Chapter 4

Three days later, Ethan arrived at City Hall twenty minutes early.

It was the first time in our eight years together that he did not keep me waiting.

Ethan stepped out of his car looking immaculate in a sharp charcoal suit.

In his hand, he held a bouquet of white roses and a velvet ring box.

Beside him stood seven-year-old Lily, wearing a matching white lace dress, her fingers tightly clutching the hem of Ethan's jacket.

Mia walked right beside them, her hand resting naturally on Ethan’s arm as if they were already a complete, inseparable unit.

Even on our wedding day, Ethan could not arrive alone.

He had brought his entire secondary family with him, as if to remind me that no matter what ceremony we were about to perform, their presence was the permanent condition of our lives.

Ethan smiled brightly as he spotted me standing near the entrance.

He walked up, his eyes full of smug satisfaction, completely convinced that his patience, his terms, and his grand compromise had won.

"See?" Ethan said, stepping close and offering me the flowers. "I told you. I’m early today. No waiting around."

He glanced proudly back at Mia and Lily, who beamed from a few paces away.

Mia stepped forward, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"Avery, thank you so much for understanding," Mia murmured.

"Lily begged Ethan to bring her. She said she wanted to watch her Daddy get married so she'd know we have a safe home forever. I told Ethan it might be awkward for you, but he insisted you wouldn't mind."

Ethan patted Mia’s shoulder reassuringly, completely blind to the absurdity of his own behavior.

"Mia is right, Avery,"

Ethan continued.

"Lily is just looking for security. Once we sign the paperwork, we'll all take the girls out to lunch to celebrate. Let's go inside. Don't let Lily down."

He believed he had solved everything.

I did not take the flowers. I did not touch his hand.

I simply looked at him.

Ethan’s smile faltered just a fraction.

"Avery? What's wrong? We don't have time to play games. The registrar is waiting."

"Ethan," I said, my voice cutting cleanly through the morning air. "You are right. You aren't late today."

A look of relief washed over his face.

He chuckled, reaching for my elbow to guide me toward the heavy glass doors.

"Good. Let's go. At least this time, I didn't make you wait."

I stepped back, pulling my arm out of his reach.

"You didn't make me wait," I said quietly. "But you came to the wrong wedding."

Ethan froze.

"What are you talking about?"

Before he could answer, the inner wooden doors of the registry office swung open.

An elderly court clerk stepped out onto the steps, holding a clipboard, looking around the plaza.

"Ms. Bennett?" the clerk called out. "Your groom has arrived."

Ethan’s face lit up.

He turned toward the clerk.

"I'm right here," Ethan said. "We're ready."

The clerk did not look at him.

The man looked past Ethan's shoulder, raising a hand to signal toward the grand marble archway behind them.

"I wasn't speaking to you," the clerk said smoothly.

Ethan’s smile vanished.

Slowly, rigid with confusion, he turned his head.

Stepping out from the inner foyer, carrying himself with a quiet, absolute certainty, was Damian Cross.

He wore a dark tailored suit, a silver watch catching the morning sun.

He didn't look like an interloper; he looked like a man who had been expected all along.

The clerk held up a thick leather folder containing the marriage documents.

"Mr. Cross," the clerk announced, nodding respectfully. "Your bride is ready."