The gardens of the Blackwood estate were a sea of white roses and expensive perfume. As the string quartet began to play a slow, regal melody, the large wooden doors of the manor opened.
Every head turned to see the entrance everyone had been waiting for.
Maeve appeared, looking like a dream in her white lace gown. Beside her, Michael Williams stood tall. He looked at his daughter with eyes full of pride and a little bit of sadness. He knew she was walking into a life of power, but he also knew the man she was marrying was made of cold stone. As they stepped onto the long white runner, he squeezed her arm gently to steady her.
"You look just like your mother," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Maeve gave him a soft smile, her heart fluttering. "Thanks, Dad. Just don't let me
