“There is one person who carried every burden so that I could stand beneath these lights today,” Noah said, his voice dropping into a softer, tender cadence.
My breath hitched in my throat as his gaze locked directly onto mine in the fourth row.
“My mother, Claire Bennett,” Noah announced clearly, gesturing toward the aisle.
“Mom, please come up here and stand with me,” he asked, his smile radiant with pure, uncorrupted love.
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The spotlight swung toward the side steps, blinding me for a split second as I stepped out into the aisle wearing a simple emerald silk blouse.
As I ascended the first wooden step, Vincent Moretti turned his head to follow the crowd’s gaze, his casual smile freezing into absolute stone.
I saw the exact millisecond his pupils dilated, the color draining from his tanned face until his skin resembled polished bone.
His gaze flicked from my eyes to Noah’s face, then back to my cheekbones, taking in the identical slant of our son’s dark brows.
