"This has to look perfect!" Candace muttered as she carefully folded the exquisite golden wrapping paper around the luxurious Sac Bijou Berkin bag. Each crease was a testament to her meticulousness, mirroring her desire to impress the Avendano family. As she worked, her mother, Gladys, entered the room, her eyes betraying her curiosity. "What are you wrapping, Candace?" she asked, peering over her shoulder. Candace beamed, holding up the beautifully adorned gift. "It's a Sac Bijou Berkin bag, specially designed for India by my friend, Pierre Hardy. India will absolutely adore it. I can't wait to give it to her." A furrow appeared on Gladys' forehead. "A Berkin bag? And how much did this bag cost you?" Candace's smile wavered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. "Just two million dollars, Mother... Why do you ask?" Gladys's eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth hanging open. The shock was evident on her face as she repeated the staggering amount. "2 million dollars?" Candace wa

Niçholas stood tall and composed as he closed the distance between India and himself, his arm entwined with India's as they gracefully made their way down the aisle. The soft murmurs in the crowd swirled around them like an invisible gust of wind. Whispers danced from one guest to another, wondering aloud about Niçholas. Some speculated about his lineage, his background, and the wealthy family he might belong to. Among the gathering, a familiar face was contorted with surprise as Candace caught sight of him. Her widened eyes mirrored the shock rippling through her as she tried to comprehend the scene unfolding before her. She looked from Archie to Isolde hoping to be told her eyes were playing games with her. "Who is he, really?" hushed voices in the neatly organized and seated crowd questioned, echoing through the elegant field adorned with opulent decorations. "Surely, he must be from a prominent family to wed the young mistress of the Avendano family, he looks really handsome," o

Amidst the ornate surroundings of the wedding venue, Niçholas and India stood facing each other, hands intertwined, their gazes filled with love and commitment. The atmosphere was serene, adorned with floral arrangements and soft candlelight, creating an aura of tranquility around the couple. The priest, adorned in ceremonial robes, began the solemn exchange of vows. "Niçholas, do you take India to be your lawfully wedded wife, to cherish and honor, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?" His voice boomed through the open space and tension hung in the air, many had thought that the young mistress of the Avendano family would end up with the Yerin, however this good looking stranger was a mystery to everyone. Maria silently prayed for a miracle, she would never allow her son to be married to that lowlife wanna be called Niçholas. She had plans of strengthening family ties and securing a higher position in the social ladder with India's wedding. Why Lord Avendan

The sudden upheaval had cast doubt not only on Niçholas's claims but also on the Avendano family's judgment, leaving the guests in a state of disbelief and reevaluation. Whispers and murmurs continued to swirl among the attendees, the sanctity of the celebration overshadowed by the cloud of uncertainty and skepticism that had gripped the once-celebratory occasion. As the tumultuous revelations unfolded, India's once serene demeanor transformed into a tableau of palpable tension and distress. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, glistening subtly in the ambient light, a manifestation of the intense emotional turmoil that consumed her. Her heart, a steady rhythm of anticipation and anxiety, quickened its pace, thudding in her chest like a relentless drumbeat. Each revelation, each accusation, seemed to tighten an invisible vice around her, constricting her breath and escalating the frantic rhythm of her heart. Suddenly, the Head of Dankworth Group, Mr. Reynolds, stood up, his expression

Archie, cautious yet determined to reveal the truth, continued, "He's an ex-convict." A collective gasp escaped the group, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. Murmurs and whispers spread among them as the revelation sank in. "An ex-convict?" one of the women repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. Archie nodded solemnly. "Yes, my sister was once married to him. I felt it was important for you all to know." The news rippled through the group, sparking a flurry of speculation and discussions among the women. Some expressed shock, while others exchanged concerned glances, processing the unexpected twist in Niçholas's background. As Archie observed their reactions, a sense of unease mixed with a faint hint of satisfaction settled within him. He had fulfilled his duty to inform others, albeit with a heavy heart, about Niçholas's concealed past, knowing the repercussions of such a disclosure could potentially stir ripples throughout the wedding gathering. With