Chapter 182
Grace's POV
Two hours later, the doctor's private clinic feels more like a luxury spa than a medical facility. The CT scan results are spread across the light board, and I find myself holding my breath as Dr. Harrison points to the images.
"The pleural effusion has resolved significantly," she explains, her voice professionally reassuring. "Muscle tissue recovery is progressing excellently. I see no contraindications for travel, provided Mr. Morgan continues his medication regimen and avoids strenuous activity."
I lean forward, studying the scans myself. "And the risk of complications? What should we watch for?"
"Grace," Alex murmurs, but I ignore him.
"Any shortness of breath, chest pain, or unusual fatigue should be taken seriously," Dr. Harrison continues. "But based on these results, I'm confident he's cleared for light business activities."
Light business activities. I make a mental note to hold him to that.
---
Lucas drives us to Starport's private airport in the Rolls-Royce, and the crew members are already completing final preparations.
Inside the cabin, Alex immediately moves toward the bar. "Champagne to celebrate?"
"Absolutely not." I catch his hand before he can reach for the bottle. "You're still on medication. No alcohol."
Alex pauses, then his lips curve into that devastating smile. "Well, then I'll just have to taste it from somewhere else."
Before I can process his meaning, he's kissing me, his lips soft and warm against mine. When he pulls back, his eyes are dancing with mischief.
"Mmm," he murmurs. "Sweet. Though I think I need another taste to be sure."
This man is going to be the death of me.
"You're impossible," I breathe, but I'm smiling.
"Only for you."
During the six-hour flight, Alex insists on cutting my steak himself, his movements careful and attentive. Lucas wisely retreats to the cockpit, leaving us alone in the cabin's intimate lighting.
"You know I can use a knife, right?" I tease.
"I know." Alex doesn't look up from his task. "But I like taking care of you."
The simple statement carries so much weight.
As we begin our descent into Aetheria, I realize this feels less like a business trip and more like... a honeymoon.
---
The car ride from the airport changes everything. As the Aetherian landscape rolls past our windows, Alex's hand finds mine.
"Grace," he says, his voice carrying an unusual note of nervousness. "There's something I need to tell you about this trip."
My stomach tightens. "What kind of something?"
"The business meetings are real," he says quickly. "But that's not the only reason we're here." He turns to face me fully. "I've arranged for us to meet with the event coordinators at Elysium Heights Hotel."
Elysium Heights. Even I know that name—it's one of Aetheria's most exclusive venues.
"Alex, what—"
"I promised you a real wedding," he says, his voice soft but determined. "A ceremony worthy of you. Elysium Heights has agreed to host it. The event will be broadcast internationally as a cultural exchange program, with several royal collections on special display."
My breath catches. "You... you're serious? We're going to have a wedding there?"
"If you want it," Alex says, and I can hear the vulnerability beneath his confidence. "The ceremony is in one week, after you return from Zenoria. If you think it's not perfect enough, we can arrange something else. Another location, different arrangements—"
"Alex." My voice comes out as barely a whisper. "You really planned all of this?"
"Every detail." His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "You deserve the world, Grace. I want to give it to you."
Tears blur my vision.
Alex wants to give me everything.
"I can't believe this is real," I whisper. "Sometimes I think I'm going to wake up and find out this is all a dream."
Alex brings my hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to my palm. "Then let me prove it's real." He places my hand against his chest, over his heart. "Feel that? That's real. This—us—it's real."
His heartbeat is strong and steady under my palm. Real. Solid. Mine.
"I love you," I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "Whatever happens, whatever you become, I'll never leave you. I promise."
---
That evening at the grand hotel, we meet with the wedding planning team over dinner. The hotel manager personally escorts us through the historic ballroom where the ceremony will take place.
"The venue has hosted royalty for over two centuries," she explains, gesturing to the crystal chandeliers and gilded walls. "We're honored to add your celebration to that legacy."
Our celebration. The words feel surreal.
Alex handles most of the details with his usual efficiency, but he defers to me on every aesthetic choice. Flowers, music, menu—he wants my input on everything.
"This is your day," he murmurs during a quiet moment. "I just want to make sure you have everything you've ever dreamed of."
Everything I've ever dreamed of. The truth is, I'd stopped dreaming of weddings years ago. Richard's fake ceremony killed that particular fantasy.
But sitting here, watching Alex's face light up as we plan our future, I realize I'm dreaming again.
In the suite, I find myself too excited to sleep. But my mind keeps racing through tomorrow's schedule—dress fittings, photography locations, final venue preparations.
A real wedding. Broadcast internationally. With Alex.
I slip on a silk eye mask, trying to force myself to rest. We have an early morning, and I want to look perfect for our wedding photos.
But sleep won't come. Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of tomorrow—Alex in a tuxedo, me in a gown that actually fits, guests who are there because they want to celebrate us, not because they're obligated to attend.
After what feels like hours of restless tossing, I reach for Alex, seeking the comfort of his presence.
My hand meets empty sheets.
I sit up, pulling off the eye mask. The bedroom door is ajar, and I can hear the sound of running water from the bathroom.