💐 The Little Officiant: Beth Spencer’s Wedding Veto

The Forrester mansion living room had been transformed into a romantic chapel. Cascades of white roses and shimmering silk draped every surface. It was the latest attempt by Liam Spencer and Hope Logan to finally solidify their future, a ceremony meant to wipe clean the slate of past betrayals, custody battles, and the persistent ghost of Thomas’s obsession.

The guests—a nervous assembly of Forresters, Logans, and Spencers—were seated. Brooke wore a look of intense, hopeful vigilance; Steffy wore an expression of polite, yet intense, skepticism. Ridge simply looked tired.

The music swelled, and Hope, ethereal in a simple gown, began her walk down the aisle. But just as she reached the altar, the ceremony took a sharp, unexpected turn.

The official officiant, a nervous Justice of the Peace named Mr. Henderson, stepped forward to begin the proceedings. He didn’t get far.

A small, firm hand grabbed his robe.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Beth Spencer, seven years old, perfectly polished in a white dress, but wearing a look of absolute, unyielding authority. “You can go sit down now.”

Mr. Henderson blinked. “I’m sorry, dear?”

“My mommy and daddy decided,” Beth announced to the stunned room, her voice carrying clearly. “They decided I’m the officiant.”

Hope, already slightly bewildered, tried to smile reassuringly. “Sweetie, that’s so cute, but Mr. Henderson needs to—“

“No, Mommy,” Beth interrupted, planting her small feet firmly. “You and Daddy always say this wedding is about making our family safe and forever. And I’m the only person who can make sure the right rules are written down.”

Liam stepped forward, his face etched with confusion and sudden, panicked humor. “Bethy, you’re the most important flower girl! But let the grown-ups handle the marriage license, okay?”

“The flower girl just throws flowers,” Beth stated, adjusting the miniature pearl headband on her curls. “The Officiant makes sure no one tries to steal the other person, like in those stories Grandma Brooke tells.”

The room erupted in suppressed snickers and anxious murmurs. Beth, however, was deadly serious. She was tired of the chaos. She had endured the trauma of being separated from her mother, the confusion of her parents’ on-again, off-again status, and the constant fear that someone—usually Thomas or an angry rival—was coming to break up their happiness.

This was her moment. She wasn’t throwing flowers; she was drawing boundaries.

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📜 The Officiant’s Rules

Beth dismissed the hapless Mr. Henderson with a simple wave of her hand and climbed onto the low marble step of the altar. She pulled a folded piece of construction paper—decorated with glitter and marker drawings—from her dress pocket.

“Okay. The ceremony starts now,” she declared. “The first thing is the vows. I wrote them.”

Liam and Hope exchanged a helpless, yet loving glance, deciding to indulge their daughter in what would surely be a memorable, if slightly unorthodox, ceremony.

“Liam, promise this first thing,” Beth commanded, pointing a miniature finger at her father. “Say: ‘I promise to only live in one house, and it can’t be the cliff house, because that one smells like Steffy’s perfume and I can’t tell Mommy’s hugs from her hugs when we are there.’”

The room gasped. Steffy’s face tightened instantly.

“Beth!” Liam sputtered, trying to maintain control while stifling a laugh. “I love our house!”

“But you keep going there to talk to Steffy, Daddy!” Beth insisted, oblivious to the political firestorm she had just ignited. “The Officiant says boundaries are important.”

Steffy rose from her seat, her voice dangerously calm. “Hope, Liam, this is entirely inappropriate. Beth, that’s a very unkind thing to say.”

“She’s the one who said that to me, Mommy,” Beth whispered to Hope, but loud enough for the room to hear. “She said, ‘Daddy needs to come home where he belongs,’ and she kept giving me a doll that looked like her.”

Brooke shot Steffy a triumphant glare. Ridge pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I promise, Beth,” Liam said quickly, shooting Steffy an apologetic, warning glance. “No more cliff house sleepovers. Ever.”

“Good. Now, Mommy, your turn,” Beth announced, pointing to Hope. “You have to promise not to look at Cousin Thomas when he brings you drawings. Say: ‘I promise that drawings only go in the trash, and I only hug my husband when I’m scared.’”

This time, the sound of an actual feud ignited.

Thomas stood up, outraged. “That’s rich, Beth! That’s Brooke feeding you lines! I’ve been stable for months! I’m the Creative Director! My drawings are essential!”

Brooke, seeing her opening, sprang to her feet. “She is a child speaking the truth, Thomas! She knows the danger you represent!”

“You are attacking a child through her mother, Brooke!” Thomas yelled back.

“I am protecting my child from a stalker!”

The Ultimate Veto

The entire ceremony had devolved into a full-scale family war, just as Beth, in her childlike wisdom, seemed to have intended. Liam and Hope stared at their feuding family, realizing their little girl had just exposed the raw, untreated wounds of their relationship.

Beth, however, was undeterred. She clapped her hands sharply, bringing the room to silence.

“No fighting during the marriage part!” Beth commanded. “Now, the veto clause.”

She cleared her throat and read from her glitter-covered paper: “‘If anyone breaks any of the rules, or tries to make Mommy cry again, or says bad things about the other family, then the marriage is null and void until the bad person goes to timeout for a long, long time.’”

She looked directly at her parents. “The Officiant has the power to decide if the rules are broken.”

“Wait, Beth,” Liam said, suddenly realizing the gravity of her self-appointed authority. “You can’t veto the marriage! We need to be legally married!”

“I am the legal part, Daddy,” Beth insisted, her eyes wide and innocent. “And the final rule is the most important.”

She fixed her gaze on the one person whose presence was most controversial, but who had been quietly present for the whole ceremony: Deacon Sharpe, her grandfather, and Sheila’s recent associate.

“Grandpa Deacon,” Beth commanded. “You have to promise not to let the bad lady come back. And you have to promise not to talk to her on the phone when I’m around, because she makes Mommy sad.”

Deacon, who had been trying desperately to blend into the background, felt the spotlight on him. Tears welled in his eyes, not from shame, but from the realization of the collateral damage of his choices.

“I promise, Beth,” Deacon whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise on my life. She will not hurt your mother again.”

Beth nodded, satisfied with his sincere pledge.

She turned back to Liam and Hope, the chaos she created subsiding into a fragile, emotional peace. The whole room was exhausted, humbled, and acutely aware of the deep-seated issues Beth had mercilessly dragged into the light.

“Okay,” Beth announced, slamming her paper down onto the marble altar. “I, Officiant Beth Spencer, declare you married and safe for now. Now, you can kiss. And no one can break the rules for a whole day.”

The wedding was over. It wasn’t legally binding (Mr. Henderson quickly rectified that in a rushed document signing moments later), but the true ceremony—the purification, the boundary-setting, the airing of grievances—had been performed by the tiny, wise little girl who refused to be the victim of family drama again.

As Hope and Liam finally shared their kiss—a kiss that felt more earned, more necessary, and more fragile than any before—they knew the real Mastermind of Chaos had been their own daughter, who had forced them to confront the truth under the guise of an adorable wedding game. Their marriage would survive only if they adhered to the strict, emotionally necessary rules laid down by the only person who truly understood the fragility of their love: Beth.