Chapter nine: Velvet and Steel

The gowns looked like they didn’t belong in the same universe as me.

They hung from a custom gold rack near the window, moonlight pouring in across the silk like holy water over sacrificial fabric. One was soft champagne satin, all gentle drapes and flowing sleeves. The second, too frilly—layers of organza and tulle like something pulled from a debutante’s fever dream.

And then there was the last one.

The lace and jeweled one.

It glimmered quietly in the light, regal and sharp and just a little dangerous. Sleeveless. Sweetheart neckline. Thousands of tiny diamonds sewn into the embroidery like stars frozen in motion.

I didn’t dare touch it.

Instead, I paced barefoot across the plush rug, arms wrapped around myself like armor. This suite was stunning—dark marble, towering windows, a fireplace that flickered without sound—but it felt too big. Too quiet. Like I was a guest in someone else’s fairy tale.

One I didn’t belong in.

I was still thinking that when the door opened with a soft knock and a familiar voice followed.

“I brought snacks. Don’t make me eat them all myself.”

I turned to see Jules standing in the doorway, leather jacket traded for a black satin robe, tray balanced casually in one hand. A teapot steamed beside two mugs and a tiny stack of chocolate chip cookies.

“You brought cookies?” I said.

“You looked like you needed a moment that didn’t involve security briefings or murder threats.”

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Come in.”

She set the tray down on the low table near the fireplace and plopped into one of the velvet chairs. “So. The dresses.”

I glanced at the rack. “They’re beautiful.”

“Which means you haven’t picked.”

“No.” I sat down across from her, curling my legs beneath me.

“Why don’t you try them on and we can chose together?”

I tried on the first dress.

Too soft. Too sad.

The second? Too sweet. I looked like a girl playing pretend.

As I stepped down from the platform and into my robe again, I turned to Jules, suddenly overwhelmed by the silence.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

She looked up from her cookie.

“For what?”

“For just… being normal. Not treating me like some porcelain doll or ticking bomb. You don’t pity me. You don’t kiss my ass. You talk to me like I’m just… a person.”

Jules shrugged one shoulder, smile small but genuine. “Looked to me like you needed a friend. And I like strong women.”

That made me laugh—

A strong woman. Me? I like that idea.

“You’re my first ever friend,” I admitted. “How pathetic is that?”

She grinned. “I’ve heard worse.”

Then her gaze flicked toward the gowns. “So tell me—how’d you end up bargaining your way into marriage with a cold bastard like Dominic?”

I blinked. “You… you know?”

Jules rolled her eyes. “Please. I was his personal bodyguard for years. The man left this estate single, walked back in engaged. Didn't take a genius.”

She leaned back. “Besides, your little tumble from the fifteenth floor is trending across five continents. #BlackwoodBride is already a hashtag.”

I stared at her.

“Don’t worry,” she added. “I don’t judge. Honestly? I respect it. You played with fire and walked away with a diamond.”

“You’re a crazy one, aren’t you?” I asked with a grin and she laughed.

“Be happy you found out early. Try the third dress.”

I bite my lip. “I feel like if I put it on, it becomes real. The whole thing. The deal. The wedding. Him.”

Jules didn’t blink. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

She poured tea and passed me a cup.

“Do you think I’m crazy for agreeing to this marriage?”

Jules took a sip, then looked at me over the rim. “No. I think you’re surviving. And doing it with style.”

I smiled a little. “I thought I was going to die in that hospital.”

Her expression didn’t change.

I appreciated that. No pity. Just presence.

“I laid there and thought, this is it. This is how it ends. Pregnant. Alone. Humiliated.”

She set her mug down and leaned forward.

“But it didn’t end,” she said. “You lived. And now they’re going to wish you hadn’t.”

I swallowed hard.

“I don’t want pity,” I whispered. “I want vengeance.”

She nodded. “Good. Then pick a damn dress and give them something to stare at while they choke on your name.”

I laughed—soft, shaky, but real.

Jules stood and crossed the room to the gowns. “Come on. Try it on. You’re not going to feel powerful until you look it.”

I touched the final dress and held my breath.

The lace. The jewels. Heaven.

Jules helped me step into it in silence. Her hands were steady as she zipped the back.

I turned toward the mirror.

And froze.

The woman staring back at me didn’t look scared.

She looked like a queen who’d survived every fire they threw at her.

Like someone carved from glass and revenge.

I swallowed.

“Do I look like a woman no one can break?”

Jules smiled.

“You look like the end of every man who ever tried.”

Later, I stood at the vanity brushing my hair when I glanced at her in the reflection.

“Will you…” I hesitated. “Will you braid it for me?”

Jules didn’t ask why.

She just nodded and moved behind me, fingers gentle but firm.

It wasn’t about the braid.

It was about letting someone in. Letting someone close.

Her touch was steady. Soothing. And in that moment, I let the silence fill the room without guilt.

When she finished, she tied the braid with a black ribbon.

“You’re ready,” she said.

“I don’t feel ready.”

“You don’t have to. Just look like you are. The rest will catch up.”

***

After she left, I changed into a silk robe and padded barefoot across the suite to the balcony.

The night air was cool on my skin. Somewhere below, the estate’s fountain whispered into the silence.

The lace gown stood on the mannequin behind me—gleaming like frost, still and perfect.

Tomorrow, I would wear it.

Tomorrow, I would marry a man who terrified the city.

Tomorrow, I would become something no one saw coming.

I stared up at the moon, spine straight, voice steady.

“Tomorrow, I stop surviving,” I whispered. “I start winning.”