Chapter 180

Chapter 180

A few wisteria petals drifted loose in the wind, landing on their shoulders and the tablecloth—pale purple, light and soft.

---

The wedding was held a month later.

It was far bigger than Victoria had expected. Veda later admitted that the proposal had just been the warm-up. The wedding was what Edward had actually been planning for two months.

Possibly much longer than that.

The venue was a historic estate outside the city. The lawn was trimmed smooth as velvet, and white floral arches stretched from the entrance all the way to the end of the ceremony aisle.

Victoria wore a simple white gown that day—no train, no elaborate embroidery—but the fine hand-stitched line along the neckline echoed the pattern on Edward's tie pin in a subtle, deliberate match.

As she walked through the floral arches, she saw Edward standing at the center of the ceremony space. Yara was beside him in a little white tulle dress, serving as flower girl, clutching a basket of petals and waving at her.

Nolan walked her down the flower-lined path.

His pace was slow but steady. When they reached Edward, he placed his daughter's hand in his.

Nolan looked at Edward and said something unrehearsed. "Don't let her suffer anymore."

Edward took Victoria's hand and met Nolan's eyes. "I won't. I'll take care of her. Always."

Nolan stepped to the side and took his seat. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed at the corner of his eye, and exchanged a quiet smile with Rhea beside him.

---

Victoria stood facing Edward, looking into his eyes.

She remembered the first time she'd seen him at the Windsor Group tower—just a vague silhouette. Then the contract signing, the gala...

It felt like an eternity had passed, yet looking back, every step seemed inevitable.

Like the jewelry collection she'd spent two months designing—from the first rough sketch to the final polished piece, reworked and refined countless times, each revision better than the last.

"Victoria."

Edward's voice was low, pitched for her ears alone. "You once asked me if I'd thought about the future. I have my answer now."

She looked at him. "Let's hear it."

"From now on, I won't rush you to eat when you're drawing. I'll build Yara's swing set myself. Your father can live wherever he wants—I'll arrange it. You can swap out the ring if you get tired of it, but you can't swap out the person."

That last line curved her lips. In front of everyone watching, she rose on her toes and brushed her lips lightly against his.

From below came Yara's shriek—"Mommy kissed Daddy!"—and Veda's cheering.

White rose petals shook loose from the floral arch and drifted to their feet, thin and delicate against the pale carpet.

---

That evening, after the last guests had gone, Victoria leaned against the railing of the estate's terrace. Her left hand rested on the wrought-iron rail, both rings stacked together, catching the moonlight in a clean, bright line.

Edward came out from inside and walked to her side, carrying two glasses of champagne. He handed her one.

She took it but didn't drink. Just held it.

"The jewelry collection."

She spoke first. "They said first-week sales broke their all-time record. A few overseas galleries emailed too—they want to collaborate on the next series."

"Are you going to take it?"

"Yes."

Victoria tilted her head toward him. "But I have one condition. When I travel, you bring Yara."

Edward took a sip of champagne. "No need to travel. I'll fly the gallery people here."

Victoria nearly choked on her drink. She turned to stare at him. "You'll fly them here?"

Classic CEO move.

Saying it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I'll cover flights and hotels."

His tone left no room for debate. "You stay here and paint. No need to go anywhere."

Victoria studied his profile. Moonlight rested on his shoulder, softening every sharp angle.

She ducked her head and laughed quietly, then turned back to gaze at the blurred silhouettes of trees in the distant darkness.

The night breeze was cool and gentle. The terrace was perfectly still, broken only by the occasional chirp of crickets in the distance.

She held her glass.

Time was a strange thing. It had taken so much from her. But slowly, piece by piece, it had set things back within her reach.

She turned to him. "Edward."

"Hmm?"

He tilted his head toward her, his gaze impossibly soft in the dark.

"It's going to stay like this, isn't it?"

Victoria smiled. "I want it to be like this. Always."

He set his glass on the railing, turned to face her, and reached out to tuck a windblown strand of hair behind her ear.

"It will."

He said, "You're not getting away from me."

Victoria didn't argue.

She'd never once thought about leaving.

She'd trusted the wrong people before. Been let down because of it.

But Edward was different.

She was willing to believe in him. Willing to give him that chance.

She set her glass down too, stepped forward, and leaned into his chest, her cheek pressing against the front of his jacket.

The night wind rustled the vines on the trellis. At the far edge of the lawn, someone was taking down the wedding string lights, one by one, each winking out in turn.

But the light on the terrace stayed on.

She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat through the fabric—steady, clear, one beat after another.

---

Victoria's jewelry collection exploded in popularity a few months later. Every major brand wanted to collaborate with her.

Her name was everywhere. Overnight, she became a globally renowned designer.

Her work appeared in the most prestigious jewelry houses around the world.

The collection was featured in magazines across multiple countries. Lifestyle outlets coined the title 'genius designer.'

Some used the story of her hand injury to celebrate her resilience.

But none of it mattered much to the woman herself.

At that moment, Victoria was in the study of her own home. Outside the window stood the swing set Edward had built for Yara.

Yara had grown so much taller. She sat on the swing kicking her legs, laughing with the neighbor's kid.

Nolan was in the next room listening to the radio. Rhea sat in the living room leafing through an old photo album. Tucked between its pages was a photograph taken beneath a flower trellis.

Wisteria cascading down. A woman clutching a bunch of wildflowers, her lips curved in a soft, radiant smile.

It was from the day Victoria was proposed to.

From the study window, Victoria's view framed both the swing and the figure standing beside it, pushing their daughter higher.

She closed the magazine, slid it onto the bookshelf, and walked out toward the yard.

The girl on the swing spotted her and waved. "Mommy!"

Victoria called back and walked over. Sunlight lay across the lawn in warm, bright sheets, one patch flowing into the next.

The sky was perfect. Everyone she loved—and everyone who loved her—was right here.

No matter what days lay ahead, she would remember this moment.