Chapter 5 - The Wedding and the Trap
The day of our wedding was cold, crisp, and overcast.
We didn't hold a massive spectacle at a cathedral. Instead, we held a quiet ceremony in the grand conservatory of my Lake Forest estate, surrounded by glass windows overlooking the snow-covered pine trees.
Only a handful of people were present: the judge, Vance, the household staff, and Oliver, who stood beside me wearing a tiny, tailored black tuxedo.
Emma walked down the short aisle wrapped in a stunning, simple white silk gown. She carried no bouquet, only her quiet dignity. When she reached me, I looked into her hazel eyes and saw no fear—only an unbreakable determination.
"Do you, Preston Hale, take Emma Carter to be your lawful wedded wife?" the judge asked.
"I do," I said firmly, placing a platinum band onto her finger.
"And do you, Emma Carter, take Preston Hale to be your lawful wedded husband?"
"I do," Emma said softly, her voice steady and clear.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
As I leaned in to kiss my new wife, a soft, gentle brush of lips that felt surprisingly intense, Oliver stepped forward and took both of our hands.
"Does this mean Emma stays forever?" Oliver asked, looking up at us.
Emma immediately knelt down, ignoring the delicate silk of her dress touching the cold marble, and wrapped her arms around Oliver. "Yes, sweet boy. Forever."
Suddenly, Vance walked into the conservatory, his face pale and grim. He caught my eye and gave a subtle nod toward the hallway.
"Excuse me for a moment," I whispered to Emma, kissing the top of her head before following Vance into my private study.
"What is it?" I asked, locking the door behind us.
"Marcus took the bait," Vance reported in a low tone. "After the confrontation at dinner last week, he thought he was trapped. An hour ago, his men breached the digital security wall at Dock 14 to wipe the physical server backups. My tech team let them through far enough to trace the command origin."
"Where is he?"
"He’s not at his house," Vance said. "He’s heading toward the estate right now with a team of hired mercenaries. He knows you have the physical paper copies of Serena's files stored in the basement safe. He’s going to burn this house down, Preston. He wants to destroy the evidence and eliminate you, Emma, and Oliver in one clean stroke."
A dark, cold smile spread across my face. Marcus was desperate. Desperate men made fatal mistakes.
"How long do we have?" I asked.
"Fifteen minutes before his convoy hits the outer gates."
"Good," I said, pulling a drawer open and taking out two dark, custom handguns. "Evacuate the household staff through the underground tunnel to the guardhouse. Keep Oliver with Vance’s secondary unit in the panic room."
"What about Emma?" Vance asked.
Before I could answer, the door of the study opened, and Emma walked in. She had already pulled off her bridal veil, her hair falling softly over her shoulders. In her eyes was a fierce, unwavering glare.
"I'm staying with you," she said, shutting the door behind her.
"Emma, no," I insisted, walking up to her. "Marcus is bringing armed men. It's too dangerous."
"I ran away two years ago when Serena died, Preston," Emma said, stepping right up to my chest, her hand resting against my lapel. "I hid in the shadows for two years because I was afraid. I am not running anymore. She was my sister. This is my fight too."
I looked down at her, seeing the absolute conviction in her posture. She was no longer just the maid who had whispered a song to my son. She was my wife. She was my partner.
I handed her one of the smaller, concealed sidearms from my desk. "Do you know how to use this?"
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"I spent my childhood in southern Illinois, Preston," she said, checking the safety with practiced ease. "I know how to shoot."
"Then let's finish this," I said.
