5

Chapter 5

Dolly's POV

The room was too white and bright. Too loud with so many guests as if we were holding a press meeting. It was like walking into heaven if heaven had a bad sense of humor.

Chandeliers the size of horses dangled from the gold-embellished ceiling, catching every glint of light and flinging it into my eyes like a taunt. Roses; no, not just roses; imported roses in obnoxiously perfect arrangements spilled across the pews and trailed along the aisle like someone thought this was a royal coronation.

Who organized this wedding, holy mother. This is wealth.

“Move,” one of the maids assigned to me to ensure I don't run away whispered behind me, nudging my arm harder than necessary.

I stumbled forward slightly, the ridiculous weight of the gown and veil dragging my body like chains. Three other maids flanked me, all dressed in ivory like angels assigned to escort me straight to hell. Or maybe prison. I wasn’t sure which I preferred anymore.

The music played softly. A piano. A violin. Something delicate that didn’t match the crowd I was walking toward. They weren’t delicate. They weren’t even pretending to be polite.

I heard the whispers and laughters. They were laughing at my misery.

“Poor thing… marrying a vegetable.” I heard a group of girls make mockery of me.

“She must’ve done something real bad for fate to give her something so fatal and undeserving.” another chimed.

“She looks like she’s walking into a grave.”

“She slept with her sister’s fiancé and now she’s marrying him? Disgusting.”

My face burned beneath the veil. They didn’t even bother to whisper anymore. They were loud so that I could hear.

I kept walking, kept putting one foot in front of the other, even though every step made my stomach twist. My fingers curled into fists. The gown itched. My throat was dry. My legs trembled, and not from nerves. From humiliation.

But I don't see any signs of him at the altar. Where was he?

He’d woken up. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I’d felt his fingers tighten around my wrist. He’d spoken. He was alive, he was aware, and he was here… wasn’t he?

The maids guided me up to the altar, hands still holding me like they didn’t trust me not to bolt. They were right. I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

I lowered my head. I couldn’t bear to look at the crowd anymore.

But then I heard a ripple of murmurs moving like a wave through the congregation.

Chairs creaked as heads turned. Someone gasped. My body tensed as I slowly lifted my eyes and turned to see what had hijacked everyone’s attention.

And there he was. Present, thank God. He was being wheeled with an aura like royalty, hard not to be pulled by it.

He was wearing a navy-blue three-piece suit that looked sinfully expensive, tailored so perfectly it was a second skin. His dark hair was neatly combed back, sharp features like they were carved by an artist with a grudge. Eyes cold. Mouth tighter than a secret. And yet he was… beautiful. Too beautiful. Like he didn’t belong to this world.

He was being pushed by a man in a tuxedo, probably his assistant. His posture in the chair was commanding, like even in a wheelchair he was the one in charge. Everyone stared. No one clapped. There was no music. Just awe, confusion… discomfort.

My lips parted before I could stop them. “Too bad he’s in a wheelchair,” I muttered under my breath. “But… I’ll manage. It's not like I have a choice.”

He stopped right in front of me. Our eyes met, and I could see the “we meet again” glare in his eyes.

The priest cleared his throat, glancing between us, uncertain. “If we may begin…”

“No,” he said, cutting him off. His voice was deep. Crisp. Impatient. “Get straight to the vows. I’m a very busy man. Let’s get this stupid wedding over with.”

Stupid wedding… I stared.

The crowd flinched. He hadn’t even looked at me when he said it. That told me how much he didn't want this too. But why couldn't he just call it off? Tell everybody here nothing happened between us.

The priest stammered, clearly thrown off. He cleared his throat and focused on his script.

“I do,” I said, my voice small but clear.

The words tasted like vinegar. I was getting married.

The priest nodded, looking relieved. “And do you…” I could tell he doesn't know what to call him, and just stared.

“I’m not religious,” my soon to be husband interrupted again, waving a hand. “Spare me the rituals. I didn’t bring these people here for a wedding. I brought them here for a special announcement.”

He turned to his assistant, who immediately handed him a sleek black folder.

I was thrown off guard by his statement. Was the wedding not happening again? Was he coming clean to the whole crowd that nothing happened between us?

The crowd started murmuring again, confusion rising like smoke.

“Dolores,” he said my name very softly.

Oh my God, he's going to confess. My heart jumped in anticipation and relief. This wedding might not be happening after all.

I looked at him. “Be a sweetheart and sign this,” he said, opening the file and holding out a pen.

I blinked. “What is it?” My hopes cut holes.

“Our marriage contract. You like legal documents, don’t you?”

I swallowed hard. Oh no! I got the whole situation wrong. My hands trembled as I took the pen. I bent slightly, trying to balance myself, trying to ignore the eyes boring into my back.

“Careful,” he said, voice cool and amused. “You might make my leg hurt even more.”

I froze slightly before I signed.

He took the pen, signed his name in two bold strokes, then shut the folder like it was just another Tuesday morning at the office.

“The marriage is sealed,” he said lazily, tossing the file to his assistant. “You're now my lawful wedded wife, Dolores.”

My mouth fell open just as the priest’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

His hands gripped the arms of the wheelchair. His body leaned slightly. My nerves began to unravel, he was going to kiss me. I thought to make a run for it, but this gown was too heavy.

And then… He stood. First one leg. Then the other. He wasn't wobbling like he was weak kneed and tired to stand. He stood very tall before me, before us all.

A murmur turned into a gasp. The gasp turned into a collective scream of disbelief. Someone dropped their phone. Someone else fainted.

I stepped backwards, to pull away from this whole drama.

He wasn’t supposed to walk. He wasn’t supposed to—

I stared, wide-eyed, as he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket like this was completely normal. Like standing up from a wheelchair wasn’t a slap to the face of every person in the room.

The murmurs turned to chaos. And I somehow could hear what sounded like Cassidy's voice. “He can walk?”

“What the hell—?”

“Was this a stunt?”

“Is this a joke?”

He didn’t even flinch. He looked around the room, calm as ice, eyes scanning the sea of stunned faces. Then they landed on me.

I didn’t know what I saw in them. Triumph? Amusement? Cruelty? All of the above?

He took a step forward. Another. The sound of his shoes against the marble echoed louder than the violins ever could.

He stopped in front of me. Leaning in slightly, he whispered into my ear. “I vow to ruin you and your family for what they did to mine.” My body locked.

“Who is this man?” A lot of people were asking too many questions.

He straightened again, raised his voice just enough for everyone to hear. “My announcement is that I, Leonardo Kieran has found myself a worthy wife.”

The room dropped as gasps flew like bullets. I gasped too; loud and stupid. My hand flew to my mouth.

Leonardo freaking Kieran?

I felt the world tilt around me. I just got married to Leonardo freaking Kieran?

Someone from the crowd shouted, “Wait, is he Leonardo Kieran?”

“I thought the man behind that massive amount of wealth was some old man!”

“Why now? After all these years, why is he suddenly showing his face?”

My biggest question was; what the hell is going in here?

He isn't actually wheelchair bound? Wait, was he pretending all along just to marry and destroy me?

He didn’t blink at the questions. He turned to me slowly, eyes like cold steel, voice like a noose tightening. “Surprise, wife.”