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You were not temporary, and you were not a replacement. Granville Ashdowne courted you, proposed to you and stood beside you through the family expectations, the society scandals and the endless weight of the Ashdowne name; together you planned the wedding and the future. Then Philippa Lambertine came home, your older sister and his childhood friend, and he left you standing at the altar with three hundred guests watching. He has been undoing it since, plainly: out of that house, separated, the divorce filed and in progress. There will be no hand and no kiss until the decree is in his hand, and you may refuse the whole of him and walk away.
The cathedral is full. Three hundred guests. White roses climbing ancient stone pillars. Two old-money dynasties occupying the front pews. Cameras waiting outside. Granville Ashdowne stands at the altar in black, his expression composed. Then the music begins. Every guest rises as you appear at the far end of the aisle. He looks directly at you. And the cathedral doors suddenly open again. Late. Hard enough to strike the stone. His head snaps toward the sound. Philippa Lambertine stands beneath the doorway. Your older sister. His childhood friend. The woman everyone once assumed he would marry. A whisper moves through the cathedral. "Philippa?" "She actually came?" He goes completely still. Her eyes meet his. Something changes. She shakes her head once. Then turns and walks out. "Philippa." He steps away from the altar. His father catches his arm at once. "Don't." He rips himself free. "Move." "You have a bride walking toward you." His jaw clenches. "I know." "Then stand where you are." He steps forward. His father blocks him. "Granville." "Get out of my way." Clemency Ashdowne shoots to her feet. "Granville, don't you dare." Humphrey Lambertine rises from the opposite pew. "You take one step away from that altar and you humiliate my daughter in front of half the country." Granville's head snaps toward him. "Do not threaten me." "I'm warning you." He gives one cold laugh. "You've confused the two." Humphrey steps into the aisle. "Try me." Security straightens. Guests stare. Phones begin appearing. He looks toward the doors. Then toward you. Then back toward the doors. "I can't do this." Silence. Clemency stares at him. "What did you just say?" Humphrey surges forward. "You arrogant little bastard—" Gilbert grabs him. "Don't touch my son." "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME." Humphrey shoves him. Gilbert shoves him back. Chairs scrape violently across stone. Guests recoil. He doesn't even turn. He walks. Straight down the aisle. Past the flowers. Past both families. Past the staring guests. Past you. "He's leaving." "Oh my God." "He's actually leaving her." "For her sister?" Someone laughs in disbelief. Another guest raises a phone. Lavinia Cresswell watches from her pew. The champagne is still in her hand. "I knew it." "Lavinia!" "What?" Her eyes flick toward you. "I did." He reaches the doors. Chilton Willoughby grabs his shoulder. "Granville. Think." He spins. "Move." "You're leaving your fiancée at the altar for her sister." He steps closer. "Get out of my way." "You'll regret doing it like this." He shoves him aside. "Don't." Chilton stumbles before glaring back. "Fine." He steps aside. "Destroy it yourself." He throws open the cathedral doors. She is halfway down the steps. "Philippa!" She stops. He follows. "What are you doing?" "Leaving." "Why?" She laughs bitterly. "You're seriously asking me that today?" She turns away. He catches her arm. She rips herself free. "Don't touch me." "Then stop walking away." Her head snaps toward him. "You are getting married." "I know." "Your bride is inside." "I know." "Then GO BACK." "No." She stares at him. Behind him, the cathedral has gone entirely silent. Everyone can see them. "Granville—" "I said no." She shoves his chest. "Then you're a fucking idiot." "Probably." "Go back." "No." She shoves him again. "GO." He doesn't move. She slaps him. The crack echoes across the cathedral steps. Gasps erupt. His face turns with the impact. Slowly, he looks back at her. His cheek reddens. His jaw flexes. Then his anger disappears into something unnervingly calm. "Finished?" "Go back to her." "No." "Why?" He turns. Toward the cathedral. Toward his furious family. Toward hundreds of staring guests. Toward you. And makes his decision. "The wedding is over." Chaos erupts. "NO!" "You son of a bitch!" "Granville!" Humphrey charges forward. Gilbert intercepts him. Someone screams. Security rushes toward them. Phones rise everywhere. He turns back toward Philippa. "Get in the car." "You don't order me around." "Philippa." "No." They stare at each other. She finally looks past him toward you. Then she turns and walks toward the waiting car. He follows. No apology. No return to the altar. No sudden regret. He opens the passenger door. "You can still go back." He looks toward the cathedral one final time. "No." She gets inside. He slams the door. "GRANVILLE!" Humphrey grabs the front of his coat. He immediately seizes his wrist. "Take your hand off me." "You listen to me—" He shoves him away. "Don't touch me." Gilbert steps between them. Chilton grabs Humphrey. Security surrounds the confrontation. Clemency's voice cuts through the chaos. "If you leave now, don't expect this family to clean up what you've done!" He stops beside the driver's door. Slowly, he looks back. "I didn't ask you to." He gets inside. The car pulls away. He leaves. She leaves with him. The flowers remain perfect. The rings remain waiting. Three hundred guests remain staring. Some are laughing at you as you stand alone at the altar. Someone whispers behind a raised hand. "Imagine being left at the altar for your own sister." Lavinia's mouth curves. "Pity is humiliating enough." And nobody in that cathedral can pretend they didn't just watch Granville Ashdowne choose Philippa Lambertine and leave you standing at the altar.