Chapter 61 THE BIG DAY: FINALLY

Chapter 61 THE BIG DAY: FINALLY
Two weeks. That’s all it took for my entire life to go from a literal crime documentary back to a fairy tale.

After the drama at the docks, things moved fast. Alan was officially out of the picture, and the news was buzzing about the "scandal of the century," but I wasn't even looking at my phone.

I had a wedding to finish. My mom and Eleanor had somehow formed this "super-team" of mother-in-laws, and even though they are both terrifying in their own way, they made sure everything was perfect.

By the time I woke up on the morning of the wedding, I felt… weirdly calm. No anonymous texts. No villains in the garden. Just the sound of the ocean outside the window of the Simmons estate.

"Wake up, bridezilla!" Rose yelled, jumping on my bed.

"I'm not a bridezilla," I groaned, pulling the duvet over my head. "I'm a survivor. There's a difference."

Rosa walked in with a tray of fruit and—most importantly—iced coffee. "Whatever you are, you’re getting married in six hours. Drink this. We have a lot of face to put on."

The morning was a blur of hairspray, silk robes, and my sisters making TikToks of the whole process.

My mom walked in halfway through my makeup, and for the first time, she wasn't on her phone. She didn't have a clipboard. She just looked at me and teared up.

"Althea," she said, her voice soft. "You look… exactly like I hoped you would."

"Expensive?" I joked, trying to keep from crying and ruining my lashes.

"Happy," she corrected. "And safe."
That hit me hard. After everything with JC and Alan, "safe" was the best thing I could possibly be.
My dress was a literal masterpiece.

It was a custom Simmons design—classic, sleek, and sparkling just enough to catch the light. When I finally stood up and looked in the full-length mirror, I didn't see the girl who was scared of her own shadow.

I saw a woman who had walked through fire and came out looking like gold.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Let’s go get me a husband."

The venue was an outdoor cathedral of white flowers. My mom had basically bought out every florist in the state.

Thousands of white roses lined the aisle, and the scent was so sweet it made my head spin.
As I stood at the back, waiting for the music to start, I saw Eleanor sitting in the front row.

She was holding the baby—her actual, biological daughter—and she looked at peace. She caught my eye and gave me a tiny, genuine smile. No drama. No shade. Just family.

Then the music shifted. The heavy doors opened.
The first thing I saw was Rowan.

He was standing at the altar, looking like he’d stepped straight out of a movie. He looked so handsome in his black tux that I literally forgot how to walk for a second.

His eyes were locked on mine, and I could see them shining. He wasn't just my fiancé anymore. He was my partner, the person who had fought for me through every single mess we’d faced.

Walking down the aisle felt like it took a million years and also one second. When I finally reached him, he took my hands. His palms were a little sweaty, which made me giggle because it was the most "Rowan" thing ever.

"You look unreal," he whispered.
"You're not so bad yourself," I whispered back.
The ceremony was short and sweet.

We didn't need long speeches or fancy poems. We just needed to say the words. When the priest said, "You may now kiss the bride," Rowan didn't even wait.

He pulled me in and kissed me like the world was ending, and for a second, the cheers from the crowd just faded into the background.
We were finally, officially, Mr. and Mrs. Pierce.

The reception was a total rager. My mom had gone all out—live bands, a ten-tier cake, and a dance floor that was literally glowing.

Theo was the life of the party, obviously. He kept dragging people onto the floor and making them do the latest dances.

At one point, I even saw my mom and Eleanor sharing a glass of champagne and laughing. I didn't ask what they were talking about; I just thanked the universe that they weren't fighting.
Rowan and I were sitting at the sweetheart table, watching everyone have the time of their lives.

"Can you believe we made it?" I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"I always knew we would," he said, kissing the top of my head. "Even when the drama was at its peak, I knew I was going to end up here with you."
"Even with the baby swaps and the altar-leaving and the blacklisting?"

"Especially then," he laughed. "It just proved that we're basically untouchable."

We had our first dance to a slow, soulful song, and I felt like I was floating. Every step felt like we were leaving the old drama behind and stepping into something new. Something clean.

Toward the end of the night, Rowan stood up to give a toast. He didn't have any notes. He just looked at the room, then at me.

"A lot of people say that weddings are the start of a journey," he said into the mic. "But for Althea and me, it feels more like the finish line of a very long, very crazy race.

We’ve had people try to tear us apart, people try to lie to us, and people try to ruin our names. But look around."

He gestured to the room.
"We’re still here. Our families are stronger. And most importantly, I’m married to the strongest woman I’ve ever met.

Althea, thank you for not running when things got weird. Thank you for trusting me. I love you more than I can say."

Everyone cheered, and I felt my heart swell so much I thought it might burst. I stood up and took the mic from him.
"I'm not much of a speaker," I said, looking at our friends and family. "But I just want to say one thing. For a long time, I was scared of the secrets in this world.

But today showed me that secrets have no power when you have the truth on your side. And also, having a mom like Isabella Simmons helps."
The room erupted in laughter, and my mom raised her glass with a wink.

By 1:00 AM, my feet were killing me, and my hair was a mess, but I was the happiest I’d ever been. We changed into our "getaway" outfits—me in a short white silk dress and Rowan in a casual linen shirt.
Our car was waiting outside, covered in "Just Married" signs and tin cans. Our friends were all standing there with sparklers, lighting up the night.
"Ready to go?" Rowan asked, holding the car door open for me.
"Where are we even going?" I asked.
"A private island," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "No cell service. No cameras. No drama. Just us and the ocean."
"That sounds like heaven," I breathed.

As we drove away, I looked back at the lights of the estate. I thought about JC, wherever she was. I thought about Alan in his cell. I thought about the nurse who saved a baby and the mother who found her daughter.

Life is messy. It’s loud, and sometimes it’s straight-up scary. But as I looked at the gold band on my finger and the man sitting next to me, I knew that no matter what came next, we’d handle it.
The Simmons-Pierce era had officially begun. And honestly? It was going to be iconic.