Stumbling Into the Altar
“Miss Bennett… would you care to explain why the woman standing at the back of this chapel is Commander Olivia Bennett?” the King’s voice rolled like thunder.
My boots clicked against the marble as I stepped forward, the navy‑blue fabric of my uniform screaming against the pastel silk of the wedding décor.
Amelia’s eyes widened, then went white, a flash of terror caught in the gold filigree of her crown.
“Olivia?” Prince Sebastian’s tone was a mix of shock and curiosity, his fingers tightening around the ceremonial sword at his side.
I could hear the low murmur of the guests, their curiosity turning to a collective gasp.
“You think a badge and a medal can hide a truth?” I said, the words cutting through the hush.
My mind flickered back to the coffee shop in Virginia, the bitter taste of betrayal still fresh on my tongue.
