Chapter 54

Ava’s POV

I had pictured my wedding day only once, as a child, and it had always been a perfect, precise image: a grand hall draped in white. Nothing would be out of place; the flowers would be flawless, and at the entrance, a large mirror—placed there by my parents—would allow everyone to ensure they looked their best before entering. Perfection was all I knew, yet I cherished that vision of the wedding I hoped to have.

In that childhood vision, a faceless little boy waited for me at the end of the aisle—a figure without a name or identity.

My wedding to Dylan felt nothing like that image. Being fated mates and his family ties to Uncle Damien were the only reasons it happened at all. Something always felt wrong, misaligned with my childhood dream.

Now, walking down the aisle again, every step felt like something from a secretly cherished fairytale. Everything looked exactly as my inner child wished—perfect in every way. And the boy was now a man, with a face—Grayson’s face.

A tug pulled me back to reality as Isabella’s voice shattered the dream. Bouncing on my bed, she practically screamed, “It’s our wedding day! Wake up, wake up!”

I groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over my head. “Since it’s our wedding, you marry him, and we’ll switch later,” I mumbled. “I still need to sleep.”

She smacked me with another pillow, refusing to give up. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Lilian! Get up! Eliza’s already on her way back with the bridesmaid dresses, and the hair and makeup people are practically at the door. We need to get moving if we want to make it to the venue on time. Grayson sent the location to Eliza, and I forwarded it to Uncle Damien. You’re lucky I let you sleep in this long!”

I threw a mock glare her way, launching my pillow at her. “I hate you.”

“And I love you too. Now, let’s get you married,” she said with a contagious grin.

Those were the last words of sanity before the day accelerated. Everything was a blur: hair, makeup, gown fittings, the practiced smile, the slow, deliberate steps. Isabella barked orders, keeping me moving. My excitement bubbled beneath the surface, spilling out in shy glances and faint smiles.

Getting married to Dylan had never felt like this—more like a burden, an expectation I was fulfilling. But with Grayson… even though I knew this marriage was temporary, I couldn’t deny how the idea of marrying him stirred something strange and beautiful within me.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman looking back. The gown hugged me perfectly, sleek and timeless, sophisticated yet simple and stunning. It fit like a dream. There were no excessive frills or jewels—just enough detail to make it special. I looked elegant, confident.

My face was framed by waves of dark hair, flowing around me like liquid midnight, enhancing every angle. My eyes, those shifting shades of blue that could see right through someone, seemed more intense than usual, surrounded by long, dark lashes that Isabella insisted needed to be “just dramatic enough.”

I closed my eyes, letting the scene sink in as the car took me to the venue and I made my way to the waiting room. I pictured this moment playing out. My heart swelled; it was beautiful, more than I’d hoped for.

Uncle Damien’s voice broke into my thoughts, drawing me back to the present. “You look beautiful, Little Dove,” he said. “Are you ready?”

I opened my eyes, met his gaze in the mirror, and gave a small nod. “Yes, I am,” I whispered, barely believing it myself.

Uncle Damien took my hand, and together we walked down the aisle. The hall was filled with guests—over a thousand pairs of eyes watching me—but I only saw him: Grayson, standing at the other end. His face was unreadable, cold as stone, radiating controlled power and intensity. He belonged there, an immovable force, a king awaiting his queen.

I felt Isabella and Eliza’s supportive presence behind me. For a brief moment, I scanned the crowd, instinctively searching for my parents, hoping they’d show up. They weren’t there. I knew they wouldn't be, yet the sting lingered, sharper than I wanted to admit.

Reaching Grayson, he held my gaze, his eyes revealing nothing. The priest began the ceremony, my heart pounding; each word pushed us closer to the moment of truth. Grayson’s face remained impassive, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that his mind was elsewhere, detached and distant.

We reached the vows, and I braced myself for them to be skipped. Knowing Grayson, sentimentality wasn't his style.

But then, as the priest prompted us, Grayson turned, a slight shift in his expression. I expected nothing, but his voice surprised me—low, curt, with a gentle yet commanding edge. His gaze remained steady as he spoke, his voice low and controlled, each word precise.

“I didn’t expect to find myself here, standing before you,” he began, a subtle edge to his tone, “but here I am. I won’t promise things I don’t believe in, or pretend to be something I’m not. But Ava, I’ll stand beside you—not because it’s expected, but because it’s a choice I’m willing to make. As long as you need me. I’ll be here, even when things are difficult, even when it would be easier to walk away.”

He paused, his eyes softening briefly before he masked it with his usual cool composure. The words were simple, almost restrained, but held a gravity that kept me rooted, as though he’d given me something unspoken—a promise without embellishment, but with a strange, unyielding loyalty.

I took a steadying breath, searching for genuine words to match the whirlwind that brought us here. “Grayson, this might seem sudden. Maybe even reckless,” I began, my voice a little shaky but growing stronger. “But being here, standing in front of you—it feels like it’s exactly where I’m meant to be.”

I looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between us. “With you, things make sense in a way I can’t explain. I may not know where this path will take us, but I know this is where I’m supposed to be, with you. And I’m willing to trust in that, to trust in us.”

The words felt bare, vulnerable, and it scared me how true they sounded. A faint flicker in his eyes hinted at surprise before he closed off again, returning to his cold, unreadable mask.

“…and now,” the priest’s voice rose, snapping me out of my reverie, “do you, Ava, take Grayson as your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice steady, even though my heart raced. “I do.”

The priest turned to Grayson, his expression as impassive as ever. “And do you, Grayson, take Ava as your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?”

Grayson paused, his gaze unwavering. For a fleeting second, I thought he might hesitate. But he inclined his head slightly, his words curt but firm. “I do.”

The priest smiled and continued, “Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I glanced at Grayson, expecting him to take the lead, but he just stood there, his expression as blank as stone. A flicker of irritation sparked within me, and I thought, Screw it.

Without waiting, I closed the distance, rising on my toes and leaning in, pressing my lips to his. I heard Isabella cheer behind me, her voice full of delight and mischief.

But then, something happened.

As our lips met, an electric surge coursed through me—intense, like a jolt, but not painful, more like an awakening. For a brief moment, I thought I sensed something deeper beneath Grayson’s cold exterior—unexpected emotions, feelings that seemed to pulse and blend with my own. It was strange and exhilarating, and I leaned further into the kiss, hoping to maintain that connection for just a second longer.

Then, just as I thought he wouldn’t respond, he kissed me back. The kiss transformed, becoming charged and powerful, pulling me deeper into the moment. His hands came up to my waist, steadying me as his lips moved against mine, intensifying the spark. It was overwhelming yet grounding, like we were bound together in a way words couldn’t capture.

The priest cleared his throat, bringing us back to reality. With a slight shiver, I pulled back, realizing the depth of what had just happened as he announced, “I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Grayson Blackwood.”

I was Ava Blackwood.