When I looked up, my gaze involuntarily returned to the altar. Kholod Morozov. Even at this distance, standing in silence, he radiated suffocating dominance. I couldn't make out his features clearly, only catching his stern profile and those eyes that occasionally glanced toward the priest—cold and sharp as premium amber.
"The ceremony's beginning," Isabella whispered excitedly in my ear.
The priest approached the altar, solemn Latin prayers echoing through the church. The organ music swelled, and everyone held their breath, watching that heavy oak door.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
The door remained firmly shut.
"Where's the bride?"
"She didn't... run off, did she?"
"Run? Could she even escape Philadelphia? Does she have a death wish?"
"Look at Kholod's expression... I'd rather go winter swimming in the Delaware River."
"I bet a hundred dollars we'll hear gunshots within ten minutes."
Whispers rose and fell like a flock of disturbed crows, circling beneath the church's ornate dome, making the air thin and tense.
In the front row, Anastasia Morozov maintained her dignified posture, but a shadow flickered in her usually commanding eyes. Beside her, Anya made no effort to hide her irritation, glancing at her diamond-studded watch and leaning toward her mother to complain. "How much longer do we wait? What on earth is Kholod doing?"
"My God! What's happening?" Isabella exclaimed.
I didn't answer, my gaze unconsciously locked on the man at the altar. He stood motionless as a mountain, as if the surrounding commotion had nothing to do with him. But I could sense the air around him crystallizing into ice, about to transform into a blizzard.
The priest cleared his throat awkwardly, attempting to continue the proceedings, but his voice was drowned in the growing murmur of voices.
Then Kholod suddenly turned around.
Time seemed to freeze.
Those amber eyes swept like a falcon's gaze across the restless crowd, past the ornate decorations and flickering candlelight, locking onto me with deadly precision.
A chill crept up my spine. I looked toward my mother's direction—she sat in the front side section, hands tightly clasped.
What was Kholod gonna do?
Before the thought could fully form, he was already moving. Not toward the side door to search for his missing bride, but striding down the altar steps with long strides, across the red-carpeted aisle, straight toward me!
Shocked gasps erupted around us. Isabella drew in a sharp breath.
He moved with frightening speed, his black formal coat billowing behind him like a cold wind. In an instant, his towering figure loomed over me, his shadow completely engulfing me.
He seized my wrist violently.
"Ah!" I cried out in pain.
"Mr. Morozov! You..." Isabella's voice became shrill with shock.
He completely ignored her.
"Stand up."
