Chapter 30

Sienna’s POV

The hospital room had been cold. Sterile. Unforgiving.

The fluorescent lights buzzed above me as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Every part of me ached, from my burned skin to the exhaustion that clung to my bones. But I didn’t have time to wallow.

I had made a decision.

I was getting married today.

No matter what Hester had done, no matter what had happened to Max, no matter how much the universe seemed determined to stop this wedding—I wasn’t letting anyone take this from me.

Harry had looked at me like I was insane when I told him.

“You just got out of the hospital,” he had said, exasperated.

“And?” I’d countered. “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re impossible.”

I had smiled, despite everything. “So I’ve been told.”

And with that, he had helped me get dressed, helped me walk out of that hospital, and helped me step back into the disaster of my life—ready to face whatever came next.

When I got home, the first thing I saw was Max, looking like he had just walked through hell. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and there were faint bruises on his knuckles.

“Max?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

He turned, raising an eyebrow. “Well, look who’s finally back from the dead.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re one to talk.”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “I always come back.”

I rolled my eyes. “What happened to you?”

He exhaled dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Sienna, do you care about me? Are you worried? Do I finally have a place in that cold, cold heart of yours?”

I sighed. “Max.”

He grinned. “Fine, fine. You want the truth?”

“Yes.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Someone tried to kill me.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He nodded. “Sabotaged my bus, stole my passport, took my phone, and then—get this—sent a bunch of knife-wielding goons after me in the middle of the desert.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“No, Sienna,” he said dryly. “I made it all up for fun.

Thought it’d add a little spice to the wedding.”

I scowled. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, spreading his arms.

“Alive. Handsome. Ready to be your husband.”

I shook my head, but a small part of me—a very small part—was relieved he was okay.

“Did you find out who was behind it?” I asked.

Max’s smirk faded slightly. “Not yet. But I will.”

I nodded, knowing that was the best answer I was going to get for now.

Then he grinned again. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be getting ready to be the luckiest woman alive?”

I sighed. “I hate you.”

“You wish you hated me,” he teased. “Now go. Make yourself pretty for me.”

I shoved him lightly before walking away, trying not to think about the fact that despite everything—despite my resentment, my frustration, my absolute exhaustion—there was something about Max that made it impossible to ignore him.

The preparation was nothing like I had dreamed.

As a little girl, I had imagined a perfect wedding. A fairytale dress. A warm, glowing morning. A man who looked at me like I was his entire world.

Instead, I sat stiffly in a chair as a swarm of attendants worked on me, my eyes watering as I stared at my reflection.

A girl I barely recognized stared back.

Her hair was styled to perfection, her makeup flawless. The dress they had chosen for me was elegant, flowing around me like something out of a magazine.

I looked beautiful.

And I had never felt less like myself.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

I had wanted a wedding filled with love, with family who cherished me, with a future I actually wanted. Instead, I was walking into a contract, a business deal wrapped up in white lace.

But this was my reality.

And crying about it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

I wiped my tears before anyone could notice.

Before I left for the church, I found Max in his room, already dressed in his tux.

I hesitated in the doorway. “You clean up well.”

He turned, smirking. “I always clean up well.”

I walked in, crossing my arms. “So, are you going to tell me what really happened on that trip?”

He sighed dramatically. “You ask so many questions, Sienna.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Short version—I almost died. Got chased through the desert. Fought some guys. Won, obviously.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You almost died?”

“Almost,” he emphasized. “But I didn’t. So let’s not dwell on the past, yeah?”

I exhaled. “Max...”

He smirked. “You worried about me, darling?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not even a little.”

“Liar.”

I ignored him. “You really think someone’s trying to stop the wedding?”

“Oh, I know someone is,” he said. “And when I find out who, they’ll regret it.”

I shivered at the promise in his voice.

For all his teasing, all his dark humor, I knew one thing for certain—Max was dangerous when he was angry.

And right now?

He was very angry.

***

The drive to the church was quiet.

Harry sat in the front seat, occasionally glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “You okay?” he asked.

I let out a shaky breath. “Define okay.”

He smiled slightly. “You’re almost there.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Almost.”

The city blurred past, the weight of the wedding pressing down on me with every passing second.

Then, finally, we arrived.

The church loomed ahead, grand and pristine, its doors open wide.

Max had arrived before me, of course. He was probably inside, charming the guests, making this entire circus look effortless.

I inhaled deeply, staring at the entrance.

This was it.

The moment I officially became Mrs. Maxwell Hollandale.

I clenched my fists, forcing down every emotion. The whole world was watching.

Then, without another thought—

I stepped out of the car.