The morning arrived not with the gentle glow of dawn, but with the harsh, gray light of a persistent storm. True to Mrs. Gable’s word, the lock on Natalie’s door clicked open at exactly seven o'clock. A flurry of strangers entered the suite—a stone-faced tailor, two meticulous stylists, and Mrs. Gable supervising the entire operation like a general preparing for battle.
They brought with them a garment bag that practically hummed with opulence. When the zipper was drawn down, it revealed a wedding gown made of heavy, cream-colored silk. It was sleek, backless, and devoid of any gaudy lace or sequins—a masterpiece of understated elegance. It was beautiful, but to Natalie, it felt like a velvet noose.
"Mr. Vance requested that you wear this," Mrs. Gable said, gesturing to the dress. "The fit should be perfect. The tailor has your exact measurements from your family's records."
Natalie stood like a mannequin as they draped her in the silk, zipped the hidden zipper up her spine, and arranged her dark hair into an elegant, intricate updo. They offered her jewelry—a diamond necklace that looked heavy enough to anchor a ship—but she refused it with a sharp shake of her head.
"The dress is enough," Natalie said, her voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the stylists. She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked like a stranger. A beautiful, tragic bride prepared for an altar of convenience.
By ten minutes to nine, the stylists vanished as quickly as they had arrived. Mrs. Gable stepped forward, holding a simple bouquet of white calla lilies. "It is time, Miss Lopez. Mr. Vance is waiting in the private conservatory."
Natalie took a deep breath, smoothing down the silk of her skirt. "Lead the way."
The conservatory was located at the back of the estate, a massive glass structure filled with exotic, blooming flora that contrasted sharply with the bleak, rainy sky outside. The air inside was warm and thick with the scent of jasmine. Standing at the far end of the glass room, near a small altar adorned with white roses, was Sebastian Vance.
He wore a tailored black tuxedo that accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding height. His dark hair was brushed back, and his expression was as unreadable as a marble statue. Next to him stood an elderly man in a judge’s robe, holding a leather-bound folder. There were no guests. No music. Only the sound of rain drumming aggressively against the glass ceiling.
As Natalie walked down the tiled path, her heels clicking softly, Sebastian’s icy blue eyes locked onto her. His gaze tracked her progress from the entrance to the altar, a flicker of something dark and intense crossing his features before vanishing back into his usual mask of indifference.
"You're on time," Sebastian noted smoothly as she stopped across from him. "I appreciate punctuality."
"I wanted to get this farce over with as quickly as possible," Natalie replied under her breath, her eyes flashing with defiance.
The judge cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable under the palpable tension radiating between the couple. "Shall we begin?"
The ceremony was brief, stripped of any romance or traditional vows. The judge read the standard legal requirements of marriage under the law, his voice echoing in the vast, empty conservatory. Natalie listened to the words, feeling a strange detachment from her own body. She glanced at the document resting on the small table next to the judge—the marriage certificate that would legally bind her to the ruthless CEO.
"Do you, Sebastian Vance, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," Sebastian said, his deep voice resonant and completely unwavering.
"And do you, Natalie Lopez, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
The judge looked at her. Sebastian looked at her. For a split second, Natalie thought about saying no. She thought about turning around and walking out into the rain. But she remembered her old suitcase, the picture of her mother, and the family that had discarded her. If she ran, she would have nothing. If she stayed, she had a foothold in the empire of the most powerful man in the city.
She looked Sebastian straight in the eye. "I do."
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the judge concluded, gesturing to the documents. "Please sign here."
Sebastian picked up the fountain pen first, signing his name in a bold, sweeping script. He handed the pen to Natalie. Her hand shook imperceptibly as she took it, but she forced herself to write her name clearly next to his. *Natalie Vance.*
"Congratulations," the judge murmured, packing his things quickly, sensing that his presence was no longer desired. Mrs. Gable escorted the judge out, leaving the newlyweds entirely alone in the conservatory.
Sebastian turned to Natalie, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a simple, elegant platinum band. He didn't ask for her hand; he simply took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. The metal was cold against her skin.
"It's official," Sebastian whispered, leaning down slightly so his shadow completely engulfed her. "You are a Vance now, Natalie. Let's see how long you survive in my world."
To be continued...
