Chapter 104

"The groom's name is Simon Stapleton?"

"Yes, do you know him?"

Evelyn Carter's fingers tightened slightly around her clutch. "...He was my high school classmate."

The dean's smile widened. "That's wonderful! You're already acquainted. He must have been exceptional back then too. I heard the whole school was buzzing when he got into Hudson University on a full scholarship."

The wedding hall was filled with joy, the dean's face radiating contentment. Evelyn pressed her lips together and murmured, "Good grades are one thing, but character matters most in marriage."

"True," the dean sighed. "When Natalie first told me she was pregnant, I was so furious I nearly ended up in the hospital. But after meeting Simon—his manners, his thoughtfulness toward her—I finally felt at ease."

Evelyn hesitated, holding back words.

The ceremony proceeded swiftly, almost rushed. A montage of the couple's memories played on the screen. The officiant recited the vows mechanically. It wasn’t until the ring exchange that Evelyn stepped forward to hand over the velvet box.

As she turned, she locked eyes with someone familiar.

Gregory Wilson stood beside her, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, a red silk boutonniere pinned to his lapel.

"Did the dean ask you to come?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Said the groom just returned from abroad and couldn’t find a groomsman." His gaze shifted to the front row. "The dean’s crying."

Evelyn followed his line of sight. The usually stern man was hunched over, wiping his eyes repeatedly.

"Giving away a daughter is like cutting out a piece of a father’s heart."

Gregory suddenly asked, "Did your father react this way when you married Alexander?"

Her breath hitched.

"Sorry," he backtracked immediately. "Just making conversation. You don’t have to answer."

"We didn’t have a wedding."

"Why not?"

"Too busy."

Gregory chuckled softly. "Time is like water in a sponge. You can always squeeze some out."

The words pricked her like a needle.

There’d been no wedding because Alexander Hamilton hadn’t cared enough. Just like how he’d ultimately chosen Annabelle Taylor—Evelyn had never been his first choice.

"Evelyn..." The bride, Natalie Stapleton, hurried over in a flutter of satin, her face pale. "What do I do about the toast later?"

Evelyn steadied her. "I’ll drink for you."

"But there are so many guests..."

"Just point out which ones are mandatory."

Natalie’s eyes welled up. "Thank God you’re here."

"Come on, let’s get you changed for the reception."

A sharp gasp cut through the air behind them. "Evelyn?!"

The voice was painfully familiar. Evelyn froze, then slowly turned.

Annabelle stood a few feet away, her bouquet slipping from her fingers and hitting the floor with a soft thud.