CHAPTER FOUR

The dress was borrowed. That was the first thing Ella noticed in the mirror at city hall… pale white fabric hanging off her shoulders, belonging to some stranger from a rental shop two blocks away. It felt about right. Nothing about today belonged to her either.

“He has all the money in the world, yet he couldn’t even buy me a decent dress?” Ella muttered under her breath.

Her father sat in a wheelchair by the window, three days out of surgery, and he was thinner than she’d ever seen him. His color was back in his cheeks for the first time in weeks.

She had asked the doctor for permission to bring her father to the wedding. She owed him that much… to let him be part of her big day. Even if it didn’t feel like her big day, at least to him it did. The doctor had granted it on the condition that a nurse must be with him throughout, just in case.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice had that fragile, careful sound. “Your mother would be so proud of you.”

“I might cry,” Ella admitted, smoothing her dress with hands that wouldn’t quite stay still.

“Good tears, hun,” he said as his smile widened. “I am so proud of you, Ella.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know how to.

Her father didn’t know the truth… not the whole truth. The confidentiality clause had made sure of that. He knew Ethan Blackwood had generously paid for his surgery. She’d told him they had been seeing each other secretly, and had only just decided to make it public.

“Why didn’t you tell me at least? You never hide anything from me, hun,” he asked, tilting his head at her, the way he always did when something didn’t quite add up to him.

“I am so sorry, Dad. I really just wanted to be sure before telling you anything.” Ella’s voice cracked.

“Are you sure now?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.

Ella didn’t answer right away. She thought about the question. She knew what she was getting into, but was she sure?

Honestly, she didn’t have the answer, but she wasn’t about to give her father any reason to doubt this.

“Yes, I am sure, Dad,” she said, her voice steady.

***

The memory faded as quickly as it came. Ella blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes. Her father was still sitting there quietly watching her with that same proud smile.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Miss Ella?” A woman’s voice, calm and warm. “It’s time.”

“Okay,” Ella said as she took a deep breath. This is really happening.

***

Ethan waited at the front of a small, plain room… no flowers, no music, just an officiant with reading glasses and a short stack of forms, two witnesses pulled from his office staff. He wore a dark suit, nothing loosened, everything about him buttoned down and precise.

He didn’t smile when she walked in. But something in his eyes moved over her, quick and unreadable, before his face settled back into its usual stillness.

“You look nice,” he said quietly, once she reached him. His voice was sharp and cold.

“You don’t have to say that,” Ella said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Ethan stared at her before leaning close to her ear. “Don’t flatter yourself, you are not that special.”

The words hit harder than she wanted to admit.

Ella took a quick step back, forcing herself to keep a straight face.

The officiant cleared his throat and began reading from the standard script. He talked about words about commitment and partnership that sounded strange. Ella barely heard most of it. She looked back, and she saw her father wipe his eyes with the back of one hand, believing every word, and the guilt in her chest grew heavier.

“Do you, Ethan Blackwood, take Ella Wright as your wife?”

“I do.” He said with no hesitation. His tone was certain.

“Do you, Ella Wright, take Ethan Blackwood as your husband?”

Her voice caught. For one terrible second, she couldn’t get the words out at all, standing there in a stranger’s dress in the middle of a stranger’s life. Then she looked past Ethan’s shoulder at her father’s face. He was alive. He was breathing all thanks to this man standing in front of her.

“I do.”

It was done. A ring… plain, simple, chosen by an assistant clearly told to keep it modest. He slid it onto her finger, cold and unfamiliar. Ethan’s hand briefly closed around hers as he slipped it on. For a strange second, his fingers weren’t cold. They were warm. Warmer than she’d expected from a man who was always cold.

When the officiant handed her the ring, she slipped it onto Ethan’s finger with trembling fingers. He remained expressionless.

“Congratulations, I hereby announce  you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The room went quiet.

Ella's eyes widened. Ethan leaned in, no sign of hesitation on his face, his hand came up, just barely, resting against her jaw. His lips pressed against hers, and it was soft and warm. She froze. It felt like the blood flowing through her veins had frozen for about two seconds, then he pulled out. Ella took a sharp inhale, feeling like he sucked all the oxygen out of her lungs.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood,” he said, quiet enough that only she could hear it.

Her father clapped, tears streaming down his cheeks.

They walked out of the small ceremony room.

Ella smiled for him. She kept smiling through the marriage certificate, through the two quick photos. A small crowd had gathered near the courthouse steps… a photographer, Ethan’s assistant, had arranged for the announcement photos, and a couple of reporters who’d caught wind of Blackwood's wedding were there.

Ella held her father’s wheelchair steady with one hand and let Ethan’s arm settle at her back with the other, smiling the practiced smile she’d been wearing all day.

Her eyes went to the small crowd, scanning it out of habit more than anything.

And then she saw a dark, lean figure… a familiar one, his back facing her. Something about the shape of his shoulders made her chest go tight. Then he turned, and she met his gaze… those same sea-green eyes she’d spent so long trying to forget,  eyes she would recognize anywhere.

Her face had gone white, and her hand had gone stiff.

Marcus.