Chapter 149 The Wedding On The 80Th Floor
Genevieve stood in front of the gilded mirror, her breath shallow as her fingers trembled at the sheer fabric draping her collarbone. The gown, custom, ivory, liquid silk, hugged her hourglass frame with sinful elegance. Crystals whispered down the bodice in hand-stitched vines, catching firelight from the chandelier above her. Her skin glowed with a soft sheen, the makeup subtle but precise, as though she’d stepped out of a dream conjured in moonlight.
The wedding suite on the 80th floor was a palace in the clouds. Glass walls, ivory roses blooming from golden urns, and a view that rolled out like eternity. But the air held more than joy. Beneath the beauty pulsed an edge—like a violin string pulled just shy of snapping.
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