethan. Postpone or cancel?"
He stops pacing, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, he's not the untouchable CEO, just a man whose world just cracked open. "I don't know," he says, quieter now. "I don't even know where she is."
I step closer, my clipboard forgotten. "We'll figure it out. I'll call her friends, check her apartment, whatever it takes."
He looks at me then, his gray eyes locking onto mine, and it's like the air shifts. "You're the only one I can trust right now," he says, his voice low, almost broken. "Everyone else… they'll talk. They'll sell this to the press. But you won't."
My breath catches, and I nod, unable to speak. He's never looked at me like this, like I'm more than just his assistant. It's a fleeting moment, but it burns.
Daniel clears his throat, breaking the spell. "I'll check with the drivers," he says, already pulling out his phone. "Maybe they saw something."
He walks off, leaving us alone. Ethan leans against the courtyard wall, staring at the ground. I hesitate, then set my clipboard on a bench and move beside him. "Ethan," I say, my voice soft. "You don't have to decide everything right now. Let me handle the guests, the vendors. You just… take a minute."
He laughs, a bitter sound. "A minute. Like that'll fix this." He pulls the note from his pocket, staring at it. "She didn't even explain. Just… 'I'm sorry.' Like that's enough."
I want to reach out, to touch his arm, but I don't. Instead, I say, "Maybe she'll call. Maybe there's a reason."
He shakes his head. "She's gone, Claire. I can feel it."
The words hit me harder than they should. I swallow, forcing myself to focus. "Let me get the guests out of here," I say. "I'll tell them it's postponed, no details. We can deal with the rest later."
He nods, but his eyes are distant. I turn to go, but his voice stops me. "Claire."
I look back. He's standing straighter now, something hardening in his expression. "The press is going to eat me alive. This… this can't be how it ends."
"We'll control the narrative," I say, already thinking of PR contacts. "I'll draft a statement, keep it vague, "
"No." He steps closer, his voice dropping. "I need more than that. I need…" He pauses, his jaw tightening, like he's wrestling with something impossible. Then he grabs my arm, pulling me aside, out of earshot of anyone who might wander by. "Will you marry me? Just for show."
I freeze, his words slamming into me like a freight train. "What?"
He doesn't flinch, his eyes burning into mine. "I can't walk out of here as the guy who got dumped. I won't. Marry me, Claire. Today. We'll say it was always you, that Sophia was a decoy. Name your price."
My heart is racing, and I can't tell if it's fear or that traitor hope rearing its head. "Ethan, you're not thinking straight," I say, my voice shaking. "This is crazy."
"Maybe," he says, his grip on my arm tightening. "But I need this. And I know you'll do it right. You always do."
I stare at him, the man I've loved in silence for years, now asking me to step into Sophia's place. Not out of love, but to save his pride. My chest aches, but I can't look away from those gray eyes, pleading in a way I've never seen.