The Voss family spared no expense when it came to spectacle.
The wedding hall was nothing short of breathtaking. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their glow casting a warm, opulent light over the guests. Rows of white roses lined the aisle, the scent mingling with the expensive perfumes worn by the city's most powerful figures.
It was the kind of wedding that screamed perfection—flawless, elegant, and completely staged.
And at the center of it all, standing beneath a grand arch of ivory and gold, was Lily Whitmore.
Her white gown clung to her slender frame, delicate lace flowing down in cascading waves. Her golden-brown hair was pulled into an elegant twist, a few loose strands framing her flawless face.
She was smiling.
A smile so radiant, so perfectly rehearsed, that no one would ever guess her secret.
No one, except the man she was about to marry.
Victor Kane.
Tall. Sharp. Arrogant.
Victor had always been a man who took what he wanted. He had built his empire on blood and broken promises, carving his way to the top with ruthless precision.
And now, he was claiming Damien Voss's fiancée as his prize.
The priest cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the crowd.
"This union is one of trust, honor, and devotion," he announced, his voice echoing through the vast hall. "If there is anyone who objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."
There was silence.
A stillness so absolute that even the chandeliers seemed to stop their soft sway.
Then—
BOOM!
The heavy oak doors of the wedding hall slammed open, crashing against the walls with a force that sent a gust of air through the room.
Gasps filled the hall.
Every head turned.
And there, standing in the doorway like a phantom from the past, was Damien Voss.
He was Alive, Unbroken and More powerful than ever.
A hush fell over the room.
Some guests whispered. Others simply stared in stunned disbelief.
But it was Lily who reacted first.
Her skin drained of all color, her perfectly painted lips parting in shock. Her hand, which had been resting lightly in Victor's, tightened into a death grip.
Victor's expression twisted, his jaw locking, his muscles tensing as though he just saw a ghost. Actually it was a ghost that he saw.
And at the front row, Charles Voss, Damien's father, sat frozen in his chair. His face remained impassive, but the slightest flicker in his dark eyes betrayed the truth.
He had not expected this.
Slowly, Charles stood, his presence commanding, his voice cold as ice.
"Damien! What are you doing here? You are not welcome here."
A single sentence. Simple. Dismissive.
But Damien?
He only smirked.
"Did you think you could erase me so easily?" His voice was calm, but beneath it lay something lethal. Something that sent an undeniable chill through the room. The was ultimate silence in the room as he walked tenderly but confidently.
Lily flinched and shock was in her eyes.
Victor's fists clenched at his sides.
Damien took another step forward, and the guests instinctively shifted away. They didn't know why, but the weight of his presence was suffocating.
Like a storm waiting to break.
Lily finally found her voice, though it came out in a bare whisper.
"You…" Her lips trembled. "You're supposed to be—" she stuttered.
"Dead?" Damien finished smoothly, tilting his head slightly. "I get that a lot lately." He shrugged.
The tension was thick and suffocating to everyone in the room, most especially lily.
Then, Damien's gaze slid to Victor.
A slow, measured movement.
Victor's body tensed, his shoulders squared, his glare locked onto Damien's.
Neither man spoke.
They didn't need to.
The air between them was charged, the weight of their history pressing down like a vice.
And then, in a move that no one expected, Damien leaned in.
He was close now—too close actually—his breath barely brushing against Victor's ear.
And he whispered a single sentence. Just a few words and Victor Kane turned ghost-white.
His entire body went rigid. His breath hitched. His fists, once so tightly clenched, trembled ever so slightly at his sides.
Lily noticed immediately.
"Victor?" Her voice was edged with panic. "What did he say to you?"
But Victor couldn't answer.
He just stood there. Frozen. Terrified.
The shift was immediate. The wedding was no longer a celebration.
It was a battlefield.
Damien stepped back, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. He turned—not towards the priest, not towards the guests, but towards his father.
Charles Voss remained still, but for the first time that evening, a glimmer of something unreadable crossed his face.
Damien held his gaze for just a second longer.
Then, he turned on his heel and strode back down the aisle, the same way he had come.
The room stayed silent.
No one knew what to say. No one dared move. It was as though they just got visited by the angel of death and they were frozen in shock.
Because Damien had left behind something far worse than chaos.
He had left behind fear and fear was far more powerful than any revenge.