Amelia felt the blood drain from her face, a cold wave of terror washing over her. "Taken ill?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yes, Miss," the maid stammered. "The message said it was urgent. They requested your immediate presence."
Victor's hand clamped onto Amelia's arm, his grip surprisingly tight. "We need to get to them," he said, his voice firm yet laced with a hint of concern.
Amelia nodded numbly, her mind racing. Was this a genuine illness, or something more sinister? A ploy planned by her parents to disrupt the wedding?
Without further delay, Victor and Amelia excused themselves from the reception, leaving behind a flurry of bewildered whispers and curious glances. They hurried out of the ballroom, the weight of their unspoken worry hanging heavy in the air.
As the
