Chapter 243

Chapter 243
Elsa

The gentle sound of my mother's breathing had become a comforting rhythm over the past few days. I sat in the old armchair beside her bed in our small apartment, scrolling through work emails while occasionally glancing at her sleeping form.

Drake's words from our last conversation echoed in my mind. He was right about Joseph—I probably wouldn't last long working under him anyway. The man was too easily influenced by powerful families like the Watsons.

But going back to working for Drake? The thought sent a shiver down my spine that wasn't entirely unpleasant. I rubbed my temples, exhaling sharply. Things were different now.

I twisted the moonstone ring absently, my fingernail clicking against the metal band. Despite my best efforts and some embarrassing attempts with soap and butter, I hadn't been able to remove it. Part of me had stopped trying.

My phone buzzed loudly against the wooden side table, startling me. "Shit!" I fumbled to silence it before it woke Mom, answering without checking the caller ID, nearly dropping the phone in my haste.

"Hello?" I whispered, assuming it was the pharmacy about Mom's medication.

"You're still in bed." Drake's deep voice sent an immediate jolt through my system. My back straightened involuntarily. "Get up. I'll be at your place in thirty minutes."

I blinked, disoriented, my free hand clutching the armrest. "What? Why?"

"Don't tell me you forgot." His tone hardened. "Today's the day we register our marriage. Don't even think about backing out—that commitment you made two days ago wasn't just empty words."

Marriage registration? Today? My heart lurched into my throat as fragments of our conversation came rushing back. My fingers began to tremble. In the emotional aftermath of our reunion, I'd agreed to make things official.

"I—I didn't forget," I lied, my voice thin, swallowing hard. "Just lost track of time."

"Thirty minutes, Elsa." He hung up.

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, staring at my phone in disbelief. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might crack a rib.

"Language," Mom's tired voice admonished from the bed. I turned to find her awake, eyes twinkling despite her pallor.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." I moved to her bedside, adjusting her pillows with shaky hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than you look." She reached for my hand, her fingers finding the moonstone ring. "So today's the big day? You're finally becoming Mrs. Stone?"

My cheeks burned hot enough to fry an egg. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear nervously. "You heard that?"

"Hard not to." Her smile widened. "You should go freshen up. Can't register your marriage looking like you spent the night in that chair."

"Mom, I can't just leave you—" I paced a small circle in the cramped bedroom, my hands fluttering uselessly.

"I'm not going anywhere." She squeezed my hand. "Oliver will be here in an hour anyway. Go. Be happy."

"But we haven't even done things properly," I protested, throwing my hands up. "Our families haven't met. Don't you think this is all happening too damn fast?"

Mom's eyes softened. "Elsa, I've watched that man look at you for years. He's always been so careful with you, so attentive. Maybe not in the ways you wanted, but in the ways he knew how."

"You don't even know him," I argued, biting my lower lip until I tasted copper.

"I know enough. I know he's arranged for the best specialists to treat me. I know he's been paying Oliver's tuition anonymously." Her gaze was steady. "And I know my daughter has been in love with him for a decade, whether she admits it or not."

My throat tightened. "Mom..." I slumped against the edge of the bed, my shoulders sagging with the weight of her truth.

"Go," she urged again. "The bathroom's down the hall. I packed something special in your overnight bag."

Twenty minutes later, I stood in our small bathroom, staring at my reflection with a sense of unreality. My fingers gripped the chipped porcelain sink so hard my knuckles turned white. My hair cascaded in soft waves around my shoulders, courtesy of the travel curling iron I'd found in my bag alongside a short white dress I'd never seen before.

"Holy fuck," I whispered to my reflection. "Is this really happening?" Was I actually going to marry Drake Stone today?

Years ago, when we first began our arrangement, I'd daydreamed about becoming his wife. Those fantasies had faded as I'd come to understand my place in the pack hierarchy—an omega useful for business connections and temporary comfort, but never worthy of becoming an Alpha's true mate.

Yet here I was, wearing a simple but elegant short wedding dress that fell just above my knees. The fabric was exquisite—soft white silk with delicate lace overlay that made it bridal without being ostentatious.

I smoothed my trembling hands over the material, remembering how Drake and I had browsed wedding styles online last week, a conversation I'd assumed was theoretical. He must have ordered this dress then, planning this day all along.

"You sneaky bastard," I muttered, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips.

My phone buzzed with incoming messages. I'd texted my closest friends about today's plans, and their responses were flooding in. I nearly dropped the phone trying to unlock it.

Olivia: WHAT THE FUCK? You're marrying him TODAY? Without a prenup? Call me RIGHT NOW.

Sophia: Are you INSANE? Has that asshole Alpha brainwashed you AGAIN? This is the same man who kept you hidden for TEN YEARS! Elsa, please tell me you're joking.

Has he threatened you? Blink twice if you need rescue.

I swear to the moon goddess if he's forcing you into this I will personally rip his throat out.

I winced at Sophia's increasingly frantic messages but couldn't help smiling. My thumb hovered over the screen, considering a reply, then decided against it. Their concern was touching, but they didn't understand what had changed between Drake and me.

I didn't fully understand it myself.

A final glance in the mirror showed a woman I barely recognized—hopeful, nervous, and yes, even excited. My hand trembled as I applied a touch of lip gloss, my stomach a knot of butterflies fighting with bats. I slipped on the white heels that had also mysteriously appeared in my bag, and headed for the apartment door, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure the neighbors could hear it.

I peeked back into Mom's room. "I'm heading out now. You're sure you'll be okay?"

"I'm not the one getting married today," she smiled. "Now go before you're late."

Through the front window, I spotted Drake's black Aston Martin idling at the curb. My steps faltered momentarily, and I nearly tripped over our threadbare welcome mat before I pushed through the door into the crisp morning air.

Drake stood leaning against the passenger door, devastating in a white suit that perfectly complemented my dress. His dark hair was styled back, emphasizing his strong jawline and intense eyes. When he saw me, those eyes widened slightly, and something like awe flickered across his face.

Several passing neighbors slowed their pace, openly staring at us. I couldn't blame them—we must have looked like something from a magazine shoot, especially against the backdrop of my modest apartment building.

"You're wearing the dress," Drake said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he reached for my hand.