Now she knew that everything was theater. Richard Miller, her father, waited for her to take her to the altar. At 60 years old, he had built an empire of three gas stations and two coffee shops in the city. Simple man who started washing cars and arrived up to where he was with much work. “My princess, you are beautiful,” said Richard, offering her the arm. “Thanks, Dad.
” Valentina took his arm, trying to control the voice. While they walked through the nave of the church, she observed the known faces from the side of her family, uncles, cousins, childhood friends, from the side of Alexander, much fewer people. His mother, Mrs. Carmen, who always treated her with coldness disguised as politeness.
Some relatives and friends. Julian and Dylan were near the altar trying to look normal. When Dylan saw her arrive, he lowered the look, clearly uncomfortable. At least one of them had conscience. Alexander continued smiling with that pose of excited groom. What a talented actor. When they arrived at the altar, Richard kissed the forehead of his daughter and handed her hand to Alexander.