Carson sat in his room, staring at the tuxedo laid out on the bed. The black fabric looked sharp, perfect — exactly what his mother wanted.
Everything about the upcoming wedding was perfect. Perfect flowers, perfect guest list, perfect decorations. But to him, it all felt wrong.
The house buzzed with excitement. Servants moved in and out, carrying boxes of gold ribbons and trays of fine china. Victoria, his mother, gave orders from the living room, her voice firm and steady.
“Make sure the roses are imported, not local,” she said to one of the planners. “And the chandelier in the hall must be cleaned again. I want no dust in this house when the guests arrive.”
Carson stood by the doorway, watching her. “You’ve already checked everything twice,” he said quietly.
Victoria turned, smilin
