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

Alessia I woke up alone. Again. The right side of the bed was untouched, smooth and cold like it had been made for someone who never planned to sleep in it. The sun had already started spilling through the windows, but the warmth it offered didn’t reach me. It never did in this house. I pulled the blanket up to my chest, holding it close, pretending for a second that maybe I’d just woken up early. That maybe I had dreamt him being absent again. But reality settled in the pit of my stomach like it always did—a quiet, heavy reminder that Adrian hadn’t come home last night. Just like most nights. Today was supposed to mean something. Our first anniversary. One year of marriage. One year of walking around each other like strangers in this oversized house. One year of pretending we were something we weren’t. But I still held on—foolishly, maybe—hoping for something to change. Some small sign that he saw me. I had set everything up the night before. A quiet dinner. Nothing fancy. Ju

Alessia I woke up with an ache between my legs and a tighter one in my chest. For a moment, I didn’t move. I lay there, eyes open, staring at the edge of the blanket as morning light stretched across the room like it didn’t know how broken I felt. My limbs were stiff, my body sore, but I didn’t care about the physical pain. It was the emptiness that settled in after that night with Adrian that made it hard to breathe. He hadn’t come back. I heard him shut the guest room door after everything. I waited, stupidly, hoping maybe he’d come back in the middle of the night, say something, but all I got was silence. And now, morning. My side of the bed looked slept-in. His still looked perfect. I wrapped the blanket around myself and sat up, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. The air in the room was sharp, like it hadn’t moved in hours. I could still feel traces of him on my skin—his breath, his hands, his weight—but it felt more like residue than memory. Like something I needed to was

AlessiaIt’s been five years since I walked away from Adrian Volkov—and I haven’t looked back.Not really.Not in ways that count.Sure, sometimes I catch myself staring at my reflection longer than necessary, wondering if the shadows under my eyes were always there. If the quiet in my voice was born before him or because of him.But I don’t speak his name. Not even in my thoughts. Not anymore.The version of me that loved him—that waited for him—is gone.She died in silence, on a cold bathroom floor, clutching a pregnancy test and trying not to scream.Now… I’m someone else entirely.Alessia Roman.A name I chose myself. Not bought. Not inherited. Not gifted through contract.I live in a two-bedroom flat above a flower shop in Nice, France. The kind of place where the window lets in too much sun in the morning and the old heater makes strange clanking noises in winter. But it’s mine. And it’s warm. God, it’s warm.I run a small design studio not far from the water. Custom textiles, h

Adrian The pen in my hand barely moved. I had stared at the same paragraph for nearly ten minutes, the words flattening into meaningless lines. My assistant had flown in with the draft this morning—urgent, time-sensitive, “absolutely top priority”—but I couldn’t focus. Not today. The air felt... tight. Not heavy, exactly. Just off. Paris did that to me. It always had. Too ornate, too sentimental. A city built for people who believed in second chances. And I didn’t. I stood from the bench near the private lounge of the gallery, watching as the early access team rearranged placements for the exhibit. My exhibit. Or more like an exhibit for all the artists. Volkov International was sponsoring the entire thing—high-profile art show, luxury networking, brand alignment. All buzzwords that used to mean something. Now? Just noise. I adjusted my cuff, checked the time, and turned back toward my seat. A few minutes earlier, one of the event staff had opened the side service entrance to

AdrianI didn’t sleep.Not because of deadlines or board meetings, not even because of the gala that’s meant to host a dozen international investors.No. I didn’t sleep because I couldn’t stop seeing that little boy’s face.Caleb.His name kept echoing in my head like something I was supposed to remember but couldn’t. Like a song I’d only heard once but couldn’t stop humming. He smiled like me. Asked questions like me. Looked… far too much like me.And she lied.She looked me dead in the eye and said he was a client’s son. Like that meant anything. Like I didn’t already feel the truth gnawing at the edges of me.But it didn’t make sense.It couldn’t.If he were mine, she would’ve said something. Would’ve come back. Would’ve told me.Unless…Unless she didn’t want me to know.Unless she left because she already had someone else. Maybe that’s who he belongs to. Some faceless man who stepped in after I pushed her too far. Maybe that’s why she disappeared five years ago—because she was al