The world feels unreal.
Too bright.
Too sharp.
Too loud.
Maybe it's because less than twenty-four hours ago, I was supposed to marry someone else.
Maybe it's because I agreed—actually agreed—to marry my boss.
Or maybe… It's because Leon Hale, the man whose veins are rumored to pump liquid nitrogen, is standing beside me in a private bridal suite, adjusting the cuff of his charcoal wedding suit like this is just another business meeting.
No hesitation.
No nerves.
No doubt.
The only person in this room having a mental breakdown is me.
The makeup artist fusses over my cheeks. "Breathe, Miss—sorry, Mrs. Hale-to-be."
I almost choke on air.
Leon glances at me. "You're panicking."
"I'm not," I lie, very unconvincingly.
He steps closer, dismissing the hairstylist with a single nod. She scurries out as if being released from a hostage situation.
Then he turns to me fully, his presence swallowing the air.
"We go out in twelve minutes," he says quietly. "If you want to walk away, this is your last opportunity."
My breath catches.
He's giving me an out?
Before I can answer, he adds, "If you choose to walk away now, I will still handle everything. You will not face a backlash. I'll make sure of it."
That—right there—that's the problem.
He's too calm.
Too steady.
Too… him.
I look down at my wedding dress.
Not the one I picked for my real wedding.
That one is probably still at the venue, surrounded by centerpieces and floral arrangements meant for a life that no longer exists.
This dress is simpler—silk instead of lace, fitted but elegant, with a neckline that Leon insisted was "appropriate for the family trust's lawyers."
I still don't know what that means.
"Why are you doing this?" I whisper.
Leon doesn't blink. "Because you need stability right now. And because I need a wife."
"That's not a real reason."
"It is," he says simply. "Just not one you're used to."
I exhale shakily. "Are you sure this won't… destroy my life?"
"Quite the opposite." His tone leaves no room for doubt. "It will anchor it."
My heart trips.
Of course he'd use a word like anchor.
"I'm terrified," I whisper.
He nods once. "Good. That means you understand what you're doing."
"What about you?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Are you afraid?"
His expression doesn't change.
But something in his eyes does.
"No," he says.
"It takes more than a wedding to scare me."
I let out an unsteady breath. "Of course it does."
He looks like he wants to say more.
But instead, he offers his hand.
"It's time."
I stare at his hand.
At the ring already on his finger—the one the jeweler delivered five hours ago, brought in by a Hale Group security escort like it was the crown jewels.
My fingers tremble.
Leon notices.
Slowly, carefully, he takes my hand himself.
"You're not alone, Amelia."
My pulse stutters.
And then the doors open.
The Ceremony
There aren't many guests—just business partners, family representatives, and the mandatory witnesses the Hale family trust requires.
But every eye turns toward us as the music starts.
I freeze.
Leon feels it immediately. His hand tightens around mine.
"Walk," he murmurs. "I'm right here."
And somehow… I do.
Each step is a battle against memory—against the ghost of another aisle I was supposed to walk down today.
Against the echo of betrayal in a hotel room I can't forget.
But each step also brings something else.
Distance.
Space.
Freedom.
And then—
We're standing at the altar.
The officiant clears his throat. "We are gathered today to unite—"
But he doesn't get far.
Because the chapel doors slam open.
My blood goes cold.
Marcus.
My ex-fiancé.
He storms in, face flushed with shock and rage. My sister is behind him, mascara smudged, lipstick smeared—the perfect visual of someone caught in the act.
"Amelia!" Marcus shouts. "You can't do this!"
The room gasps.
Leon's jaw clenches once.
A single, lethal movement.
Marcus continues, "You still love me. You can't marry him! This is crazy!"
I should crumble.
I should feel pain.
I should feel something.
But instead?
I feel absolutely nothing.
"I don't love you," I say softly, so the entire room hears.
Marcus stops like someone slapped him.
My sister hisses, "Amelia, don't be dramatic. You're making a scene."
Leon turns his head slowly, eyes like a blade.
"Get them out."
Two Hale security officers move instantly.
But Marcus isn't done.
"This isn't real!" he shouts, scrambling backward as security approaches. "You're doing this to hurt me!"
"No," I say calmly, my voice steady for the first time in days. "I'm doing this because I finally realized what I deserve."
"And what's that?" he spits.
I lift my chin.
"Respect."
The word hangs in the air.
Marcus laughs bitterly. "You think he's going to give you that? He's using you!"
Leon steps forward—slow, controlled, terrifying.
"Careful," he says quietly. "You're trespassing on my wedding."
Marcus pales.
"Your… what?"
"This is my wife," Leon says, each syllable a razor. "And your opinion means less than nothing."
Security grabs Marcus's arms.
"Let go of me!" Marcus shouts, twisting violently. "Amelia! Baby—"
Leon's expression shifts.
Frozen.
Cold.
Predatory.
"Call her that again," Leon says softly, "and I'll break your jaw myself."
A silent, collective inhale ripples through the room.
My heart thunders.
Marcus sees something in Leon's expression—something that makes even his arrogance evaporate. He stops struggling.
Security drags him and my sister out of the chapel.
The doors slam shut behind them.
Silence.
The officiant clears his throat nervously. "Shall… we continue?"
Leon turns to me.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," I whisper. And for the first time, it's true.
He studies my face for a moment, then nods.
The ceremony resumes.
But I feel different now.
Lighter.
Stronger.
Because that door didn't just close on Marcus.
It closed on the old me.
The Vows
The officiant looks at Leon first. "Repeat after me."
But Leon shakes his head.
"I'll speak my own vows."
My breath catches.
Even the officiant blinks. "O-Oh. Very well. Go ahead."
Leon turns to face me fully.
And suddenly, the world shrinks to the two of us.
"Amelia," he begins, voice low, steady, impossibly sincere, "I am not a man who makes promises lightly."
My heart twists painfully.
"I can't promise I'll always be gentle. Or easy. Or soft."
His eyes lock on mine.
"But I can promise loyalty. And respect. Always."
Emotion surges up my throat.
"I can promise to stand between you and anyone who tries to hurt you. I can promise to protect your name as fiercely as I protect my own."
My vision blurs.
"And most importantly," he says quietly, "I promise to make sure you never face anything alone again."
He pauses.
"Not grief.
Not betrayal.
Not fear."
The officiant swallows audibly.
So do I.
Leon nods once—his vows complete.
"Your turn," he murmurs.
My knees weaken.
I take a breath.
"Leon…" My voice trembles, but I force the words out. "I never thought I would be standing here today. Not with you. Not with anyone."
A faint emotion flickers in his eyes.
"But you showed me something I didn't expect. Strength that doesn't demand. Protection without control. Stability without chains."
His jaw tightens, almost like he's feeling the words.
"I can't promise perfection," I whisper. "But I can promise honesty. And effort. And… gratitude. Because you didn't have to do this. But you did."
I swallow the lump in my throat.
"And I won't forget that."
Silence.
The officiant finally speaks: "Leon Hale… do you take Amelia Wright as your lawfully wedded wife?"
Leon doesn't hesitate.
"I do."
"And Amelia Wright, do you take Leon Hale—"
"I do."
His lips twitch—barely—but enough to make my heart twist.
"Then I pronounce you husband and wife."
My breath catches.
"You may kiss your bride."
Leon steps forward.
Slow.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
He lifts my chin with a single finger.
"Are you ready?" he murmurs.
"No," I whisper. "But do it anyway."
He leans in—
And his lips brush mine.
Not deep.
Not passionate.
But firm.
Certain.
Claiming.
The chapel erupts in applause.
But all I feel is him.
My husband.
After The Ceremony
We walked down the aisle together, newly married.
Flashbulbs explode. Guests clap politely. His hand rests on the small of my back—steady, warm, protective.
"Amelia," he murmurs.
I look up at him.
"This is where everything changes."
My breath catches.
Because the way he says it—
It doesn't sound like a warning.
It sounds like a promise.