You clutched the bouquet of white and gold roses tightly as you began to walk down the aisle with your father Richmond Monroe. The soft silk of your wedding dress glided over your body, framing your silhouette in an elegant and effortless way. As you drew closer to the altar, your eyes met the steely gaze of Arthur Kentwood. For a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his usually impassive expression. But it was so fleeting, you wondered if it was just a play of light on the sharp angles of his face.