Chapter 63 THE SENATOR'S DECLARATION
POV: Selena
The sirens started before I realized what was happening, slicing through the crowd and the half-set stage like an accusation.
I was standing three steps behind Senator De Luca, close enough to hear the strain in his breathing, close enough to see the way his hand trembled as he gripped the podium. What I wanted in that moment was simple. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him back in bed, surrounded by monitors and doctors instead of microphones and judgment.
But he had already begun.
“This young woman saved my family,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “She stood where others would have bowed. She told the truth when silence would have protected her.”
The crowd leaned in. Cameras zoomed. Phones lifted higher.
I shifted my weight, ready to step forward if he faltered. Adrian stood on his other side, jaw tight, eyes locked on his father with a mix of pride and fear that made my chest ache in a way I did not have words for.
“Integrity,” the senator continued, “is rare in Washington. Selena Alvarez has more of it than anyone I have worked with in thirty years.”
A reporter shouted a question. He ignored it.
“You can attack her background,” he said. “You can mock where she comes from. You can invent stories because they make you comfortable. But you cannot erase what she has done.”
I saw a medic at the edge of the crowd exchange a look with another. The doctor who had begged him not to be here was pushing through the mass of people, face pale.
“Sir,” someone called softly, “you need to sit down.”
The senator lifted a hand. “One more thing.”
He turned his head slightly, enough to find me.
“This family,” he said, “has survived because of power and silence for too long. She brought honesty into our house. That is why she belongs with us.”
A ripple moved through the crowd. Not outrage. Something closer to surprise.
I took a step forward. “Richard,” I said quietly, not caring who heard me. “Please.”
He smiled at me, small and tired.
Then his knees buckled.
For a second, no one reacted. It was like the world needed permission to move again.
Adrian caught him before he hit the ground. I was there too, dropping to my knees, my hands useless as the medics surged in, barking orders, pushing us back.
“Sir, can you hear me?”
“Clear the area.”
“Where’s the oxygen?”
Cameras flashed. Someone shouted his name.
Adrian knelt beside him, gripping his father’s hand like he could anchor him there by force alone. I hovered just behind, my heart pounding hard enough that it drowned out the noise.
The senator’s eyes fluttered open.
“Adrian,” he whispered.
“I’m here,” Adrian said. His voice broke on the word.
The medics lifted the senator onto the stretcher. As they rolled him toward the ambulance, he reached out again, fingers brushing Adrian’s sleeve.
“Marry her,” he said, breath shallow. “Today. Before they can stop you.”
The doors slammed shut. The sirens screamed back to life.
And just like that, he was gone.
The press exploded into chaos. Questions flew. Names were shouted. The stage was abandoned, the microphones left humming to no one.
Adrian stood still, staring at the empty space where his father had been. I touched his arm.
He looked at me, eyes dark, focused. “He meant it.”
“I know,” I said.
We did not need to explain what “they” meant. The Ashfords. Thornton. Every person waiting for a delay to turn into an opening.
Bella appeared, phone already pressed to her ear. “Courthouse,” she said. “If we move now, we can do it.”
“Doctors?” Adrian asked.
“They’ll stabilize him,” she replied. “He wanted this.”
The word wanted settled over me, heavy and strange. A few hours ago, I had been fighting rumors. Now I was standing on the edge of something permanent.
Adrian turned to me fully. “We do not have to do this today.”
“Yes,” I said. The certainty surprised even me. “We do.”
His eyes searched my face, looking for doubt. He did not find it.
The ride to the courthouse felt unreal. Police escorts cleared the way. My phone buzzed nonstop, but I ignored it. I watched the city blur past and tried to keep my breathing even.
“What are you thinking?” Adrian asked.
“That I never imagined my life would look like this,” I said. “That part of me is terrified. And another part is calm.”
He nodded. “Same.”
The courthouse steps were already crowded. News had traveled fast. Security pushed us through a side entrance, the air inside cool and echoing.
We did not have a dress. I did not have flowers. I had Adrian’s jacket around my shoulders and a pen someone pressed into my hand to sign papers I had never planned to see today.
The clerk looked up at us. “Names?”
“Adrian De Luca,” he said.
“Selena Alvarez,” I added.
She glanced at us, then smiled, just a little. “Do you swear this is your free and willing choice?”
“Yes,” we said, together.
The words echoed.
When it was done, when the papers were stamped and the judge spoke the final line, the room felt too small for the moment it held.
Adrian took my hands. “We will do this again,” he said softly. “Properly. When the world is quieter.”
“I know,” I said. “But this counts.”
He smiled then, the tension easing from his face in a way I had not seen in days.
Outside, the noise rushed back in. Cameras. Shouting. Questions.
Adrian stepped forward, pulling me with him.
“This marriage is not a strategy,” he said. “It is a commitment.”
I squeezed his hand.
Before anyone could ask more, his phone rang.
He answered, listened, then closed his eyes briefly.
“Father is back in surgery,” he said quietly.
We stood there, bound together by vows spoken in a quiet room and a promise whispered in an ambulance.
Whatever came next, we would face it as one.