Chapter Nineteen: A Real Wedding

The scent of blooming lilies and fresh-cut roses filled the late spring air, mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet tuning in the distance. Damien stood at the edge of the private garden, overlooking the gentle stream that curved along the grounds of the Cross estate. Sunlight bathed the scene in a warm, golden glow. It was perfect. But it wasn't the view that had his chest tightening, it was the knowledge that today, Lia would become his wife for real.

No contracts. No terms. No conditions.

Ethan adjusted Damien's cufflink for the third time, earning a narrowed glance.

"You know, for a man who's handled billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, you look like you're about to faint," Ethan teased.

Damien smirked, tugging at his collar. "This is different. This isn't business. This is...everything."

Ethan's grin softened. "And you deserve it."

Damien didn't respond. He was already looking past Ethan, toward the arched trellis where Lia would walk through any minute.

Inside the estate's bridal suite, Lia stood in front of the mirror, her mother fussing with the delicate lace on her sleeves. The dress was soft ivory, not white, and the neckline dipped modestly above her collarbone. Simple, elegant. Her hair was in a loose updo with strands framing her face, and her veil was pinned with a silver comb Damien had given her.

"You look like a dream," Mrs. Morgan whispered, her eyes shimmering. "Your father would be so proud."

Lia swallowed the lump in her throat. "Do you think this is real? After everything?"

Her mother touched her cheek. "It's real because you chose each other, through the storm and the silence. That's love, Lia. Not perfection, but persistence."

Gloria entered the room with a small box. "This just arrived. Damien had it sent."

Inside was a note written in Damien's precise handwriting: For your nerves. Just in case.

Beneath it sat a tiny velvet pouch. Lia opened it to reveal a silver pendant shaped like a compass.

"So you never lose your way back to me."

Her breath caught. He remembered.

"Okay," Lia said softly. "Let's do this."

The garden was filled with close friends and select family, no media, no press. Vanessa was absent by choice, and that made things smoother. Mrs. Morgan sat beside Ethan, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Even Gloria was out of her apron and into a soft lavender dress, standing tall and proud.

The music changed.

Damien turned.

And there she was.

Lia stepped onto the grassy aisle, her hand clutching a small bouquet of white peonies and blush roses. Her eyes met his, and everything else faded. There were no guests. No past. Just her. And him.

When she reached him, she smiled. "You look nervous."

He leaned in. "I've never wanted anything more in my life."

The officiant began the ceremony. The usual words were said, but everything felt personal. When it came time for vows, Damien stepped forward.

"I once believed love was a myth designed to weaken powerful men. Then you came into my life like a storm, unexpected, chaotic, and unforgettable. You broke my walls with kindness. You taught me that trust isn't given, it's earned, and love isn't forced, it's felt. Today, I vow to choose you every day, to protect your fire, your flaws, and your fierce heart."

Lia's voice trembled when she replied. "I once thought love was only for those with perfect lives, perfect timing. But you showed me that real love shows up in brokenness, in truth, in trying again. I promise to keep choosing you, even when it's hard, even when we're lost, because my heart knows the way to you."

They slid rings onto trembling fingers.

"You may kiss..."

Damien didn't wait. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply. It wasn't a perfect kiss. It was breathless. Real. The kind of kiss that held the weight of everything they had been and everything they were becoming.

The guests stood and cheered. Even Ethan wiped a suspicious tear.

The reception was held under fairy lights and hanging lanterns. Tables were filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and stories about the couple's dramatic journey. At one point, Mrs. Morgan pulled Damien aside.

"I was wrong about you," she said gently. "You're not the cold man I once feared. You're family now."

He nodded, humbled. "Thank you for trusting me with her."

She smiled. "Just don't stop fighting for her."

Later that night, Lia found Damien standing alone under the willow tree near the stream.

She walked up quietly. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He turned. "Just wondering if this is what peace feels like."

She looped her arm through his. "Feels a lot like love to me."

He kissed her temple. "You're my home now."

And in the silence, with stars blinking overhead and laughter echoing from the garden, Damien Cross and Lia Morgan, once cold hearts bound by a contract, stood together as partners, lovers, and now, husband and wife.

No more pretending.

Just forever.