She found him near the hall's private entrance, adjusting his gray wedding suit with the calm, unhurried composure of a groom awaiting his ceremony. Margaret grabbed his arms the moment she reached him, her breath coming in ragged gasps from the sprint through the hallway.
"Julian," she managed, her voice shaking, tears streaming freely down her face now. "Your father and your bride are inside! Stop this wedding!"
She searched his face desperately, waiting for the shock, the horror, the immediate scramble to confirm what she'd just witnessed — the reaction any groom should have upon learning something so devastating about the two people he trusted most on his wedding day.
Instead, Julian simply looked down at her, his expression shifting slowly, deliberately, from calm neutrality into something quieter and far more unsettling.