CHAPTER 18
It was the eve of Niçholas and India's wedding, a day that had been eagerly anticipated by the Avendano family. The grand Avendano Manor was filled with the hustle and bustle of preparations, as Lord Avendano meticulously attended to the arrangements, leaving no stone unturned. The atmosphere was a whirlwind of activity, with decorators adorning the sprawling field, ensuring that everything was perfect for the big day

Lord Avendano, beaming with pride, oversaw every detail of the arrangements himself. The air was abuzz with activity as servants decorated the expansive field, transforming it into a picturesque setting fit for a union of two souls. Yet, amidst the frenetic flurry of preparations, Maria stood at a distance with her arms crossed, a mask of disgust etched upon her face.

Maria's mind swirled with conflicting thoughts as she watched the bustling scene before her. She couldn't bear the thought of her daughter marrying Niçholas, and every beat of her heart whispered objection
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