The CEO’ s second choice

Arriving At The Church

Elena

A flutter at my bedroom door gets my attention, and I see Mirabelle saunter in with a beaming

smile on her face. This makes me want to break down, and I feel light at the same time; everyone is

expecting me to be okay with this, but I am not. I know this needs to be done, but yet again I am

everyone’s second choice.

“Elena, darling!” she exclaims, taking in my wedding attire with her eyes filling up with unshed

tears. “You look beautiful, my dear. This dress altogether compliments your body well.”

I genuinely smile at her compliment. Ever since I found out she preferred me to my sister, I have

been seeing a different side to her. She certainly wanted me to be with Sebastian, but cared about my

happiness as well and felt it lay with her son. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Mirabelle and I spent a great deal of time together. She

explained what they would demand of me as a Dumont wife and how the public would look upon me as

Mrs Sebastian Dumont. The advice she gave me was invaluable and I would always be beholden to

her.

Mirabelle felt more like a mother to me than my own.

“Thank you, Mirabelle,” I answered with a crack to my voice and understood that I was close to

tears. There was discomfort in my chest from holding in my emotions throughout the morning. Then

finding out that my beloved grandmother’s necklace was never going to be given to me. At all.

Mirabelle shakes her head as a wistful smile forms on her face. “You don’t even need to thank me,

dear. You were exquisite without the dress and jewels.” She says then reaches into her handbag, “I

understand you already have something old and blue, so I come with something borrowed. Sort of.”

My eyes grew at this; I never expected something from the Dumonts for this wedding since they

were already organizing the entire thing. She then pulls out a cherry wood box and glances towards

me; “Spencer’s mother gave this to me; every mother-in-law in the Dumont line has given this to her

daughter-in-law, and now it belongs to you.”

When she opens the box, my hand immediately flies to my mouth in astonishment. Embedded in

layers of silk and velvet was the most beautiful bracelet I have ever seen; white gold with diamonds set

in oval, marquise and teardrop shapes surrounded by smaller stones. It is sheer elegance in its

simplicity.

I peered up at Mirabelle and felt a tear run down my cheek when I saw her smiling affectionately at

me. I couldn’t help myself and enclosed her in a warm embrace. “Thank you, mother,” I whisper softly,

and she pulls away with a stunned look on her face. I had just called her mother, and it rolled off my

tongue as easily as if she were my own mother.

Tears were spilling down her cheeks as well, “Oh, Elena! You have made me the happiest mother-

in-law!” She exclaims, “We are ruining our makeup before the service has even begun!”

This causes me to giggle uncontrollably, yet as I turn to grab a tissue from my dressing table, I

notice my mother slinking out of the room with a bitter look on her face. She twists to look at me and

smiles wistfully, “I will wait downstairs,” she mouths and then she leaves. Did this display really make

her that sad? A few months ago, I didn’t even exist to her as a daughter, so she did not have the right

to feel sad when another woman treated me as such.

“Come, Elena. We need to attach your veil and get moving or we will undoubtedly be late!”

Mirabelle says after correcting her makeup. She then fixes the bracelet on my wrist and attaches my

veil. I stare at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath; my energy renewing.

This small show of affection from her truly meant a lot to me. For someone to actually treat me as

a daughter and not a burden had me feeling light on my feet for a change.

Mirabelle walked towards the door then held out her hand for me to take, a gesture I heartily

reciprocated. As we sauntered down the stairs, I finally declared, “Thank you, Mirabelle. You do not

realize how much you have done means to me.” I glanced at her and she gave me a knowing smile, “I

know more than you realize, Elena. But let us not speak of anything that will spoil this momentous day

and take it one day at a time. If anything troubles you, anything at all, please do not hesitate to come to

me about it. I know how my son can be.” She answers with honesty and I nod, willing my eyes not to fill

up with tears again.

Mirabelle holds my hand and leads me out of our mansion. Then it suddenly hit me that this would

not be my home anymore. The thought itself did not cause me to feel sad. In fact, it felt as if a weight

lifted from my shoulders.

I spotted the Dumont Bentley Premier limousine as it pulled up in front of us and I was reminded

that I would live in opulence from today forward. Something I detested but learned I had to get used to.

As the chauffeur opens the door for me, I breathe a sigh of relief at the ample space inside; for a

second I had the impression of being stuffed inside in an overflow of fabric.

As I ease myself in, the door opens next to me and my father gets in with a sour expression on his

face. “Good morning, Father.” I greet him as per usual and he shoots me a glare. “What is wrong with

you, Elena?” he asks me with acid to his tone, causing me to frown.

“I don’t underst-”

“You allowed that woman to overshadow your mother yet again.” He interjects, then looks away

from me.

Excuse me??? What???

My mother had made everything about her yet again. Knowing I could never go against my father

since he literally held my freedom in his hands after 5 years, I bow my head. “I am sorry, father. I will

apologize to my mother as soon as I see her at the church.”

He then nods, then takes my hand in his, “Our family is all we have, Elena. Even though you are

marrying into this prominent family, you are a Wiltshire first. Never forget that.” He states, causing me

to feel heavily gaslighted. Would I ever have the guts to stand up to my father? In the past, perhaps.

But surely not now.

We arrive at the old gothic cathedral and I peer up at the high arches. This building was absolutely

beautiful, I never would have envisioned myself getting married in a church this elaborate.

As we come to a stop, I spot the paparazzi and sigh as I adjust my veil. Darn it, this would be my

life as a Dumont and it wasn’t even legally my last name yet. The chauffeur comes to my side of the

limousine and opens the door for me, my father already standing by with an outstretched hand. When I

reach for his palm to get out, we are suddenly bombarded:

“Mr Wiltshire, is this Eliana or Elena?”

“Mr Wiltshire, is it true that Elena is a scapegoat in this wedding?”

“Mr Wiltshire, could you elaborate on the rumours surrounding your daughters?”

“Eliana, is that you?”

The paparazzi were relentless in their questions to my father, but as usual, Lord William Wiltshire

remained impassive. He holds out his right arm for me to take, and I do so with a smile I know he

couldn’t see. Holding me possessively, he nods to the bodyguards as they drive the paparazzi back.

Walking up the cathedral steps, I noticed the multitude of cars parked in front and suddenly felt a

panic attack coming on. Who were all these people??? And why did my knees feel like buckling???

I clutch my father’s arm, and I feel him looking at me. “I’m right here, poppet. Forget about the

others.” He says as if he could sense my anxiety. What was with my parents these days? They were

extremely mercurial and had my head in a tailspin! A bad mood here, a praise there; if there was a

reason to be happy that I was moving out, this was surely one of them.

We pause in front of the massive wooden doors when suddenly they swing open and I hear The

Wedding March being played through the church organ.

Show Time.