Chapter 37: A Ceremony Without Armor
Eliza didn't wear a traditional gown.
There was no cathedral train.
No tiara.
No lace gloves to soften the edge of who she was.
Instead, she wore a crisp ivory jumpsuit—tailored to perfection. Clean lines. Sleek silhouette. Modern strength wrapped in elegance.
And tucked into her curls, like a whisper from another time, was the lace veil Jan had given her.
Something old.Something true.
The ceremony wasn't in a church.It wasn't in a ballroom either.
It was held on the rooftop of the building where Will had first pitched her his nonprofit proposal—where their rivalry had sparked and fate, unknowingly, had begun weaving something permanent.
The city skyline stood behind them, a witness in light and steel.
Only forty guests sat in rows of ghost chairs. No aisle runner. No dramatic fanfare.
Just a soft breeze.Muted violins.And the slow, sure beat of Eliza's heels against the rooftop floor as she walked toward him.
No one gave her away.
She wasn't being given.
She was choosing.
Will stood at the end of that rooftop space in a deep charcoal suit, his hands clasped in front of him—except they trembled.
Not from nerves.
From awe.
Because when he looked at her, he didn't see the tech queen or the business headline.
He saw her.
The woman who'd let him in.
Who now wore her power like silk, not steel.
She reached him, her gaze steady.
They didn't speak right away.
They just breathed.
Together.
When the officiant gave the floor to Eliza, she took a breath so deep it shook the veil pinned behind her ear.
But she didn't look at the crowd.
Only at him.
Her voice, when it came, was quiet.
But unflinching.
"I used to believe love was a risk I couldn't afford. That emotion was something to hide. That intimacy belonged to people with softer lives."
A pause.
She held his gaze.
"And then I met you. And I realized I hadn't been avoiding love—I'd been starving for it."
A breeze stirred her hair.
"I choose you not because I need peace… but because with you, I learned what it really means."
Will's jaw clenched.
She kept going.
"I vow to fight beside you, not above you. To build without armor. To be seen, even when it terrifies me. And to love you without strategy, condition, or apology."
Her hands shook slightly as she reached for his.
"But mostly? I vow to keep choosing you. On the days it's easy. And on the days it isn't."
Will didn't pretend he could top her vow.
His voice cracked on the first line.
But he didn't need poetry.
Only honesty.
"You taught me that power isn't cold. That strength doesn't have to come from standing alone. And that love, real love, is showing up when it's hard."
He stepped closer, his thumb brushing her knuckles.
"I promise to show up for you, Eliza. Every version of you. I promise to keep building—not just a life. A home."
They exchanged rings in a silence that didn't feel empty, but reverent.
And when the officiant said, "You may kiss," Will didn't wait.
He kissed her like she was the beginning and the end.
And Eliza kissed him back like she'd never worn armor at all.
Later, when the champagne glasses clinked and city lights bled into the sky, someone asked Eliza how it felt.
She looked at her ring.
Then at the man now wrapped in her arms.
And whispered, "Like freedom."