Not His Mistress But His Heiress
Language: en
At the altar, the wedding officiant turned his microphone toward Wesley. "Does the groom have any words he’d like to share with his beautiful bride?" A ripple of teasing laughter cascaded through the ballroom. I felt a sudden heat rise to my cheeks, my fingers tightening around my bouquet. I looked at Wesley, expecting the soft, reassuring smile he always gave me when I got nervous. Instead, Wesley took the microphone, his expression flat and unreadable. "Cassidy," he began, his voice echoing through the expensive sound system. "That night I saw you wrapped in your CEO's arms in the…