Ch: 11 The Names We Choose.

Nerissa's POV

The whole wedding thing was put together in just eleven days, but the actual ceremony was over in eleven minutes - it was pretty fitting, really, since our marriage was more about signing papers than it was about love or any real emotional connection.

We had the ceremony in the solarium, the same place where Lucien first asked me to marry him - it felt like a business deal at the time. My grandfather was seated in the front row, in a wheelchair that he still refused to admit he needed, with a blanket covering his knees even though the sun was shining brightly through the windows. The whole thing only took fifteen minutes, but Priya cried the entire time, and what really caught her off guard was that she was crying at all.

The minister said, "You can kiss the bride now." Lucien bent down and gave me a quick, polite kiss on the cheek. It was the kind of kiss you'd give to a friend, not a romantic partner. And yet, it was being captured by photographers from all around the world.

He whispered against my ear, "That should be enough evidence."

I couldn't help but laugh, it just came out, and it was a sound that had become more familiar to me over the past few weeks. I didn't feel like I had to explain it or apologize for it anymore, it was just a natural part of me now.

The news was everything we had wanted it to be. The headlines were perfect - "Vane Heiress Marries Duval Tycoon in Private Geneva Ceremony" and "Vane-Duval Marriage Set to Change the Face of European Finance". But what was really interesting was what they didn't say. Not a single article mentioned Lysander Blackwood.

He had said it would work, that his name would be enough to keep people from looking too closely, and it seemed he was right. The wall he had built was high and strong, and no one was even thinking about what might be hiding behind it.

It had been three weeks since the wedding, and I was sitting by myself in the nursery, surrounded by soft yellow walls that I had carefully chosen to avoid giving away the twins' genders. 

The twins arrived unexpectedly, six weeks ahead of schedule, on a typical Tuesday morning, right in the middle of a crucial board meeting to discuss the acquisition of Hendricks.

I was sitting in a meeting when I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my stomach, it was like a strong cramp that caught me off guard. This happened while some guy, who was filling in for Fouchard, was talking about sales numbers and stuff. I grabbed the edge of the table really tight, and Lucien, who was sitting a few seats away from me, noticed and looked up right away.

"Nerissa?"

"I'm okay," I told them, but it wasn't true - the second wave of pain hit me even harder, and in that moment, I knew I was in trouble.

"Cut the call," Lucien said, suddenly standing up and quickly walking around the table, his movements faster than I had ever seen before. "Hang up, now."

"Lucien, it's six weeks early, it's too soon"

"Don't even think about arguing with me, not now of all times," he said, his voice firm but laced with a hint of concern. His hand wrapped around my elbow, and I was struck by the steadiness of his grip, a quality I'd grown accustomed to seeing him exhibit when dealing with others, but still managed to surprise me after all these months. "Are you able to walk on your own, or do I need to carry you?" he asked, his eyes locked on mine, searching for an answer.

"I can walk," I said, and immediately proved myself wrong when the next contraction bent me forward over the table, scattering someone's quarterly projections across the floor.

He didn't say another word, just scooped me up in his arms, one hand under my knees, and walked me out of the conference room, leaving behind a room full of Europe's toughest financial bigwigs, all of them sitting there in complete shock, not knowing what to make of what had just happened.

I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement as I whispered, "This is just so humiliating."

"I don't care if you fire me over this," Lucien said, rushing up the stairs two at a time, the weight in his arms slowing him down only slightly. "My priority is getting my wife to the hospital, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

My wife. The word landed strange and warm in my chest even through the pain, even knowing what it was and wasn't.

The delivery room was overwhelming - the lights were blinding, the noises were deafening, and everything was happening so quickly. I recall bits and pieces of it, rather than a clear, coherent memory. I remember the doctor's voice, calm and steady, as she gave instructions, and the nurse counting softly to herself. But most of all, I remember Lucien's hand, tight in mine, as he whispered words of encouragement in French - words I didn't need to understand, because I felt their meaning deep within me. "You are stronger than all of them," he seemed to be saying. "Just breathe."

"The babies are small," the doctor said gently, her voice filled with a carefulness that made me pay attention. It was the kind of tone you use when you're not sure how someone will react to what you're about to say. "Since they're premature twins, they might need some extra help. We're ready for that, though. Can you keep breathing for me, Mrs. Duval?"

Mrs. Duval. Even now, even here, the name did its work.

I begged Lucien, my voice shaking, as all my calmness just melted away in that intense moment, "Please, don't leave me now."

"I'm not going anywhere." His silver eyes held mine, steady, unblinking, nothing like the split-second glance that had once turned away from me on a sinking boat. " Look at me, Nerissa. Just me. Push."

The first cry pierced the air, sharper and thinner than I had anticipated, a furious and indignant wail that suddenly broke open a part of me that I thought had long been healed, but apparently was still closed, and it was like a floodgate had been opened, releasing a rush of emotions I hadn't known were still locked away.

"A boy," the doctor announced. " Small, but strong lungs on him."

I could hardly catch my breath before the next wave crashed over me, and I clenched my fists, digging my nails into Lucien's hand so tightly that he let out a sharp hiss, his teeth gritted in pain, yet he didn't utter a word of protest.

"One more, Nerissa. One more and it's done."

She let out a second cry, this one coming less than four minutes after the first, but it was softer and more controlled, like she wanted to make a better impression than her brother had.

"A girl," the doctor said, and I heard the smile in her voice even through my own tears. " Both breathing on their own. That's remarkable for this early. Truly remarkable."

They laid the boy on my chest first, impossibly small and impossibly warm, his tiny fist already working its way free of the blanket, and I looked down into a face that was unmistakably, achingly familiar—the same sharp line of brow, the same stubborn set of the jaw I had spent five years watching across dinner tables and boardrooms and cold, silent bedrooms.

Lysander's son.

She was sitting next to him now, really quiet and watching everything around her, her eyes already wide open and looking for something. And there was something about the way she looked that felt really familiar, like it was a part of me.

"I whispered the names I had picked out months ago, 'Nicholas' and 'Nicole', my voice barely audible as I sat alone in the office, my hands resting on two tiny heartbeats that were beating rapidly under my palm."

Lucien bent down close to me, his hand gently on Nicholas's back, and his other hand softly swept a strand of hair off my forehead, which was damp with sweat. For a brief moment, it felt like the line between what was real and what wasn't had disappeared, and everything just felt true.

He whispered a gentle greeting to the twins, "Welcome to the world," and then his voice dropped to a softer tone, meant just for me, as he said, "Welcome home, Nerissa."