Chapter 4 Let the countdown begin

Chapter Four

The Countdown Begins

Allison stared at the rack of designer wedding gowns lined up in the private suite of an upscale bridal boutique-none of which felt like hers.

White satin. Ivory silk. Lace that looked like it belonged in a museum.

A team of stylists buzzed around her, pinning, adjusting, offering compliments she didn't ask for.

"Try the Vera next," one chirped. "It has the silhouette for a society wedding."

Another held up a pair of heels with enough sparkle to blind someone.

Allison didn't move.

She felt like a mannequin being dressed for someone else's life. Someone who had grown up in penthouses, not apartments with flickering lights and secondhand furniture.

She finally spoke, her voice low but firm. "Can I have five minutes? Alone?"

The room stilled. The head stylist blinked, then nodded. "Of course."

They left, whispering behind the closed door.

Allison stepped off the platform and sat on the velvet bench, wedding dress trailing like a defeated flag around her.

One week.

Later That Day

The Wilson estate transformed into a war zone of florists, planners, decorators, and camera crews. Luxury vehicles came and went. Fabric samples littered the halls. Staff whispered. Designers panicked over custom embroidery that "must scream understated wealth."

Allison was swept from one room to the next: table layouts, cake tastings, press briefings. Every decision was urgent. Every detail scrutinized.

Even her hair had a committee.

She smiled, nodded, and approved things she didn't understand-because everyone seemed to expect her to. And Kyle?

Kyle was nowhere.

Kyle's POV

Kyle sat in the back of a black SUV outside his family's Midtown tower, phone pressed to his ear, voice clipped. "Yes, I know it's fast. I don't need reminding."

He hung up before his father could say more.

He hated this part-the chaos, the scrutiny. The fact that every decision about Allison had to be cleared through five people before he could even speak to her directly. That wasn't how he wanted this to go.

He had accelerated the timeline for control. Stability.

But now, for the first time, he wondered if he'd made it worse for her.

She was adapting faster than he expected. But he saw it, in her eyes last night on the terrace: she felt trapped. Like she was suffocating.

And the last thing he ever intended was to make her feel like she didn't have a choice.

He tapped his phone again. This time, it wasn't business.

To Allison: "I know this isn't what you imagined. If you need space, say the word."

He didn't expect a reply. But sending it mattered.

Maybe more than he cared to admit.

That Evening

The apartment was quiet when Allison slipped away from the mayhem to FaceTime her mother. Rose answered in her robe, tea in hand.

"Honey, you look like you've been in a blender."

"I feel like it," Allison said, curling up in a chair with a blanket around her shoulders.

"Do you like the dress?"

"I don't even know anymore. There are twelve."

Rose smiled gently. "Then pick the one that makes you feel like yourself."

"I'm not sure I remember who that is."

Silence hung for a beat.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake?" Allison asked quietly.

"I think," Rose said, "that a mistake is marrying someone who doesn't respect you. And from what I've seen, Kyle's learning how to."

Allison blinked. "You like him?"

"I don't know him," Rose replied. "But I trust you. And I see the way you look when you talk about him-even when you're pretending you don't care."

Allison bit her lip. "What if it's just... survival?"

"Then survive the way you always do," Rose said. "But don't forget to live, too."

The Night Before

Rehearsal Dinner at the Wilson Penthouse

The penthouse was dressed in white roses, silver candlesticks, and an orchestra soft enough to sound expensive but not distracting. Everything gleamed. Everything whispered perfect.

Allison stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows in a sleek, off-white dress. Her makeup was flawless, hair swept back. She looked like she belonged-but she felt like she was performing every breath.

Guests flowed around her: Kyle's extended family, old business partners, journalists pretending not to take notes.

"Kyle's lucky," someone murmured behind a glass of champagne.

Allison wasn't sure if it was admiration or warning.

Kyle appeared beside her right on cue. He looked sharp in black. Polished. Distant.

"You okay?" he asked under his breath.

She nodded automatically. "Just tired."

"I meant with all of this." He gestured vaguely toward the party. "They're a lot."

She gave a small, dry laugh. "I've met warmer sharks."

A muscle in his jaw twitched like he was fighting a smile. "They mean well. Most of the time."

"They don't know me."

"They don't have to," he said, tone shifting. "They just have to respect you."

She looked up at him. "And do they?"

Kyle didn't answer. But the way he stayed close-angled toward her, subtly shielding her from another intrusive guest-said more than his silence.

Across the room, Kyle's mother, elegant and ice-edged, approached.

"Allison," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You've done well for yourself."

"I think we've done well for each other," Allison replied evenly.

His mother's brows lifted slightly. "We'll see."

With that, she drifted away, already moving on to her next judgment.

Allison exhaled slowly. "She's a lot."

"She's always been a test," Kyle muttered. "You passed."

Later, at the long table surrounded by wine glasses and polite applause, Kyle stood to give a short toast.

"To partnership," he said. "And the power of a good deal."

Laughter followed-but Allison caught the way his eyes lingered on her.

Not cold. Not businesslike.

Something else. Something nearly human.

When the night ended, he walked her to the elevator, hands in his pockets, unusually quiet.

"This is the last night before everything changes," he said.

She nodded. "Tomorrow we become a headline."

"Not just a headline," he said. "A family."

The word caught her off guard.

Before she could respond, the elevator opened.

He didn't kiss her. Didn't even touch her.

But as the doors closed between them, they held a gaze at each other.....