1
Isabella
People always whispered that your wedding day would be the singular happiest day of your existence, a blissful, fairy-tale crescendo of love and white lace. No one, however, ever thought to warn you that it would also be a chaotic, high-stress, absolute circus of logistics.
“Absolutely not. I am putting my foot down.”
I stared at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, my brow furrowed as I assessed the vision I made in the bridal suite.
“What?” I asked, turning to face the room. “What is the problem now?”
Viv was standing by the vanity, arms folded firmly over her chest, her expression one of grim determination. She gestured toward the floor. “Those shoes. Absolutely not.”
I looked down at the ivory, silk-wrapped heels resting delicately on the plush carpet. “What is wrong with them? They match the embroidery on the gown perfectly.”
“They’re four inches, Isabella. They’re basically stilts.”
“Yes? They’re wedding shoes. They’re supposed to have height.”
“You’ll break your ankle,” Viv argued. “Or your neck. Or you’ll trip on the aisle runner and turn the entire ceremony into a slapstick comedy.”
“I’ve worn higher heels to court cases that lasted twelve hours,” I retorted, rolling my eyes.
Savannah snorted from the corner of the suite, where she was adjusting a stray rose in the floral display. “She’s not wrong, Viv. I’ve seen her run through a hotel lobby in six-inch stilettos after a lead.”
Traitors. Both of them. I sighed, a dramatic, long-suffering sound, and collapsed into the velvet chair near the window. “I went to law school, for God’s sake. I have survived the most grueling constitutional law curriculum in the country.”
Viv blinked, momentarily taken aback. “…Congratulations? Was that supposed to be a leverage point?”
“I have prosecuted violent, organized crime syndicates,” I continued, counting them off on my fingers. “I have stood in front of federal judges who wanted to eat me alive for lunch. I helped dismantle an international human trafficking network.”
Viv nodded, leaning against the vanity. “You did. You were brilliant. I’m not disputing your credentials.”
I pointed a manicured finger toward the offending shoes. “And yet, these are the heels you decide are the hill you want to die on?”
“Exactly,” Viv said with a grin. “Because you’re not dealing with a federal judge today. You’re dealing with Hayes. And I am fairly certain he would commit a felony to hunt down whoever designed those shoes if you tripped in them.”
A slow, genuine smile tugged at the corners of my lips. That… was probably true. The man had a protective streak that bordered on the obsessive.
⸻
The suite buzzed with a frantic, quiet electricity. Professional stylists moved around us in a blur of hairspray and pins, and an assistant was busy steaming the last of the tulle from my skirt in the background. My bouquet rested on the vanity, a heavy, fragrant cluster of white peonies and eucalyptus, sitting beside my grandmother’s vintage pearl earrings. Everything in the room smelled faintly of expensive roses and chilled champagne.
It should have felt like a suffocating, overwhelming burden. Instead, it felt strangely, profoundly peaceful. I looked down at the diamond engagement ring on my left hand—the ring Hayes had slipped onto my finger months ago, a symbol of a promise I hadn't realized I was making at the time. Eight months. Eight months ago, I had been screaming at Hayes in the middle of Kai Rhodes’s penthouse, arguing over federal warrants and the ethics of a high-risk operation. Now, in less than an hour, I was about to become his wife.
Savannah appeared beside me in the mirror, her reflection soft and supportive. “Nervous?”
I thought about it, searching for the flutter of anxiety I expected to feel. “No.”
She smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Really? Not even a little bit?”
“I’m terrified,” I confessed, the truth tumbling out of me.
She let out a soft, delighted laugh. “There she is. I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“But…” I looked back at my reflection, seeing the woman who had spent years hiding behind suits and legal arguments. “I’m not terrified of marrying him. I’m not terrified of the future. It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone this much. It’s a frightening amount of power to give another human being.”
The words hung quietly between us, stripped of all the pretenses I usually carried. Viv walked over, setting aside her hairbrush to squeeze my shoulder. “That, Isabella, is exactly how you know you’re marrying the right man.”
⸻
Across town, Hayes was almost certainly pretending he wasn't currently having a minor crisis, which meant he was almost certainly driving his groomsmen insane. I smiled to myself, imagining the scene. He had spent his entire career planning for every possible threat, calculating risk, and neutralizing danger. Today, there were no enemies to eliminate. No operation to lead. No suspect to catch. Just a tuxedo, a wedding ring, and me. Somehow, I suspected that the lack of control was making him more anxious than any tactical mission he’d ever led.
⸻
A soft, rhythmic knock sounded at the door. The wedding coordinator stepped inside, checking her watch with a warm, professional smile. “Everything is in place. They’re almost ready for the processional.”
My heartbeat immediately doubled, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This was it. The point of no return. Viv stepped forward, her hands steady as she carefully adjusted the veil resting over my hair. Savannah picked up my bouquet, checking the arrangement one last time before placing it gently into my trembling hands.
Neither of them spoke for a moment, letting the weight of the moment settle over us. Finally, Savannah smiled, her eyes slightly misty. “You look absolutely beautiful, Isabella. Hayes is going to lose his mind.”
I swallowed against the sudden, sharp lump in my throat. “Do you think he’ll cry? Even just a little?”
Viv laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. “Hayes? The man is made of tempered steel and pure stubbornness. He’d rather lose a fistfight with a professional heavyweight than cry in front of three hundred guests.”
“I don’t know,” Savannah grinned, leaning against the vanity. “I’ve seen the way he looks at her. When he’s not looking at anyone else, he’s… different.”
My cheeks warmed. “He’ll cry,” I decided. “I can feel it.”
Viv nodded, conceding the point. “Absolutely. If he doesn’t, I’m going to personally file a grievance.”
I laughed, the sound breaking the tension. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The coordinator reappeared in the doorway, nodding. “It’s time.”
The ambient noise of the room seemed to vanish, replaced by the thrum of my own pulse. I took one slow, deliberate breath, steadying my hands, and then another. My father stepped into the room, looking distinguished and emotional, offering me his arm.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he asked.
I looked toward the closed chapel doors, imagining the man waiting on the other side. My partner. My protector. My equal. A genuine, radiant smile spread across my face, erasing every doubt, every shadow, and every fear I’d ever had.
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life,” I said.
The music began to swell, a classic, sweeping melody that signaled the start of forever. And somewhere beyond those doors, Hayes Calloway was waiting for his bride.
