All of a sudden, Oscar gave her the deepest of bows, a show of respect for his bride. Hannah’s heart pounded. Charles had never treated her with such respect, despite professing his love—a love she never felt. She disliked the clothes and food he provided, yet he always sweetened his words, "forcing" her acceptance. She had mistaken it for love; it was merely a shackle, ensuring her obedience. She wore what he dictated, never deviating from his commands.
Hannah looked at the man bowing deeply. She'd always believed a man who bowed so readily was surrendering his pride. Yet, in this moment, she saw true respect, a respect a real man would show the woman he loved. She helped him up, her arms enfolding him, their heads lightly brushing. The crowd erupted in excited applause.
Outside, every street screen displayed Oscar and Hannah's wedding; the livestream surged online. Viewership exceeded that of Northfield's most popular variety show. Charles watched, too. At noon, Oscar whisked Hannah away. Charles's parents confronted Hannah's, but their bad faith yielded only frustrated departure.
Back home, consumed by rage and humiliation, they fumed. Years of manipulation had ended with their near-victory snatched away. Charles seethed, consumed by a desire for vengeance. He still believed Hannah would regret her choice, that he would make her life miserable should she return.
He randomly searched online, finding a video of their wedding. Had it not been a close-up of Hannah, he wouldn't have recognized it; he mistook it for a royal wedding. He felt Oscar was deliberately targeting him. Charles gritted his teeth. This wedding had publicly exposed his rejection, humiliating him amongst the elite.
He stared at Hannah on screen, her dazzling gown dwarfing his own preparations. He lamented his lack of effort, wishing he’d orchestrated a grander affair. A wide shot of the extravagant hall left him reeling, his inadequacy undeniable. He couldn't—wouldn't—admit Oscar's superiority, attributing it solely to his wealth as the son of a Wells family patriarch, one of the four most influential families. Charles vowed to surpass Oscar, one day placing him beneath his feet.
In the banquet, the Father announced the ceremony's end. Hannah observed Oscar, a seemingly happy smile gracing his face—a stark contrast to the cold, uncaring man she remembered. He looked delightful. "Hannah Wells," he called, his voice thrilled. "You married me, so you’ll never leave me." Hannah thought, ‘Can he stop acting?’
Oscar took her hand, a gesture she expected to reject. Yet, she felt no disgust as he held her hand tightly. The camera focused on their intertwined hands, the palpable love provoking envy in the crowd. He led her towards the stage amidst applause, flowers, and fireworks.
Hannah expected him to take her to the dressing room for a change of attire, then return to greet guests. Instead, he led her out of the hotel to a waiting Rolls Royce. Mester, his butler, impeccably dressed, opened the door, respectfully addressing them as "Mr. and Mrs. Wells."
Hannah was stunned. She had married Oscar. As he helped her into the car, noting the length of her gown, Mester approached to assist. Before she could refuse, Oscar knelt, meticulously adjusting her hemline. Mester, too, was shocked, visibly taking a deep breath, his eyes briefly closed. He couldn't believe his master's heartfelt devotion to Hannah.