Chapter 8 This way please

June 3rd arrived beneath a low, overcast sky.

Inside her Manhattan apartment, Ciel sat silently in front of the vanity mirror while Holly adjusted the thin layer of tulle over her dark hair. The room was quiet. No bridal party filled the apartment with laughter. No photographers crowded the windows. No reporters waited downstairs.

This wedding carried no romance.

Only escape.

Ciel wore a minimalist silk gown tailored close to her figure. No excessive lace. No glittering diamonds. No dramatic train trailing behind her. Everything about the dress was restrained, elegant, and coldly practical.

Outside the apartment building, the deep rumble of engines vibrated through the floorboards.

A convoy of black armored Maybachs had arrived.

The apartment buzzer rang.

Holly hurried to open the door.

Julian Chavez stepped inside wearing a dark charcoal suit. A white boutonnière rested neatly against his lapel, marking him as the representative of the groom's side.

He offered Ciel a polite smile.

"Since Harry is unavailable," Julian said smoothly, "I volunteered to escort you on Deacon's behalf."

Ciel felt genuine relief for the first time that morning.

Julian was calm, respectful, and, most importantly, not Harry.

She stood, gathered the skirt of her gown, and walked out of the apartment without hesitation.

The Maybach door shut softly behind her.

As the convoy moved through Manhattan traffic, Ciel sat motionless in the leather back seat. Her hands rested quietly in her lap. She never checked her phone. Never asked about the main estate. Never mentioned Harry once.

Julian watched her through the rearview mirror.

The complete indifference on her face unsettled him far more than anger would have.

An hour later, the city disappeared behind them.

The convoy turned onto a private road lined with towering redwoods. Thick fog drifted low through the forest, wrapping around the black vehicles as they climbed deeper into the property.

Then the estate appeared.

Massive security walls rose between the trees, lined with cameras, motion sensors, and armed patrol points. The structure itself looked less like a residence and more like a military fortress built from steel, glass, and stone.

The lead Maybach stopped before a circular fountain.

Heavy front doors opened.

A tall man descended the steps with the rigid posture of a soldier. His military buzz cut and black tactical clothing made him look more like private security than household staff.

"Miss Miller," he said in a deep voice. "I'm Flint Novak. General Deacon Chavez's chief aide and head of security."

His sharp eyes examined her carefully.

Ciel met his gaze without discomfort.

Flint clearly expected another fragile socialite.

Instead, he found someone calm enough to stand before him without flinching.

He turned and led her inside.

The estate interior was cold and silent. Marble floors reflected the pale light overhead. No flowers decorated the halls. No wedding atmosphere existed anywhere inside the building.

Everything smelled faintly of antiseptic and cedarwood.

"I'll have your luggage placed in the East Wing guest suites," Flint said while walking down the central corridor. "That section operates independently from the medical floor."

Ciel stopped immediately.

"No."

Flint turned.

"My luggage goes to the master bedroom."

A slight frown appeared between his brows.

"The master suite is currently functioning as a medical facility. The General requires continuous monitoring."

Ciel looked directly at him.

"I married Deacon Chavez," she said evenly. "Where my husband sleeps is where I sleep."

For several seconds, Flint said nothing.

Then the resistance in his expression eased slightly.

"Understood."

He led her deeper into the estate until they reached a set of reinforced acoustic doors at the heart of the mansion.

Flint pushed them open.

The faint sound of medical equipment filled the room.

Monitors blinked softly beside a massive king-sized bed positioned beneath tall windows.

And lying motionless at the center of it all-

was Deacon Chavez.

Ciel stepped into the room slowly.

The doors closed heavily behind her.

For the first time since her rebirth, she was finally alone with the man she had chosen over Harry Chavez.