5

Chapter 5

On the day of the wedding, the New York sky is strangely clear.

Lancaster Group has booked a century-old Catholic cathedral to host political, business, and defense industry elites.

Outside the church sits a row of black armored luxury vehicles. Both sides of the street are lined with fully armed private security.

Inside, the cathedral's vaulted ceiling soars, colorful stained glass reflecting angels and radiance—beautiful in its solemnity, yet cold.

The pews are filled with power brokers from around the globe—

Russian defense conglomerates, European research groups, American arms suppliers, West Coast energy tycoons...

Every one of them stone-faced, their cufflinks and tie clips gleaming with sharp metallic light, representing their positions on the world's power map.

I sit in the back row, trying to blend into the shadows.

Miranda walks down the aisle on her father's arm—the head of the Volkov Defense Group.

Her white heels click on the red carpet, each step light yet arrogant. Her white gown perfectly cinches her waist and shoulders. Beneath the veil is a face of tightly controlled pride.

As she passes my row, her gaze sweeps over me.

"Oh, Lana. You came."

She murmurs, "Good. You can witness this moment. Don't be too sad—your seat was never meant to be up front anyway."

My fingers tighten slightly, but I say nothing.

Soon, Ethan enters through the side door.

He's dressed in a deep black custom suit, gold cufflinks glinting briefly in the light.

That familiar cold, sharp profile has softened its edge for the occasion, leaving only calm and dignity.

The priest begins the ceremony, speaking of marriage, loyalty, and vows.

But no one below cares about anything "sacred."

What they really care about: how the union of Lancaster and Volkov will reshape global defense structures and military supply chains.

When the priest reaches the exchange of rings—

—BOOM.

A muffled explosion sounds outside the cathedral.

The entire building trembles slightly. Stained glass rattles with delicate chimes.

The next second, the cathedral doors are smashed open.

Several fully armed mercenaries in black storm in, weapons raised, movements precise and brutal.

"Everyone down!"

Shouts erupt. Gunfire instantly drowns out the music.

My body reacts on instinct—I stand, crouching low. But my hands find only empty jacket pockets.

My weapons—all left at the safe house.

I look up just in time to see one mercenary pull out a small explosive device aimed at the altar. The target is clear: Miranda.

Ethan's reaction is lightning-fast.

He yanks Miranda into his arms, his body completely shielding her.

Then he kicks the explosive away.

And it flies straight toward where I'm standing.

I clearly see that flash of white in his arms, protected flawlessly.

BOOM—!

The blast blooms right in front of me.

Searing pain engulfs me. I'm thrown back, crashing hard to the ground.

Air is ripped away. Breathing turns shallow.

Through hazy vision, I see Ethan holding Miranda like the most precious treasure in the world.

Once again, he chose her without hesitation.

...

When the gunfire finally stops, I hear footsteps approaching.

Several delegates and security personnel stand in the hall's center, still shaken and furious.

Miranda's father—the iron-fisted head of the Volkov Group—looks at me lying in blood, his tone cold and arrogant. "She's a liability. Ethan, our alliance can't afford anyone who might leak classified information. This woman knows too much. She shouldn't be allowed to live."

The air drops to a brutal chill.

Ethan doesn't answer immediately.

After a few seconds of silence, his voice is low and cold. "Get rid of her. Or this marriage—ends here."

"Are you threatening me?" Ethan's voice turns ice-cold.