Ch: 7 THE SECOND WEDDING.

Seraphina's POV

I didn't sleep. I lay in the guest bed with my phone on my chest and watched the ceiling go from black to gray.

At seven, I called my father.

He answered before the first ring ended. "Seraphina?"

"Dad. It's me."

"Where are you? Are you hurt?" His voice cracked. "Do you know what kind of night I had?"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Julian drove to every hospital in the city."

Of course he did. I pressed my palm against my eyes. "I'm not hurt, Dad. I'm safe."

"Then why did you run?"

I had practiced this answer in the dark. Every version sounded worse out loud.

"I found out something about Julian."

Silence. Then, carefully: "What?"

"I can't tell you yet."

"You left a hall full of people, and you can't tell me why?"

"I know how it sounds."

"Seraphina, that boy cried last night. I saw him."

"He can cry whenever he needs to," I said. "Please remember that."

My father went quiet. I listened to him breathe.

"That is a terrible thing to say about him."

"I know."

"You'd better have a good reason."

"I do. I'll show you when I can."

"Where are you staying?"

"With someone who can help me."

"Who?"

"I can't say yet."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the one I have." I had borrowed that from Lucius. It fit better than I wanted it to.

My father sighed. "Come home tonight."

"I can't."

"Seraphina?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever this is, I'm still your father."

I pressed my lips together until I trusted my voice. "I know, Dad. I love you."

After I hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed and cried for exactly one minute. Then I washed my face.

Lucius was in the hallway when I came out, holding two cups of coffee. He didn't ask if I had been crying. He just handed me one.

"Your father?"

"He wants me home."

"Do you want to go?"

"No."

"Good." He turned toward the stairs. "You have a wedding tomorrow. My assistant is bringing clothes."

On Monday morning, I stood in front of the mirror in a deep red dress.

It was the only one I had picked myself. Priya, from Lucius's office, had brought ten dresses the day before. Nine of them were white. I sent all nine back.

Lucius was waiting at the front door in a black suit. When I came down the stairs, he looked at me for three full seconds.

"You didn't pick white," he said.

"I'm done with white."

"Good. It never suited you."

I raised an eyebrow. "You've seen me in white?"

"At charity events. You wore it every spring." He opened the door. "Come on."

The wedding room at city hall had gray carpet, a flag, and a vase of plastic flowers nobody had dusted. There were five of us. The registrar, Daniel the lawyer, Priya, Lucius and me.

Daniel looked like he hadn't slept either. He handed me a stack of papers. "This protects your shares and everything Mr. Thorne is buying. It's long and it's boring."

"Read it," Lucius said.

"I will."

"Every page."

"Every page."

I did. It took fifteen minutes, and nobody rushed me. In my first life, I had signed whatever Julian slid across the table, and I had smiled while I did it.

When I finished, I signed my name. Seraphina Delaine. Beside it, Lucius signed in a hard, quick hand.

The registrar cleared her throat. "Shall we?"

We stood side by side. She read the words, and they were short.

"Do you, Lucius Thorne, take Seraphina Delaine as your wife?"

"I do."

He said it right away, in a flat voice. But his hand was not steady. I noticed that, and I said nothing.

"Do you, Seraphina Delaine, take Lucius Thorne as your husband?"

I waited for the fear. It didn't come.

"I do."

"Rings?"

Lucius took a small box from his jacket. I stared at him.

"You said there wasn't time."

"Daniel's jeweler." He opened the box. Inside lay a plain gold band with no stones.

"No diamond?"

"You didn't strike me as a diamond person."

"I wasn't. Julian gave me one. It's sitting on your kitchen counter as evidence."

His mouth twitched. He slid the band onto my finger. It fit perfectly, with no gap at all. I looked at the ring, then at him.

"Lucky guess."

"Daniel's jeweler is good."

He didn't meet my eyes when he said it.

"You may kiss the bride," the registrar said.

Neither of us moved. Lucius looked at me, and I understood he was asking, not assuming.

"It's part of the deal," I said quietly.

"It isn't."

"Then I want to."

I rose onto my toes and kissed him. It was short. His hand stayed on my waist a second longer than it needed to. Behind us, Daniel found something interesting on the ceiling.

When I stepped back, Lucius's face was calm. His ears were red.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Thorne," Daniel said on the steps outside.

"It's Delaine."

"The paperwork says Thorne," Lucius said.

"Then the paperwork is wrong."

"Keep Delaine in public." He slid on his sunglasses. "Julian won't think to look for a Thorne."

The car ride home was quiet. Lucius answered emails. I watched the city go by and turned the new ring around on my finger.

"Does it feel strange?" he asked, without looking up.

"A little. I'm married, and I haven't even had lunch."

He put his phone away. Then he tapped the glass and told the driver, "Pull over at the first place with a sign."

The first place with a sign was a hot dog stand. Lucius Thorne, the Devil of Wall Street, stood in a black suit behind a man in a baseball jersey and ordered two with everything.

"You hate this," I said.

"I don't hate it."

"Your hands are in your pockets."

"I'm being careful."

I laughed so hard I had to hold his sleeve. He pretended not to notice, but he didn't pull away. Then he took a napkin and wiped mustard off my chin, as if it were a business task. I stopped laughing. He went back to his hot dog.

That night, he walked me up to the guest room. It was the same room, the same bed, the same bathroom with the same cold floor.

"Your room hasn't changed," he said. "Mine is across the hall. The lock on your door works from the inside."

"A husband who gives his wife a lock."

"A husband who wants his wife to sleep."

He said goodnight and left. I stood there a while, listening to him walk away. Then I turned the lock, and for the first time in weeks, I slept.

Two weeks later, the whole city knew about the runaway bride.

It was the favorite story at every dinner table. Seraphina Delaine, running out of her own wedding in a ruined dress. Some people said I had gone mad. Some said I had found another man. A few said Julian had been left broken, which was the version Julian preferred.

Lucius and I had agreed to stay apart in public. His shares needed three more weeks to settle. Until then, nobody should see his name next to mine. So on the night of the Hartwell Foundation dinner, I walked in alone, with a gold ring hanging on a thin chain under my collar.

The driver held the door for me. "Mr. Thorne says I wait here until you leave, miss. Even if it's four in the morning."

"Tell him thank you."

"He said you'd say that."

Inside the ballroom, the whispers started before I reached the first table. Conversations stopped. People looked at me, then looked away too fast. Near the champagne table, two women stopped talking as I passed. One of them was Clara Whitmore. She used to call me every week. I hadn't heard from her since the wedding. She gave me a tight smile and turned her back.

I kept my chin up and took a glass of water from a passing waiter.

I had survived worse than gossip. I had survived a fire.

"Seraphina!"

I knew that voice. The last time I had heard it, it was laughing in a basement.

Lillian crossed the floor in a silver gown with her arms already open. She hugged me before I had time to step back. Her perfume was sweet and thick. My stomach turned, but I kept my arms at my sides and my face soft.

"I've been so worried," she said. "Do you know how scared we were?"

"I'm fine."

"You look fine." She held me at arm's length and studied my face. She was looking for a crack. "You look different."

"Do I?"

"Your hair. Your dress." She smiled. "Everyone says you ran off with a man."

"Do I look like I did?"

"You look like you're hiding something."

"Everyone is hiding something, Lillian."

She laughed, a little too loud. "It suits you."

"Thank you."

"Where have you been staying?" Lillian asked, too casually.

"With a friend."

"Which friend?"

"Someone from school. You wouldn't know her."

"I know everyone you know."

"Not anymore."

A small line appeared between her eyebrows, then smoothed away.

"Julian isn't here," she said, as if I had asked. "He couldn't face it. He hardly eats."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

I wasn't. But Lillian was watching me, waiting for guilt to show on my face. So I gave her some. Not much. Just the amount the old Seraphina would have shown.

Her eyes brightened.

"I feel terrible about everything," Lillian said, and her voice went soft.

"Lunch tomorrow. Please."

There it was again. Please. Two words from her in one month.

"Lunch," I said. "I'd like that."

She squeezed my hand. "One o'clock. I'll text you the place."

"Okay."

She kissed my cheek and walked away through the crowd. She hadn't even reached her table when she pulled out her phone and started typing.