Chapter 223

Noah

I barely recognized the guy staring back at me in the mirror.

Freshly washed hair, combed into submission. Close shave. Skin moisturized. The cologne William’s wife got me as a gift sat warm and expensive against my skin. The Armani suit hugged my shoulders and back like it had been engineered just for me. Crisp white shirt. Tie with the knot sitting flawlessly over my chest. Italian leather shoes polished enough to blind someone if the sunlight caught them.

I looked like royalty. And none of it felt like me.

I straightened my sleeves again just to do something with my hands. Then the door behind me opened.

“Noah…”

My mom stood there, hand over her mouth, eyes glossy and wide. She didn’t speak for a moment, just stared.

“Oh my God, baby, you look like a movie star.”

I forced a smile, turning toward her.

Her aquamarine dress floated around her like something out of a ballroom scene, hair elegantly done, makeup soft and glowing. Her eyes shined with that spark I hadn’t seen in years—maybe ever.

She lifted her trembling hand to cup my cheek. “I can’t believe this. All your dreams… all mine… everything you wanted. Your football career about to explode, marrying the most wonderful girl, joining a family that’s so respected and generous and kind. William has been so good to us. So protective. I’m just… I’m so grateful. Noah, we’re safe. We’re happy. I haven’t felt that in years.”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead, neither confirming nor denying anything she had just said. If only she knew… But that was not for her to know. After 20 years of hell, she deserved some peace at last. “You look beautiful, Mom.”

Her eyes filled, and she tried to contain herself again.

Emily came next, knocking before entering. Lavender bridesmaid dress flowing as she stepped in, little silver flowers in her hair, her smile bright and steady like she’d fought her way through storms to earn it.

“Wow! Look at you… You’ll eclipse the bride if you stand too close…” I grinned.

“I wish! You should see Lexie… OMG…” She widened her eyes dramatically and fanned her hand in front of her like she was trying to cool off her face. “She’s stunning. Like, jaw-dropping stunning. I walked in and nearly fainted.”

I laughed. “You serious?”

“No, seriously!” Emily insisted. “She looks like a literal fairytale princess. If she doesn’t break the internet today, I’ll sue. And talking about internet… Ready for the picture?” she asked.

I wrapped my arm around her, and we smiled. Emily snapped it and saved it, promising to upload it later to our collage.

I hugged them both and walked with them out the back of the estate, where a private exit had been arranged so we didn’t get swallowed alive by cameras.

The limousine was like a breath of air. Quiet, fresh—music playing, comfort and leather… Even my family used the thirty-minute ride to Houston to take it all in.

We arrived at the back of the building, expecting to sneak in, but once we stepped outside, the sound hit—a roar of voices, cameras clicking, people shouting, reporters doing TV intros about the Hart-Blake wedding. It was chaos in suits and gowns, expensive perfume and diamonds, cell phones held up like weapons pointed at us from a distance.

We moved through the crowd toward the private door on the side of St. Althea’s Cathedral. The stone walls and stained-glass windows glowed like a jewel in the sun, grand enough to feel holy but crowded enough to feel suffocating. People paraded the hallway like they were walking the goddamn red carpet, laughing, talking, posing for photos, greeting one another, shaking hands. Security hovered around every entrance, organized but tense, keeping the press out and the fancy people in.

Inside, there was no quiet. Silk and satin brushed past us, heels clicked on the polished floor, servants in black whispered instructions, wealthy figures flashed smiles at one another, snapping pictures as if they were the ones getting married. I felt swallowed by it.

Keon and Miguel found me in a smaller prep room behind the cathedral pews.

“Bro! Look at you!” Miguel laughed. “You better not steal Lexie’s thunder looking that sexy on your wedding day.”

Keon hugged me tight. “Nervous?”

“Yes. No. I don’t fucking know. Both.”

Miguel grinned. “Best decision ever letting us be your best men. A billionaire wedding? Unreal.”

“Yeah, man. Thank you. And your bachelor party was awesome—”

“It could’ve had a few more gay guys though…” Miguel cut in, deadpan.

“That’s what you’re here for,” Keon said. “To balance things out. One of you for ten of them. But seriously, that party was cool. But this? Standing by you? This is just great, man.”

“It is,” Miguel nodded. “Now we just need a post-wedding tradition: ‘hooked for life’ afterparty. I’m demanding it.”

I actually laughed. “Deal.”

Keon’s smile turned softer. “Noah, we’ve known each other barely a year, and I wish we’d had more time. But what we did get—guitar nights, training, late talks—I’m grateful for that. I’m glad I get to be here today.”

I swallowed hard. “Guys, I’m getting married, not dying.”

Miguel smirked. “Debatable.”

I laughed again, then let the air escape my chest. “I just need a minute.”

They nodded and stepped back.

I reached into my pocket for my phone, about to check it—just to see anything familiar, anything grounding.

But before I could unlock the screen, the door swung open.

William stood there.

And every muscle in my body locked.

He looked me up and down, slow and assessing, like he was admiring his own handiwork. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, considering—”

“Considering what?” he snapped before I could finish. “Considering that you get to live a king’s life? That you get to marry a beautiful woman from one of the most esteemed families in Texas? Considering that your NFL dreams are practically guaranteed? Considering that your mother and sister will remain happy and safe for the rest of their lives under my protection?”

I felt the rage hit my throat before I could stop it. “Considering that I don’t give a shit about half of that, and that I don’t get to marry Aiden—the man I actually love.”

His expression curdled into pure poison.

He stepped closer, his voice low and hissing. “You better lower your fucking voice. I took you and your filthy family out of that dump you were rotting in and gave you everything you don’t deserve. I put you where you are. I protected you. I made you matter. I’d love to see that faggot do a fraction of that for you.”

My jaw shook. My hands curled into fists.

He leaned in one inch closer. “Now you will get your ass out there and walk that aisle before I stop being this considerate. Is that clear?”

I lowered my head. “Yes, Sir.”

“And another thing,” William said, his voice like ice sliding through me. “Don’t you ever say that name again. Not now. Not ever.”