Chapter 4 The Wedding

Two days passed faster than I expected.

I spent most of them being careful.

Careful at breakfast… eating, answering when spoken to, giving Gerald nothing that looked like rebellion or planning. Careful with Margaux — letting her fuss over small things without pulling away, keeping my expression neutral when she mentioned Douglas Fitch’s assistant had called twice. 

Careful with Vivienne — ignoring the little watching looks she kept sending my way like she was waiting for me to crack under pressure she didn’t even know had already been redirected.

None of them suspected anything.

That was the point.

The morning of the wedding I stood in front of my mirror and took stock of what I was actually doing.

I was getting married today.

No flowers. No dress chosen months in advance. No mother adjusting a veil with tears running down her face. No father waiting at the end of an aisle with the proud steady smile I still saw sometimes in dreams and woke up reaching for.

Just a card with a phone number on it. A private address. A time.

And a text from a stranger that said don’t be late.

I put on a simple white dress I already owned — fitted, clean, nothing that announced itself. Flat shoes. The small gold necklace my father had given me on my thirteenth birthday. If this was going to happen it was going to happen with his memory close to my chest where it belonged.

I checked my watch.

Time to go.

The address led me to a building I’d passed a hundred times without ever noticing. The kind of place that existed quietly between louder ones… a registered civil ceremony office tucked between a pharmacy and an insurance firm, doing its work without needing anyone’s attention.

Inside was clean and unhurried.

A woman at the front desk looked up when I pushed through the door. “Miss Callum?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect timing. Right this way.”

She led me down a short corridor and into a small room. White walls. Two chairs facing a simple desk. A window with afternoon light filtering in at a low angle. 

Two witnesses already seated against the far wall — both strangers, both wearing the neutral expressions of people paid to be present without being involved.

Odette stood near the window.

Deep blue dress. Composed as ever. She looked at me when I entered and gave me a small nod that managed to communicate approval, reassurance and a quiet apology for the circumstances all at once.

He wasn’t there yet.

I stood near my chair and kept my breathing even.

Three minutes passed.

Then the door opened behind me.

Footsteps. Steady and measured — the kind that didn’t apologize for taking up space. The door closed. I heard Odette say quietly “You’re late” and a voice respond “By two minutes”… low, even, completely unbothered by the observation.

I turned.

My first impression was height. Then stillness. Not the stillness of calm exactly but of control — someone so practiced at managing their own presence that it had become effortless. Dark suit, no tie, collar open at the throat. Dark hair. A jaw set in what looked like permanent composure.

His eyes found me immediately.

Sharp. Steady. The kind of gaze that assessed quickly and revealed nothing about what it found.

One second of direct contact.

Then he looked toward the officiant like I was simply part of the room’s arrangement.

I looked away too.

Fine. This wasn’t that kind of wedding.

We moved to the desk when the officiant gestured — stopping beside each other with exactly enough space between us to be legally present and personally uninvolved. Close enough for signatures. Far enough for strangers.

Which we were.

“Before we begin,” the officiant said pleasantly, “could I confirm both names for the record?”

“Seraphine Callum.”

A beat of silence beside me.

“Zael Morrow.”

I filed the name away and kept my face neutral.

The ceremony was exactly what Odette had promised. 

Thirty minutes. Clean. Procedural. The officiant moved through the legal language with the efficiency of a woman who had done this hundreds of times and treated it as neither remarkable nor unremarkable… simply work that needed doing properly.

I answered when I was supposed to answer.

Beside me Zael did the same. His voice was level and unhesitating throughout in a way I couldn’t decide was reassuring or unsettling.

When it came to the rings Odette stepped forward quietly with two plain gold bands. Simple. I slid mine on without looking at it. From the corner of my eye I caught the slight tightening of Zael’s jaw when he put his on. The only visible reaction from him in thirty minutes.

“I now pronounce you legally married,” the officiant said. “You may sign the register.”

We signed.

Our hands came nowhere near each other.

The witnesses signed. Odette signed. Papers were exchanged and filed with the brisk efficiency of an office that understood not every marriage required congratulations. The officiant disappeared through a side door.

Done.

I stood holding my copy of the marriage certificate with both hands. My name next to his. Black ink on white paper. Legal and binding and completely surreal.

“Congratulations,” Odette said softly behind us.

Neither of us responded.

Zael was already moving toward the door. He paused with his hand on the frame and glanced back over his shoulder… not at Odette. At me.

“Your number,” he said. “In case something comes up.”

I read it out without hesitating.

He typed it in without looking up. Then his eyes came back to mine briefly — direct, unreadable, giving absolutely nothing away.

“I’ll be in touch if necessary.”

“Same,” I said.

One more second of that steady gaze.

Then he walked out.

I stood in the empty room and listened to his footsteps disappear down the corridor until there was nothing left to hear.

“Give it time,” Odette said quietly beside me.

I didn’t ask what she meant.

I was home before Gerald’s car returned to the driveway.

Margaux was in the garden. Vivienne’s music drifted faintly from upstairs. The house sat exactly as I’d left it — small and suffocating and entirely unaware that I had just changed everything.

I went straight to my room, changed out of the white dress and put the marriage certificate where I knew it would be safe. The inside pocket of my father’s old coat hanging at the back of my wardrobe. The one Gerald had never once touched.

Then I sat on the edge of my bed.

Married.

The ring was still on my finger. I looked at it for a moment — plain gold, quietly significant — then slid it off and placed it carefully in my jewelry box. I couldn’t wear it here yet. 

Not until I was ready for that conversation and ready wasn’t a word I’d attach to anything involving Gerald right now.

My phone vibrated.

Gerald.

Come downstairs. I have news.

The familiar cold settled in my chest. I put the phone in my pocket and went down.

He was in the living room still in his jacket, which meant he’d just arrived. Margaux perched on the sofa with her hands folded in that particular way she had when she already knew what was about to be said and had decided in advance not to react to it.

“Sit down,” Gerald said.

I sat. Not because he told me to. Because I wanted to hear this without standing over it.

“I’ve arranged a position for you.” He adjusted his jacket cuff with practiced calm. “Starting tomorrow morning. Personal assistant to a CEO. It will keep you occupied and it looks appropriate while the engagement arrangements with Douglas move forward.” A brief pause. “The appointment was arranged through a mutual contact. You’ll report directly to him.”

“What company?” I asked.

“Morrow Enterprises.”

The name moved through me like cold water.

“And the CEO?” My voice came out completely steady. 

I don’t know how.

Gerald looked at me with the mild satisfaction of a man who believed he was holding every card on the table.

“Morrow,” he said. “Zael Morrow.”

The room didn’t shift.

My face didn’t either.

But underneath every controlled inch of my expression my mind was running fast and cold and very very clear.

Zael Morrow.

My husband.

The man I had stood beside two hours ago in a civil ceremony office. The man whose jaw tightened slightly when he put on a ring he hadn’t chosen. The same man who had walked out of that room without looking back.

Tomorrow morning I was going to walk into his office and pretend I had never seen him before in my life.

Gerald thought he was setting a trap.

He had absolutely no idea he had just placed me exactly where I needed to be.

“I’ll be ready by eight,” I said.

Gerald nodded and left the room.

I stayed seated.

Margaux said something I didn’t hear.

My husband was my new boss.

And neither of us could say a word about it.