Chapter 12
The reception was in full swing when my phone buzzed with a notification from a social media account I rarely checked.
A post from Serena — or rather, Sandra Wilson — had tagged me directly.
Against all logic, I opened it.
A long, rambling public statement: accusations of conspiracy, claims that Dominic had "paid off" journalists, allegations that I'd stolen Nathan away from her — the delusion was almost impressive in its scope.
But buried in the unhinged rant was one line that made my blood freeze:
*"If I can't have the life I was promised, no one will. I know where you'll be tonight. Enjoy your last celebration."*
I looked up from my phone, scanning the garden reception with new eyes.
Everything seemed normal — guests laughing, champagne flowing, the band playing our first dance song.
But years of being married to caution had sharpened my instincts.
"Dominic." I gripped his sleeve.
He read my expression instantly, taking my phone and scanning the post in three seconds flat.
His face didn't change — to outside observers, he still looked like a groom enjoying his reception. But I felt his entire body coil tight.
"Ethan." He caught his head of security's eye across the crowd, communicating something wordless. Ethan nodded once and disappeared.
"Come with me." Dominic guided me toward the main building, his hand firm on my back.
"What about the guests—"
"They'll be fine. My team is on it." His voice was steel wrapped in silk. "You're my only priority right now."
We'd barely made it inside when Ethan's voice crackled through Dominic's earpiece:
"Sir, we've got her. East perimeter. She had a... she had a knife."
My breath caught.
Dominic pulled me against his chest, his heart hammering beneath his composed exterior.
"She's contained?" he asked.
"Contained and being held for police."
Dominic exhaled slowly, his arms tightening around me.
"It's over," he murmured into my hair. "She can't touch you."
But I pulled back, looking up at him with clear eyes.
"I'm not afraid," I said. And I meant it.
Not because the threat wasn't real. But because for the first time in my life, I had someone standing between me and the world who would never, ever step aside.
"I know you're not afraid." He cupped my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. "That's what terrifies ME."
I kissed him softly. "Come on. We have a first dance to finish."
...
We returned to the reception as if nothing had happened. The band struck up our song — a classic, timeless, chosen by Dominic because "it was playing in the café the first time I saw you smile."
As we swayed together under string lights, surrounded by warmth and laughter, he whispered:
"Worth the wait?"
I looked up at this man — this impossibly patient, impossibly devoted man who had loved me from afar for five years and never once demanded reciprocation.
"Ask me again in fifty years," I said.
His smile could have lit the entire coastline.
"Deal."
The police report later confirmed that Serena — Sandra — had planned to cause a scene at the reception. The knife was found on her person along with a burner phone containing messages to tabloid reporters, promising them "exclusive footage of the drama."
She was charged with trespassing, carrying a concealed weapon, and making criminal threats.
Her bail was denied given her flight risk profile.
And just like that, the last ghost of my old life was locked behind bars.
A post from Serena — or rather, Sandra Wilson — had tagged me directly.
Against all logic, I opened it.
A long, rambling public statement: accusations of conspiracy, claims that Dominic had "paid off" journalists, allegations that I'd stolen Nathan away from her — the delusion was almost impressive in its scope.
But buried in the unhinged rant was one line that made my blood freeze:
*"If I can't have the life I was promised, no one will. I know where you'll be tonight. Enjoy your last celebration."*
I looked up from my phone, scanning the garden reception with new eyes.
Everything seemed normal — guests laughing, champagne flowing, the band playing our first dance song.
But years of being married to caution had sharpened my instincts.
"Dominic." I gripped his sleeve.
He read my expression instantly, taking my phone and scanning the post in three seconds flat.
His face didn't change — to outside observers, he still looked like a groom enjoying his reception. But I felt his entire body coil tight.
"Ethan." He caught his head of security's eye across the crowd, communicating something wordless. Ethan nodded once and disappeared.
"Come with me." Dominic guided me toward the main building, his hand firm on my back.
"What about the guests—"
"They'll be fine. My team is on it." His voice was steel wrapped in silk. "You're my only priority right now."
We'd barely made it inside when Ethan's voice crackled through Dominic's earpiece:
"Sir, we've got her. East perimeter. She had a... she had a knife."
My breath caught.
Dominic pulled me against his chest, his heart hammering beneath his composed exterior.
"She's contained?" he asked.
"Contained and being held for police."
Dominic exhaled slowly, his arms tightening around me.
"It's over," he murmured into my hair. "She can't touch you."
But I pulled back, looking up at him with clear eyes.
"I'm not afraid," I said. And I meant it.
Not because the threat wasn't real. But because for the first time in my life, I had someone standing between me and the world who would never, ever step aside.
"I know you're not afraid." He cupped my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. "That's what terrifies ME."
I kissed him softly. "Come on. We have a first dance to finish."
...
We returned to the reception as if nothing had happened. The band struck up our song — a classic, timeless, chosen by Dominic because "it was playing in the café the first time I saw you smile."
As we swayed together under string lights, surrounded by warmth and laughter, he whispered:
"Worth the wait?"
I looked up at this man — this impossibly patient, impossibly devoted man who had loved me from afar for five years and never once demanded reciprocation.
"Ask me again in fifty years," I said.
His smile could have lit the entire coastline.
"Deal."
The police report later confirmed that Serena — Sandra — had planned to cause a scene at the reception. The knife was found on her person along with a burner phone containing messages to tabloid reporters, promising them "exclusive footage of the drama."
She was charged with trespassing, carrying a concealed weapon, and making criminal threats.
Her bail was denied given her flight risk profile.
And just like that, the last ghost of my old life was locked behind bars.