The wedding looked like a fairy tale.
The sun dipped low over the manicured gardens, casting long, honey-colored shadows across rows of white velvet chairs.
Anya stood at the altar. Beside her, Sterling looked less like a mafia soldier and more like a man who had finally found his North Star. Every time he looked at her, his eyes softened in a way that made the hardened men in the front row shift uncomfortably.
In the third row, Kendella sat like a statue. She looked stunning in a sky blue dress, but her gaze was fixed firmly on the floral arch. She felt the weight of a stare from the altar—not from the groom, but from the man standing directly behind him.
Jae-hyun.
He was the best man, standing tall in a black suit. He was watching her.
