Chapter 10 - The Real Wedding

The wedding was held in a sprawling botanical garden, vibrant with life and color. There were no press, no business associates we were forced to invite, and absolutely no black-tie dress codes.

It was an intimate gathering of fifty people—our closest friends and the family that actually mattered.

I stood in front of a mirror in the bridal suite, wearing a dress that I loved, feeling completely at peace. The door opened, and my mother walked in. She was wearing a stunning, elegant silver gown that we had picked out together. No one was going to ask her if it was "vintage" today. She looked like a queen.

“Oh, Clara,” she whispered, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “You look like an angel.”

My dad stepped in behind her, wearing a brand-new, perfectly tailored suit that he wore with immense pride. He didn't look uncomfortable; he looked handsome and tall. He offered me his arm.

“Ready, kiddo?” he asked, his eyes shining.

“More than ready, Dad.”

As we walked down the aisle to the sound of a soft acoustic guitar, I looked at the faces of the people gathered. They were smiling, crying, genuinely happy for us. And at the end of the aisle stood Julian.

He was looking at me like I was the only person in the universe.

When my dad and I reached the altar, my dad turned to Julian. He didn't just hand me over. He pulled Julian into a tight embrace, clapping him on the back.

“Take care of her, Julian,” my dad said.

“With my life, sir,” Julian replied, shaking his hand firmly.

There was no tension. No judgment. No fear of a scene.

The ceremony was beautiful, filled with laughter and heartfelt vows. When Julian kissed me as my husband for the first time, the garden erupted in cheers.

Later that evening, at the reception, I stood near the edge of the dance floor, watching my parents dance together. They were laughing, my dad spinning my mom around, completely carefree.

Julian came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. “They look happy.”

“They are,” I said, leaning back into his solid, comforting embrace. “We all are.”

I thought back, briefly, to that disastrous day at the Sterling estate. I had thought my life was falling apart when my parents were shoved into that pool. But in reality, the toxic illusion had been shattered, making way for the truth.

Olivia Sterling had called us a miserable, poor family.

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She had been wrong about the miserable part. And as I looked at the incredible man holding me and the joyous parents dancing under the stars, I knew she had been wrong about the poor part, too.

I was the richest woman in the world.