Chapter 178 The Wedding Night Goes Dark
The priest began to speak. I barely heard the ancient words. The cathedral faded into the background. The hundreds of guests ceased to exist. It was just the two of us, standing in the bright light streaming through the stained glass windows.
"Do you have your vows?" the priest asked.
Tristan nodded. He reached out and took both of my hands. His skin felt warm. His grip was firm and steady.
"Three years ago, I gave you a piece of paper and a broken promise," Tristan said. His voice carried through the massive room, clear and unashamed. It echoed off the stone walls. "I let my fear dictate my choices. I tried to manage your life instead of sharing it. I left you in the dark. I will spend the rest of my days making up for that failure."
A quiet hush fell over the guests. The elite class was not used to hearing a man admit fault, especially not the former king of the Johnston empire. They expected a show of strength. He gave them a show of pure humility.
"Today, I offer you the truth," Tristan continued. His thumbs brushed across the backs of my hands. "I do not want to protect a legacy. I do not want an empire. I only want you. I promise to stand beside you. I promise to never make a decision in the shadows again. I promise to be a father to our son, and a partner to you. Equal in all things."
My throat tightened. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I did not let them fall. These were not tears of pain. They were tears of a hard-won victory.
I squeezed his hands.
"I survived a world that tried to erase me," I said. My voice echoed against the high ceiling, strong and clear. "I built my own armor. I do not need you to save me, Tristan. I need you to stand with me."
I looked into his gray eyes. I saw the man who bled on the concrete to clear my name. I saw the man who gave up his pride to give me peace.
"I forgive the past," I told him. "I accept this future. I promise to hold you to your word. I promise to build a life with you that is our own. No secrets. No hiding."
The priest smiled. "The rings."
Elias stepped forward, holding a small velvet pillow. Tristan picked up a plain gold band. No massive diamond to show off his wealth. No heavy jewel to mark me as his property. Just a simple, unbreakable circle. He slid it onto my finger.
I picked up the matching band and slid it onto his hand.
"I pronounce you husband and wife," the priest declared.
Tristan did not wait for the final blessing. He pulled me in. His mouth met mine. It was a fierce, grounding kiss. It wiped away the memory of the cold courthouse. It wiped away the memory of Celeste standing in the ballroom three years ago. There was no shame in this room. There was no second woman waiting in the wings. There was only me.
The reception took place in the grand hall of the historic estate adjacent to the cathedral. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the white floral arrangements. Waiters carried silver trays of drinks through the crowd.
I stood near the large arched windows. I watched the elite class mingle. They spoke in hushed tones, casting nervous glances in my direction. They were trying to figure out how to navigate the new hierarchy.
A woman approached me. Valentina Rosales. She wore a sharp black dress, her dark hair pulled back. She stopped two feet away and offered a respectful nod.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Johnston," Valentina said.
"I kept my name, Valentina," I corrected her. "Minerva Hayes."
Valentina offered a faint smile. "Of course. The board members are drinking your wine, but they are terrified. Harriet Montgomery's shares are officially liquidated. You own eighty percent of the voting power. You hold their financial lives in your hands."
"Good," I said. "Let them be terrified."
Tristan walked up beside me. He handed me a glass of sparkling water. He remembered I hated alcohol at these events. He slipped his arm around my waist. The gesture was natural, effortless. He did not pull me tight to claim me in front of the crowd. He just rested his hand there, a steady presence.
"Are you tired?" he asked.
"No," I replied. I leaned against his shoulder. "I feel awake."
We stood together, watching the room. I had taken the empire. I had claimed the man I loved on my own terms. I had secured my son's future. The revenge was complete. The healing was underway. I looked at Elias, who was eating a slice of cake at a nearby table, guarded by Marcus.
Everything was exactly where it needed to be.
But as the string quartet began a new piece, the heavy doors at the back of the hall opened.
Marcus turned his head. His posture shifted from relaxed to alert. He touched the earpiece hidden in his ear. He listened for a second, his jaw tightening.
He left Elias with the nanny and walked through the crowd. He walked past the smiling guests and stopped directly in front of us.
"Mina," Marcus said. His voice was low, meant only for us.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I just received a call from the warden at the federal detention center," Marcus said.
Tristan stiffened. He moved slightly in front of me, an old instinct flaring to life. "Is it Thomas Whitmore?"
"No," Marcus replied. He looked at me, deep worry lines creasing his forehead. "It is Celeste. She did not show up for the evening head count. The guards checked her maximum-security cell."
My stomach dropped. The cold air returned, brushing against my spine. "And?"
"The cell was empty," Marcus said. "She is gone."