FIORELLA’S POV
A shocked gasp rippled through the church.
My mother swayed at the end of the aisle, a half-empty bottle dangling from her fingers. “Who doesn’t invite their own mother to their wedding? Tell me!”
Beside me, Rhys went still.
He lifted a finger, and security moved.
“You’re a bad daughter,” she kept going. “You invite your father and his family but not your mother?”
Humiliation burned through me as every head in the church turned in my direction.
The bride’s drunken mother crashing the wedding was far more entertaining than the ceremony itself.
I stood there like a statue while my entire life unraveled in front of an audience.
“I carried you for nine months!” she shouted. “Nine months! And this is how you repay me? By pretending I don’t exist?”
The guards tried to
