The Price of Fame

CHAPTER 3

Chapter Three: A Lavish Wedding Party, An Empty Heart

Hanna going through the motions of planning a wedding that didn’t feel real. Patrick’s team took care of everything—the dress, the venue, the guest list. It was all done with the utmost efficiency, as if they had done this a hundred times before.

On the morning of the wedding, Hanna stood in front of the mirror in the bridal suite, staring at her reflection. The dress they had chosen for her was simple and elegant, a white silk gown that flowed gracefully around her. Her hair was pinned up in a delicate chignon, and her makeup was flawless, accentuating her natural beauty.

But as she looked at herself, all she could see was a stranger. This wasn’t the wedding she had imagined as a little girl, with a man she loved waiting for her at the end of the aisle. This was a transaction, a business deal disguised as a marriage.

A soft knock on the door broke her reverie. She turned to see Patrick’s assistant, a young woman with a polite but distant expression, standing in the doorway.

“It’s time, Miss Brooks,” the assistant said.

Hanna took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Okay,” she whispered, following the woman out of the room and down the hall to the small chapel where the ceremony would take place.

The chapel was beautiful, with stained glass windows casting colorful patterns of light on the floor. There were only a few guests—close associates of Patrick’s, people she didn’t know. As she walked down the aisle, she felt their eyes on her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the front of the room, where Patrick was waiting.

He stood tall and composed, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he watched her approach. This was exactly what he had wanted, and he had gotten it.

The ceremony itself was brief, almost clinical. The officiant recited the vows, and Hanna repeated them robotically, feeling disconnected from the words she was saying. When it came time to exchange rings, Patrick slid a simple diamond ring onto her finger, sealing the deal.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant said. “You may kiss the bride.”

Patrick leaned in, and Hanna braced herself for the kiss. It was quick, almost perfunctory—a mere formality to complete the ceremony. But as Patrick pulled back, his eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something there, something almost like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same steely determination she had come to expect from him.

The grand ballroom of the Conrad Hotel was a dazzling display of wealth and opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden light over the sea of elegantly dressed guests. Tables were adorned with white roses and gold accents, and a string quartet played softly in the corner, their music blending with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses.

Hanna stood at the center of it all, her arm linked with Patrick’s. She wore a stunning designer gown, the fabric shimmering with every movement. Her smile was practiced, polite, the same smile she had worn throughout the entire ceremony. It was the smile of someone playing a part, trapped in a role they hadn’t chosen.

“Smile for the cameras, darling,” Patrick whispered in her ear, his voice smooth and low. “This is what they’re here for.”

Hanna nodded mechanically, turning her face toward the flashing cameras. The photographers jostled for the best angle, shouting instructions and praise.

“Hanna, over here! Look this way!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Owen, a kiss for the camera!”

Patrick obliged, leaning in to brush his lips against Hanna’s cheek. She barely felt it, her mind elsewhere. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face, anyone who might offer a sense of comfort or normalcy in this surreal spectacle.

“Is everything alright?” Patrick asked, his smile never faltering.

“Fine,” Hanna replied, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Just… overwhelmed.”

Patrick’s grip on her arm tightened, his smile becoming more fixed. “You’ll get used to it. This is your life now, Hanna.

Hanna nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She had done what she needed to do, made the choices that had brought her here. But standing in the middle of this lavish display, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had lost something essential, something she could never get back.

A waiter approached with a tray of champagne glasses, and Patrick took two, handing one to Hanna. “To us,” he said, raising his glass.

“To us,” Hanna echoed, clinking her glass against his.

As she took a sip, a voice cut through the noise, startling her.

“Hanna?”

She turned, the champagne glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the marble floor. Standing a few feet away was a man she hadn’t seen in years, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“Leo?” Hanna whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

Leo stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers. “I can’t believe it’s you. When I heard… I had to see for myself.”

Hanna’s mind raced, a hundred memories flooding back at once. Leo Alvarez, her first love, the boy she had grown up with, who had shared her dreams of making it in the music world. They had been inseparable once, planning a future together that now seemed like a distant, impossible fantasy.

“Leo, what are you doing here?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“I came with a friend,” Leo said, his gaze flicking to Patrick, who was watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know it was your wedding. Hanna, what is this? Why are you marrying him?”

Hanna glanced at Patrick, who was now openly observing them. “It’s… complicated.”

Leo’s eyes hardened. “Complicated? Hanna, I know you. This isn’t you. What happened to the girl who said she would never sell out, who believed in making music for the love of it?”

“That girl grew up,” Patrick interjected smoothly, stepping between them. “She realized that dreams don’t pay the bills.”

Hanna shot Patrick a warning look, but he ignored it, his gaze fixed on Leo. “And you are?”

“An old friend,” Leo replied warmly. A“Someone who cares about Hanna, who wants to know why she’s throwing her life away on this—this sham.”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning cold. “I suggest you watch your tone, Mr…?”

“Alvarez. Leo Alvarez.”

“Mr. Alvarez,” Patrick said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Hanna and I are married now. Whatever you think you know about her life is irrelevant. She made her choice, and it was a smart one.”

Leo’s jaw tightened, and he looked at Hanna, his eyes pleading. “Is that true, Hanna? Is this really what you want?”

Hanna felt the weight of their gazes, the pressure of the decision she had made. Her heart ached with the memories of what could have been, of the life she had dreamed of with Leo. But that life was gone, and she had responsibilities now—responsibilities she couldn’t ignore.

“I did what I had to do,” she said finally, her voice barely audible. “I have to take care of my family. This was the only way.”

Leo’s face fell, a look of betrayal in his eyes. “There’s always another way, Hanna. You don’t have to sell yourself to do it.”

“Enough,” Patrick snapped, his patience wearing thin. “Hanna is my wife, and you will respect that. If you can’t, then you should leave.”

Leo’s eyes blazed with anger, but he turned to Hanna one last time. “Hanna, if you ever need anything, if you ever want out of this—”

“I’ll be fine,” Hanna interrupted, her voice firm. “Please, just go.”

Leo stared at her for a long moment, pain and frustration etched on his face. Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Patrick watched him go, his expression unreadable. “Old flames can be so… persistent,” he said, turning back to Hanna. “But you handled that well.”

Hanna didn’t respond, her mind still reeling from the encounter. Leo’s words echoed in her head, a constant reminder of what she had sacrificed.

Patrick placed a hand on her arm, his touch possessive. “Come, let’s enjoy the rest of the evening. This is a celebration, after all.”

Hanna allowed herself to be led back into the throng of guests, but her heart wasn’t in it. The joy, the excitement—none of it felt real. All she could think about was Leo, and the life she had left behind.

As the night wore on, the guests began to thin out, and Hanna found herself alone for the first time since the ceremony. She wandered to the edge of the ballroom, seeking a moment of peace away from the noise and the lights.

“Mrs. Owen.”

Hanna turned to see Patrick’s assistant, the young woman who had led her to the chapel earlier, standing beside her. She held out a small, ornate envelope.

“This was left for you,” the assistant said, her expression neutral. “A message from Mr. Alvarez.”

Hanna took the envelope, her heart racing. She opened it with trembling fingers, unfolding the piece of paper inside.

*Meet me on the rooftop. We need to talk.*

Hanna’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced around, but no one was paying her any attention. Patrick was busy talking with a group of business associates, his back to her. She slipped the note into her purse and made her way to the nearest exit, her mind racing with questions.

The rooftop terrace was empty, the night air cool against her skin. The city stretched out below her, a sea of lights and skyscrapers. She spotted Leo leaning against the railing, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the city.

“Leo,” she called softly, stepping toward him.

He turned, his expression serious. “Hanna, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene. But I had to see you, had to make sure you were okay.”

Hanna shook her head, her emotions a tangled mess. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”

“Because I still care about you,” Leo said, his voice filled with emotion. “Because I can’t stand to see you throw your life away for a man like Patrick Owen. Hanna, you don’t have to do this. We can figure something out, together.”

Hanna looked into Leo’s eyes, the sincerity in his gaze breaking down the walls she had built around herself. “Leo, it’s not that simple. My mother’s sick, my brother… They need me. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“We can find a way,” Leo insisted, taking her hands in his. “We always have. Remember when we were kids, and we used to dream about getting out of this town, making a name for ourselves? We can still do that, Hanna. Together.”

Hanna’s resolve wavered, memories of their shared dreams tugging at her heart. But the reality of her situation loomed over her, a stark reminder of the choices she had made. “I don’t know if I can…”

“Hanna,” Leo interrupted, his voice urgent. “Do you love him?”

The question hit her like a punch to the gut. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Did she love Patrick? The man she had married for convenience, for security? The answer was obvious, but saying it out loud felt like admitting defeat.

“Hanna, answer me,” Leo pressed, his grip on her hands tightening. “Do you love him?”

Hanna closed her eyes, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, her heart breaking under the weight of her choices.

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I don’t love him.”

Leo’s exp

ression softened, hope shining in his eyes. “Then come with me. Leave all this behind. We can start over, just you and me.”

Hanna looked at him.