Chapter 6: The Wedding Day

Celeste

The cathedral was a monument to excess—soaring Gothic arches, stained glass windows that painted the stone floors in jewel tones, and enough white roses to fill a garden. It should have been beautiful. It should have been everything a girl dreams of on her wedding day.

Instead, it felt like a mausoleum.

I stood in the bride's chamber, staring at my reflection in a full-length mirror while Claire fussed with my veil. The dress Killian had chosen fit perfectly, transforming me into a vision of bridal elegance. But the girl looking back at me had hollow eyes and a smile that didn't reach past her lips.

"You look perfect," Claire said, stepping back to assess her work. "Mr. Hart will be pleased."

Of course. Because that's what mattered—pleasing Killian Hart. Not that I was marrying a stranger, or that my wedding was a business transaction dressed up in white silk and lies.

A soft knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. "Celeste?" Mom's voice, thin and fragile, came through the door.

"Come in."

She entered slowly, Dad and Lily trailing behind her. All three of them looked wrong in their formal attire—like children playing dress-up in borrowed clothes. Dad's suit was nice, probably the nicest he'd ever worn, but he kept tugging at the collar as if it were choking him. Lily's bridesmaid dress—another of Killian's selections—made her look older, sadder.

"Oh, sweetheart." Mom's eyes filled with tears as she took in my appearance. "You're so beautiful."

"Thanks, Mom." I tried to smile, but my face felt frozen.

"Are you sure about this?" Lily asked suddenly, her voice sharp with barely contained emotion. "Because it's not too late. We can leave right now. All of us."

"Lily—" Dad's warning tone held no real conviction.

"No, I'm serious." She grabbed my hands, her grip desperate. "You don't have to do this. There has to be another way."

"There isn't." The words came out harsher than I intended. "In three hours, the bank forecloses on everything we own. This is the only way."

"But you're sacrificing your entire life—"

"For one year," I cut her off. "One year, and then you can go to college. Mom can get proper treatment. Dad can rebuild the business. One year of my life for all of your futures. That's a trade I can live with."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Because I wasn't sure I could live with it. I wasn't sure I could survive twelve months married to a man who made my heart race and my head spin while remaining completely untouchable.

A sharp knock interrupted us. "It's time," Claire announced, her tone brooking no argument. "The guests are waiting."

My family filed out, and I was left alone for one final moment. I touched the sapphire necklace at my throat—Killian's gift that I hadn't been able to bring myself to remove. The stones felt cool against my flushed skin, a reminder of the man waiting for me at the altar.

A man with secrets. A man with a mysterious woman in a photograph. A man who'd bought me like a piece of property for his elaborate charade.

The music swelled—the traditional wedding march played on a massive pipe organ. My cue.

Dad appeared at my side, offering his arm. His hand shook as I took it. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, Celeste."

"Don't," I said quietly. "Just... don't."

The cathedral doors opened, and I stepped into my elaborate lie.

The aisle stretched impossibly long, lined with strangers in designer suits and couture gowns. I recognized maybe five faces in the sea of people—my family, huddled together in the second row like refugees. Everyone else was Killian's world—business associates, society figures, and what looked like half the city's media contingent, cameras flashing like lightning.

This wasn't a wedding. It was a performance. A spectacle designed to convince the world that Killian Hart had found love.

And there he stood at the altar, devastating in a black tuxedo that made him look like a dark prince from some twisted fairy tale. His expression was perfectly controlled—no nervousness, no anticipation, nothing that suggested this day meant anything to him beyond checking a box on his business agenda.

But when his eyes met mine, something flickered. Just for a heartbeat, his mask slipped, and I saw something raw in those storm-gray depths. Something that looked almost like... fear?

Then it was gone, replaced by cool professionalism as I reached his side.

The officiant began speaking, his words washing over me in a blur of traditional vows and legal binding. I repeated my lines mechanically, the words feeling like stones in my mouth. This wasn't sacred. This wasn't real. This was a contract being formalized in the most elaborate way possible.

"Do you, Killian Alexander Hart, take Celeste Marie Andrews to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." His voice was steady, emotionless, exactly what I'd expected.

"And do you, Celeste Marie Andrews, take Killian Alexander Hart to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The pause stretched too long. I felt hundreds of eyes boring into my back, cameras capturing my hesitation for tomorrow's headlines. Killian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"I do," I finally whispered.

The officiant smiled. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Killian turned to me, his hands coming up to cup my face with surprising gentleness. For a moment, we just stood there, frozen in this bizarre tableau. His thumb brushed my cheek, and I realized with horror that a tear had escaped.

"It's just business," he murmured, so quietly only I could hear. But his eyes—those calculating gray eyes—held something that contradicted his words. Something warm and confused and almost... tender?

Then he kissed me.

I'd expected it to be brief, perfunctory, the minimum required for appearances. But the moment his lips touched mine, something ignited. The kiss was gentle at first, almost questioning, but then it deepened. His hand slid to the back of my neck, tilting my head to deepen the angle, and I found myself responding without conscious thought.

Heat flooded through me, making my knees weak and my heart hammer against my ribs. This wasn't supposed to feel real. This wasn't supposed to make me forget where we were, who we were, why we were doing this.

But for that suspended moment, I forgot everything except the warmth of his mouth on mine and the way his hands held me like I was something precious instead of purchased.

When he finally pulled back, I was breathless, dizzy, completely undone. He looked equally affected—his pupils dilated, his breathing slightly elevated, a flush coloring his sharp cheekbones.

Then he stepped back, and the mask slammed down again. "Smile," he said under his breath. "We have an audience."

Right. An audience. Cameras. A performance.

I plastered on a smile that felt like it might crack my face as applause erupted around us. Killian took my hand, his touch now impersonal as he led me back down the aisle. Past the strangers celebrating our elaborate lie. Past my family's worried faces. Into our new reality as Mr. and Mrs. Hart.

The reception was held in the cathedral's adjoining hall—another exercise in excess with crystal chandeliers, endless champagne, and a cake that looked like architectural achievement. I moved through it all like a ghost, smiling until my cheeks ached, accepting congratulations from people whose names I couldn't remember.

Killian stayed at my side for the first hour, playing his role perfectly. The attentive groom, the satisfied husband, the man who'd just married for love instead of convenience. But I felt the tension radiating from him, saw how his eyes kept drifting to his phone.

"I need to make a quick call," he finally said, his hand on my lower back. "Business emergency. I'll only be a moment."

Before I could respond, he was gone, disappearing through a side door that led to a private corridor. I watched him go, feeling abandoned among all these strangers who thought they were celebrating true love.

I should have stayed put. Should have continued playing the blushing bride. But something—curiosity, suspicion, or maybe just desperate need to understand the man I'd just bound myself to—made me follow.

The corridor was quiet, dim, away from the celebration. I could hear Killian's voice echoing from around a corner, speaking in low, urgent tones.

"It's done," he said, and something in his voice made my blood run cold. "She's mine now."

I stayed frozen in that doorway, my wedding dress suddenly feeling like a cage, the sapphire necklace like a collar marking me as his property.

She's mine now.

What had I done? What kind of devil's bargain had I really made? And who was Killian Hart when the cameras weren't watching and the mask finally came off?