Chapter 9 - The Gathering in Quebec
Two years later.
The golden leaves of autumn were falling gently around St. Joseph’s Chapel in Quebec City. The air was crisp, clear, and filled with the joyful sound of church bells ringing across the valley.
Inside the chapel, light filtered through stunning stained-glass windows, illuminating the gathering of close friends, family, and colleagues who had assembled for a quiet, intimate ceremony.
I stood at the back of the church, wearing an exquisite ivory silk gown designed by a local artisan. My father walked beside me, holding my arm tightly, his face beaming with pride.
Ahead of us down the aisle stood Gabriel, looking dashing in a dark navy suit, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart flutter like a teenager's. Beside him stood Maya, now nine years old, holding a bouquet of white lilies, serving as my maid of honor. Little Lily, now six, was trotting down the aisle ahead of us, scattering rose petals with a huge, toothy grin.
"You look breathtaking, my girl," my father whispered, leaning down to kiss my cheek before we took our first steps down the aisle. "Your mother is looking down from heaven, smiling today."
"I’m happy, Dad," I whispered back. "I’m truly happy."
And I was. Over the past two years, Gabriel hadn't just loved me—he had embraced my daughters as his own. He attended every school play, every soccer game, every parent-teacher conference. He taught Maya how to sail on the lake and held Lily’s hand every night until she fell asleep when she was afraid of the dark. He didn't care about "heirs" or "lineage." He cared about us.
As my father placed my hand in Gabriel's, Gabriel leaned in and whispered, "You take my breath away, Chloé."
"I love you," I replied softly, squeezing his fingers.
The priest began the ceremony, his voice warm and solemn echoing through the vaulted ceiling.
Across the ocean, in a dingy apartment in the suburbs of Paris, Antoine was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a official letter from the Paris Tribunal.
His company was officially declared bankrupt. The Bastien family estate in Neuilly was up for public auction to satisfy millions in debt. His mother had moved into a modest retirement home, and his father had passed away six months ago, broken-hearted and alone.
Antoine opened his laptop. He didn't need to search hard to find the news. A Canadian lifestyle magazine had featured a story on its front page:
FAMOUS INTERIOR DESIGNER CHLOÉ LAURENT MARRIES ARCHITECT GABRIEL ROY IN STUNNING QUEBEC CEREMONY.
Below the article was a photo of our family standing on the chapel steps—Gabriel, Maya, Lily, and me—surrounded by blooming white roses, surrounded by love, surrounded by peace.
Antoine stared at the photo for a long, long time.
May you like
He didn't scream. He didn't cry anymore. The well of his tears had run completely dry long ago. He simply closed the laptop, placed his hands on his knees, and sat in the total, terrifying silence of his empty room.
He had won his freedom at 10:17 AM two years ago. And it had cost him his entire life.
