All Chapters of The Deal in a Wedding Dress: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Celeste The rain hammered against the cracked windows of our Victorian mansion like an unwelcome visitor demanding entry. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, watching droplets race down the surface while thunder rumbled overhead. How fitting that even the heavens seemed to weep for our family's misfortune. Our once-magnificent home stood like a tired old lady, her bones still elegant but her skin weathered and worn. The wallpaper peeled at the corners, and the hardwood floors creaked with every step, telling stories of better days when the Andrews name meant something in this small town. When our textile factory employed half the residents and our family dinners filled this dining room with laughter instead of worried whispers. "Celeste, sweetheart, come sit down." Dad's voice carried a weight I'd never heard before, heavy with something that made my stomach clench. I turned from the window to find him slumped in his worn leather chair, the one Mom had begged him to repla

Celeste My childhood bedroom felt smaller than I remembered, the pink wallpaper faded and peeling at the corners like old memories trying to escape. I sat cross-legged on my narrow bed, surrounded by the remnants of dreams I'd once believed in—sketches of wedding dresses scattered across my rumpled comforter, dog-eared romance novels stacked on my nightstand, and watercolor paintings of couples dancing in moonlight tacked to the walls. The contract lay before me like a death sentence, its crisp white pages mocking the fairy tale endings I'd once sketched in the margins of my notebooks. Killian Hart's signature was already there, bold and decisive, waiting for mine to seal our devil's bargain. A soft knock interrupted my brooding. "Celeste?" Dad's voice carried the weight of desperation. "Can we talk?" I quickly shoved the contract under my pillow. "Come in." He entered slowly, his shoulders stooped with the burden of our family's collapse. The man who used to carry me on his back

CelesteKillian's mansion rose from the hillside like something out of a gothic novel—all sharp angles and floor-to-ceiling windows that reflected the evening sky. Modern architecture that somehow felt cold despite its grandeur, as if the building itself had been designed to keep people at a distance.The limousine wound up the long driveway, and I pressed my hands against my navy cocktail dress, trying to smooth away the wrinkles and my nerves. Claire had delivered the dress that morning with a note: "Wear this. Mr. Hart has planned a dinner with business associates. Do not embarrass him."The pressure of those four words sat like a stone in my stomach.Nora met me at the entrance, her professional smile firmly in place. "Miss Andrews, welcome. Mr. Hart is with guests in the main dining hall. I'll escort you."The mansion's interior was exactly what I'd expected—expensive minimalism that prioritized aesthetics over comfort. Marble floors, abstract art that probably cost more than my f

CelesteThe Azure Coast Resort looked like something out of a travel magazine—white sand beaches stretching endlessly, turquoise waters that sparkled under the Mediterranean sun, and architecture that somehow managed to be both modern and timeless. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, and the air smelled of salt and expensive perfume.It should have been paradise. Instead, it was just another stage for our performance."Remember to smile," Killian said under his breath as we stepped out of the private car. His hand found the small of my back—a gesture that looked affectionate but felt practiced, mechanical. "The press will be watching."And they were. Cameras flashed as we walked through the resort's grand entrance, reporters shouting questions about our "whirlwind romance" and "fairy tale wedding." I smiled until my face hurt, leaned into Killian's side like a woman in love, played my part perfectly.The moment we entered our suite, his hand dropped away like I'd burned him."The s

CelesteThe mansion felt even colder after the warmth of the resort, if that was possible. We'd returned two days ago, and I'd barely seen Killian except for brief moments when he passed through rooms like a ghost, always on his phone, always somewhere else even when he was standing right in front of me.I wandered the vast, empty halls feeling like a character in a Gothic novel—the unwanted wife rattling around in her husband's castle, trying to find purpose in a life that didn't need her.It was the kitchen that saved my sanity. Unlike the rest of the mansion with its sterile perfection, the kitchen actually felt lived-in. I discovered the herbs on my third day of aimless wandering. Basil, rosemary, thyme, all carefully tended despite the fact that I'd never seen Killian eat anything more complicated than takeout from whatever expensive restaurant Nora ordered from."Mr. Hart's mother planted those," a voice said behind me, making me jump.I turned to find an older woman in a simple