I moved across the room and unzipped the garment bag.

The dress slipped easily into my hands. My mother laid it across the bed before the bedroom filled with people carrying brushes, flowers, cameras and steaming cups of coffee.

The next two hours became everyone's except mine.

The stylist pinned my hair into place while the makeup artist worked in silence. The photographer asked for pictures by the window, then beside the wardrobe, then near the fireplace.

"One more."

"You've said that four times."

He laughed nervously.

"This really is the last."

I stood where he asked.

The camera clicked.

"Perfect."

"I wasn't aiming for perfect."

By the time everyone stepped back, my phone vibrated on the dressing table.

Ryan sent a message:

Just making sure you're okay on your big day 🙂

I replied with only three words.

I'll be fine.

Before another message arrived, I locked the screen.

My mother picked up the bouquet and handed it to me.

"Ready?"

"No."

"I didn't think you would be."

She adjusted the cuff of my sleeve, then smiled.

"You chose the right dress."

"I know."

Another knock echoed from downstairs.

My father's voice carried through the hallway.

"The cars are here."

The house suddenly became busy again.

Someone collected my overnight case. Another person carried the veil downstairs.

The florist apologised because one arrangement had arrived in the wrong shade.

Nobody seemed surprised.

My father waited beside the front door.

He looked at me for several moments before speaking.

"You look like yourself."

"I was hoping I would."

He offered his arm.

We stepped outside together.

Our neighbours watched discreetly from their gardens while photographers gathered across the road.

The drive to the church took less than twenty minutes.

The police had already closed part of the street, and television crews stood behind barriers.

The moment my car stopped, flashes bounced against the windows.

One of the officers opened the door.

My father stepped out first, then helped me onto the pavement.

Questions flew from every direction.

"Miss Hayes!"

"Avalan!"

"Will you be taking the Vale name?"

"How do you feel?"

I ignored every one of them.

Inside the church, the noise disappeared almost immediately.

Solemn music filled the church.

Every guest rose as I stepped in.

I recognised politicians, investors, developers and people whose photographs appeared more often in financial newspapers than society magazines.

Near the centre aisle sat Arthur Bell and Martin.

Arthur lifted his hand in greeting.

Martin nodded.

A few rows behind them sat Ryan.

Our eyes met for only a second.

He smiled once. It wasn't a happy smile, just a quiet reminder that he was there.

Then I reached the front.

Shadric waited beside the minister.

He wore the same unreadable calm he'd had three nights earlier in the gardens.

My father placed my hand in Shadric's. Neither man spoke.

Then the ceremony began.

The minister welcomed everyone before reading through the opening passages.

The church remained still. Even the photographers moved carefully.

Halfway through the service, the minister invited us to face one another.

Before he continued, Shadric spoke quietly.

"You don't have to smile."

"I wasn't planning to."

"I know."

The vows followed.

I repeated every word clearly.

Not because I believed them, but because I had decided long ago that nothing, not even this, would make me appear uncertain.

When it was Shadric's turn, his voice remained calm from beginning to end.

The minister closed the book.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Applause followed.

"You may kiss the bride."

Several cameras lifted together.

Shadric leaned slightly closer.

"I'm not giving them a performance."

Before anyone could misunderstand, he placed a brief kiss against my forehead.

A ripple of whispers travelled through the pews.

Then applause filled the church again.

We walked back down the aisle together.

Outside, reporters surged towards the barriers again.

Richard stepped forward before anyone else reached us.

"One family photograph."

The photographer quickly arranged everyone.

"Closer together, please."

Nobody moved.

He accepted defeat and took the picture anyway.

More photographs followed.

With both families. With the bridal party. With the Vale board.

By the end, even the photographer looked exhausted.

The reception occupied almost the entire ground floor of the Vale estate.

Music drifted through the entrance hall while staff carried silver trays between groups of guests.

Richard disappeared almost immediately into a conversation with investors.

Victoria welcomed relatives.

Clara escaped towards the terrace before anyone could stop her.

I had barely stepped inside when Arthur approached.

"Mrs Vale."

"I still answer to Avalan."

"I was hoping you would."

We both laughed softly.

Martin joined us, carrying two glasses of sparkling water.

"I thought somebody should bring you something that isn't champagne."

"I appreciate your faith in my judgement."

Arthur smiled.

"I heard the Vale Quarter presentation is officially yours."

"It is."

"The board wanted someone experienced."

"They're getting someone prepared."

Martin laughed.

"That's exactly why we promoted you."

Arthur raised his glass.

"Congratulations, Senior Strategy Consultant."

"Thank you."

"For that," he added. "Not the wedding."

"I assumed."

Several executives nearby overheard the conversation.

One after another, they offered congratulations.

None of them mentioned me becoming a Vale. Every one of them spoke about Hartwell. About campaigns. Strategy. Work.

Those conversations lasted only minutes, but they mattered more than I expected.

A member of staff approached.

"The registrar is ready."

I followed him into Richard's study.

The marriage register rested on the desk beside two fountain pens.

The registrar smiled politely.

"If you'll sign here."

I picked up the pen first.

The ink dried almost instantly.

Avalan Vale.

For a moment, I stared at the ink.

It didn't look like my name.

I stepped aside.

Shadric signed beneath my name.

The registrar closed the book with a satisfied smile.

"It is official. Congratulations."

The study door opened before either of us answered.

An elderly gentleman entered carrying a walking stick.

"There you are, Richard."

Richard moved to the other side of the room at once.

"Edward."

The older man's attention moved towards me.

His steps slowed.

"So... is that the girl?"

Richard answered immediately.

"Edward, have you reviewed tomorrow's board papers?"

The question seemed to confuse him.

"I wasn't talking about the board."

"I need your opinion before lunch."

Edward looked back at me.

"I could have sworn she..."

"Come with me."

Richard rested a hand on his arm and steered him towards the hallway.

The door closed behind them.

I looked at Shadric.

"Who is he?"

"Edward Ashcombe."

"He knows me."

"I don't know."

"He recognised me."

"He recognised something."

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Answering without answering."

Before he could reply, Martin appeared at the doorway.

"Richard wants everyone in the ballroom."

We followed him back.

The guests gathered near the grand staircase while photographers prepared for another round of pictures.

Richard stood at the front with a champagne glass raised.

"My friends..."

Conversations faded.

"Today marks more than the joining of two families."

Applause rose around the ballroom.

I barely heard it.

Across the ballroom, Edward never looked at Richard again.

His eyes stayed on me.

Then he whispered, "No..."

"It can't be."

"She looks exactly like her."

I was the one who said yes, but somehow, everything started slipping out of my hands.

Everyone became busy at once, discussing dates, venues, and arrangements as though my yes had opened a door they had all been waiting to walk through.

I pressed my palms together in my lap.

Saying yes had been my decision.

What happened after it apparently belonged to everyone else.

"…we should keep it simple but elegant," my mother was saying. She was already thinking ahead. Her voice carried a kind of excitement I hadn't heard in a long time.

Victoria Vale nodded. "Something elegant. Nothing excessive."

"And preferably soon," Richard added.

I looked at him.

"How soon?"

The conversation stopped.

Richard turned towards me. "Nothing has been decided."

"You just said soon."

"I meant there's no reason for a long engagement if both of you have agreed."

"Both of us agreed five minutes ago."

My father shifted forward. "Avalan, no one is trying to rush you."

"You're discussing dates already."

"We're discussing possibilities."

"That sounds suspiciously similar."

Victoria laughed quietly.

"She has a point."

Richard glanced at his wife.

"I said nothing had been decided."

"And yet you've already shortened their engagement," she replied.

"I suggested it."

"Very efficiently."

My mother smiled.

For a moment, the conversation became almost normal.

That was the strange part.

Seven years of anger sat between Shadric and me, while our parents argued about wedding arrangements as though the biggest problem in the room was how quickly they could organise one.

Victoria turned to her son.

"What do you think?"

Everyone looked at Shadric.

He had barely spoken since I accepted.

His attention moved to me.

"The timing should be Avalan's decision."

I stared at him.

Richard leaned back. "You have no preference?"

"I have several. None of them matters if she doesn't agree."

I hadn't expected that.

For some reason, I had expected him to support his father. To tell me there was some practical reason the marriage needed to happen quickly.

Instead, he had handed the decision back to me.

"Avalan?"

My father's voice cut through my thoughts, steady but careful.

When I looked up, he wasn't smiling with the others.

"What do you think?"

I forced a small nod, keeping my expression calm. "It's fine."

"What is?" Victoria asked.

"The wedding. The timing. Whatever everyone has apparently decided to organise before dinner."

My mother laughed.

"We haven't decided anything."

"You could have fooled me."

Richard looked at me. "Would you prefer a long engagement?"

I glanced at Shadric.

He was watching me again.

"No."

My parents exchanged a look with the Vales.

"Then we can discuss possible dates when we meet again," my father said.

That was apparently enough.

Within seconds, they were discussing dates again.

While everyone else planned around us, Shadric watched more than he spoke.

I couldn't decide whether he regretted asking or hadn't expected me to agree.

I looked up.

Shadric was already watching me.

For a second, neither of us looked away.

Then Victoria asked him something about the guest list, and he turned towards her.

He had proposed the marriage.

Yet somehow, I was the one who had surprised him.

Why?

"We should give them some room to make decisions themselves," my mother said.

"Finally," I muttered.

She ignored me.

"You two should spend some time together before the next meeting."

I looked at her.

"What?"

"Without all of us sitting around you."

"That sounds suspiciously like a date."

"It can be a conversation."

"With dinner," Victoria added.

"That sounds even more like a date."

My father laughed.

I looked around the room.

No one appeared to understand the absurdity of what they were suggesting.

Then I looked at Shadric.

He wasn't laughing.

"Do you have a problem with it?" I asked.

"No."

Of course he didn't.

"Neither do I."

The answer left my mouth before I could reconsider it.

My mother nodded, apparently satisfied.

But the reality came a second later.

I had just agreed to spend time alone with Shadric.

Just us.

Maybe that was exactly what I needed.

I couldn't marry a man I couldn't sit across a table from.

And if I wanted revenge, avoiding him would accomplish nothing.

By the time the discussion ended, our parents had agreed to meet again about the arrangements.

"I'll be in my room," I said, standing before anyone could stop me.

The moment I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me, the silence felt different.

I leaned against the door and closed my eyes.

I had done it.

I had agreed to marry Shadric Vale.

I pushed myself away from the door and walked towards the window, my movements slower now, as if my body were finally catching up with everything my mind had been trying to avoid.

I knew why I had said yes.

Revenge sounded simple when it existed only in my head.

Marrying him made it real.

I opened my eyes.

Could I live beside Shadric long enough to make him pay for what I believed he had done?

I had better learn.

Because humiliating him once would never be enough.

If I wanted him to understand what he had done to me, I needed more than anger.

And I would have to make sure seventeen-year-old Avalan didn't get in the way.

A soft knock came at the door.

My mother opened it halfway and poked her head inside.

"Can I come in?"

"You're already halfway here."

"I can go back out and try again."

Without intending to, I almost smiled.

"Stay."

My mother came closer.

"You surprised me downstairs."

"I surprised myself."

She observed me for a moment.

"We want this to be your decision. It's not something we arrange, and you feel forced to accept."

"You all seemed very prepared for me to say yes."

"Prepared isn't the same as deciding for you."

"You had wedding plans ready."

"We had a conversation ready. Your father has apparently turned that into an international summit."

I laughed before I could stop myself.

She sat beside me.

Then the humour disappeared.

"You and Shadric haven't spoken properly in years."

"No."

"And now you're marrying him."

"That appears to be how today is going."

"Avalan."

I knew that tone.

"What?"

"I know what happened between you two."

I looked at her.

"I know something happened between you two."

I looked at her.

"You know some of it."

"You made sure of that."

I looked away.

She was right.

After everything happened, I told my parents enough to explain why I wanted nothing to do with Shadric.

But not enough to make them understand what it had actually done to me.

"You stopped talking about him," she continued. "You didn't want anyone mentioning the Vales around you. Then, eventually, you behaved as though none of it mattered."

"It doesn't."

My mother was quiet.

I turned towards her.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to."

She reached for my hand.

"I don't need you to tell me what happened tonight. But I need you to be honest with yourself about why you said yes."

I pulled my hand away gently.

"Do you want me to refuse him?"

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

"Honesty."

For a moment, I couldn't answer.

Because that was exactly the question I didn't want to answer.

"That doesn't mean you have to go through with it if you're unsure," she continued. "You deserve to be happy, Avalan."

"I'm not changing my mind."

"That isn't what I asked."

I looked at her.

"Then what are you asking?"

"Whether marrying Shadric is something you actually want."

I couldn't give her the real answer.

"I'm going through with it."

My mother looked at me for another moment, then sighed and walked towards the door.

"You should be sure," she said before leaving.

The door closed behind her.

Shortly after, I heard it.

Footsteps.

They stopped outside my door.

A knock followed.

I didn't move.

I didn't need to ask who it was.

I already knew.

Shadric.

Seven years ago, I had run before he could explain anything.

This time, I wasn't running.

Another knock.

"Avalan."

His voice travelled through the door.

I crossed the room and wrapped my fingers around the handle.

If I was going to marry my enemy, I needed to figure out how to stand in the same room with him without letting the past control me.

I opened the door.

Shadric stood on the other side.

Alone.

"We need to talk."

I tightened my grip on the handle.

"You've had seven years."

He said nothing.

That familiar silence irritated me more than an argument would have.

"You have absolutely no right to come up here," I said through clenched teeth, fighting to keep my voice steady."

"Then we can talk here."

He remained in the doorway.

A sharp, unamusing laugh bubbled up in my throat.

"You want to talk?" I echoed, mocking him.

"You disappear for years, and now you suddenly want a chat?"

His jaw ticked.

"I fully expected you to reject the proposal," he admitted, his voice low.

"Then why propose at all?"

"Because the families wanted the arrangement."

"And you?"

He paused.

"I agreed."

"Just like that?"

"It wasn't just like that."

"Then explain it."

"There were discussions."

"Between whom?"

"Our parents. The families."

"Except me."

"You were always going to have the final choice."

I laughed.

"How generous."

"Would you rather I had decided for you?"

"I would rather you hadn't walked back into my life with a marriage proposal after seven years of silence."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"And I'm not interested in answering your questions."

"You agreed to marry me."

"And I fully expected you to have the decency to stay dead to me. It looks like neither of us is getting what we wanted."

"You are furious," he noted quietly.

I stared at him.

"Are you actually serious right now?"

"Yet you gave your consent."

"Maybe I changed my mind."

"About me?"

"About marriage."

"To me."

I stared at him.

"You're very interested in the distinction."

"I have reason to be."

"Why? Afraid I might have motives of my own?"

He didn't answer.

That irritated me.

"You came here expecting me to refuse you. Instead, I agreed. Now you're standing outside my bedroom trying to work out why."

"Yes."

At least he admitted it.

"Then keep wondering."

I folded my arms.

"Does my consent ruin your little game?"

"You don't know what you're walking into."

I gave a dry laugh.

"That's rich, coming from the man I blame for destroying me."

"You are still entirely convinced that you know the whole story."

"I know what I saw."

"No. You know what you were shown."

"I was there."

"So was I."

"Exactly."

"That doesn't mean you saw everything."

"I saw enough."

"Did you?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Stand here seven years later and try to make me question my own memory."

"I'm asking you to question what you concluded from it."

"I didn't conclude anything. I watched it happen."

"You watched part of it happen."

"My letter was being read in front of everyone. People were filming."

"Yes."

"They were laughing."

"I know."

"And you were there, doing nothing."

"That's what you believed I was doing."

"Then which part exactly have I imagined?"

"None of it."

I let out a short breath.

"Then what are we arguing about?"

"Who caused it."

I stared at him.

"So that's your defence? Someone else caused it?"

"It isn't a defence."

"Then why did you stand there?"

Shadric dragged a hand through his hair.

"It was never supposed to happen that way."

I stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm saying what happened to you was planned. Just not by me."

"You still stood there and let them humiliate me."

"Do you know what happened to me afterwards?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I couldn't look people in the eye for months. Every time someone said your name, I remembered that day."

"I know."

"Stop saying that."

"Why?"

"Because you don't get to know. You don't get to stand there and tell me you knew what was happening to me when you did nothing about it."

"You wouldn't speak to me."

"I shouldn't have had to."

"No. You shouldn't."

I cupped a hand over my mouth and drew a slow breath through my nose.

I had expected an argument.

He gave me none.

"Then don't stand there now pretending seven years of silence can be fixed by telling me I misunderstood."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me."

"Good."

"I'm asking you to stop blaming me for something I didn't do."

I looked away and shook my head.

"No," I rasped, stepping back. "No, I'm not doing this with you. Don't do that."

"Do what, Avalan?"

"Act like my pain suddenly matters to you after all this time."

"It never stopped mattering."

I hated the way he said it.

Quietly. Without asking me to believe him.

"You don't get to say things like that."

"Why?"

"Because they mean nothing now."

"Then let them mean nothing."

"You think that's clever?"

"No."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"For you to know the truth."

I laughed.

"You propose marriage and come upstairs to challenge everything I've believed for seven years, and now you're offering me the truth?"

"I'm offering you the chance to question what you believe."

"You already told me I don't know what I'm walking into."

"You don't."

"Then tell me."

Shadric was quiet.

"Can't talk anymore?"

"The person who planned what happened that day wasn't me."

I stared at him.

"Then who was it?"

Shadric said nothing.

"Who?"

His answer came quietly.

"That's the problem, Avalan. You never stayed long enough to ask."