Game of fate

log

of his future hanging in the threshold of the wi

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t 15,

expanded their relationship and enterprise through the union of their children, Douglas

t. I knew Vivian had a way of getting whatever she wanted, but this was by far her best victory. What was I thinking? She is the only child of Christia

the golden child no one ever doubted. Vivian knew convincing my dad wouldn't be a problem as long as it i

est said, "Do you take Vivian Lane as your l

ation-there was no going back from here. As the priest said, "I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride," I looked at Vivian. She flashed me a mischievous smile of satisfaction and accomplishment as she l

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ng Re

reception wa

ne china, crystal glas

er arrangements that

ulpture that shimm

erforming on a

tain that flowed

ed a pastry shop,A dazzling light sh

d chefs, paired with fine wines and champagnes. The dance floor was a whirlw

hristine in a floral dress, her ginger hair dancing and twirling to the rhythm. Her hair moved in sync with the music, smiling like a gentle breeze on autumn leaves, her smile as bright as the summer sky with a

Douglas," he said, "come say hi to the guests." Time went by, and the wedding was fina

in the beautiful refinement of Mayfair.

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ar L

ce would pay off. Now it had, but a part of me was still missing. Christine was a beautiful young lady, exuding grace and elegance. Her features were defined and delicate; she carried herself with poise and confidence, making everyone around her feel

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r from

have a letter from Christine Armstrong."

ber 1

know, our relationship ended some time ago, but I have since discovered that I was pregnant wit

ew York City, in pursuit of a better life for myself and our child. This was not an eas

ing to facilitate communication and updates about our child's life. If you are interested in bei

you can find it in your heart to be supportive of our

faith

ine Arm

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part of my son's life. This was to keep Christine and Dominic safe because if my father found out, I didn't know wh

nd disgust filled my stomach. God, that woman was a demon sent from h

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s Pa

is mother's name, Dominic Armstrong, he knew he had a rich father somewhere. I ensured he lived the life of a trust fund kid. For his 17th birthday, I got him a brand new black Ferrari 458

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's 18th

elt a rollercoaster of emotions-my heart soared with joy but also ached with sadness. I was excited about what was next but also nervous about the unknown. I had spent years apart from my son, a