Chapter 8 Missing Groom

The morning of the wedding felt awkwardly different for Chloe. She stood before the mirror, gloomy. There would be no proud father to walk her down the aisle. This was a transaction, a strategic move in a silent war.

The silk of her wedding dress was supposed to feel like a cloud. To Chloe, it felt like a jacket lined with broken promises. She was sitting on the edge of a velvet settee in the small, overheated bridal suite, her hands clasped so tightly.

10:05 AM. The ceremony was five minutes late. Rhys, her contracted fiancé, was missing.

Chloe didn’t just feel the pressure of the moment; she felt the crushing weight of her entire family’s financial future settling on her shoulders. This marriage constantly reminds her that; it was a merger, a contract written in black and white to save her family's legacy.

The only real act of rebellion, the only escape route she’d managed to forge, was her own secret, counter-contract.

She glanced at the corner of the room where one of the security guard and Rhys' friend, David, stood. David is a pillar of quiet competence, built of muscle and reserve, his eyes constantly tracking the single exit. His presence was the only thing stopping her from tearing the heirloom veil off her head and running.

David knew the truth: she wasn't marrying Rhys for love or even stability; she was marrying him for the sake of the farce. Her real marriage, the one that guaranteed her legal independence and safety, was the one she’d secretly signed with Rhys.

A contract marriage based on practical clauses and absolute silence. A blank legal shield.

"It’s fine, darling. Traffic on the bridge," her uncle Julian cuts into her thoughts. He had insisted earlier, but now he was gone, having retreated to "manage" his top tier guests, which Chloe knew meant pouring more premium champagne. The silence in the bridal suite was punctuated only by the distant, nervous tuning of the string quartet and the furious tick of the clock.

10:10 PM. Beverly, the wedding coordinator, burst in, her face a mask of strained professionalism. "Chloe, dear, we're going to push the start. A small, unavoidable complication."

Chloe stared, refusing to help Beverly smooth over the lie. "He's late, Beverly. For his own wedding."

Beverly offered a weak, meaningless smile. "He's a busy man, Chloe. He is one of the best security personnel around. It's to be expected. He just called. He's some minutes away."

Chloe felt a cold wave of fury wash over the panic. To be late was one thing. To treat this, the public initiation of their life together, with such callous disregard, was a declaration of exactly how low her standing was in his priority list. He hadn't even called her. He’d called the coordinator.

She stood up, needing to move, needing to shake off the oppressive stillness. The dress felt heavy, the lace scratchy against her skin.

"Please don't fret, Miss," David said, his voice a low, steady rumble that seemed to absorb the frantic energy of the room. He didn’t look at her; he was checking the lock on the door. "Some minutes late is nothing. We've weathered worse waits."

He wasn't talking about traffic. He was talking about the countless hours he’d spent waiting outside conference rooms and foreign embassies with Rhys. He was the one person who saw the mechanics of Rhys's life, the gears grinding behind the polished facade. He was the only one who understands Chloe not as a bride, but as a principal in a bad deal.

"If I walk out of here," Chloe whispered, her voice tight, "it ends my family. Everything."

"Then we wait," David replied simply. "And you do what you have to do." His pragmatic tone was exactly what she needed. The show must go on.

Rhys had been gone for hours, a ghost in the pre-dawn darkness. Chloe was restless. making "final arrangements." The phrase, like everything else he said now, was a locked box. She knew it contained danger, strategy, and the immense, unspoken resources of a man who was far more than he seemed.

A soft, insistent chime from the intercom made her jump. It was Mark, one of the men from Rhys’s team.

“Ms. Sterling, we are ready for you."

“We are ready.” Not “the car is here”. The distinction was subtle but significant. This wasn't a simple journey; it was a military deployment.

Taking a steadying breath, she squared her shoulders, a gesture she had learned from her father and walked out of her bedroom.

Mark and David were waiting in the living room. They were cut from the same cloth as Rhys: lean, powerful, with eyes that constantly scanned their environment, missing nothing. They offered no congratulatory smiles, only a curt, respectful nod that felt more genuine than any false cheer.

"The route is secured," Mark stated. "We'll take the private elevator to Sub-level B. Mr. Rhys will meet us at the location."

The descent was silent, the elevator humming its quiet descent into the building. The private garage was eerily empty, a concrete cavern stripped of its usual fleet of luxury cars. A single, black SUV with windows tinted to near-opacity sat waiting. David did a final, sweeping scan of the area, his hand resting near his waist, before opening the rear door for her.

The drive was a study in controlled precision. The rain-slicked streets were unnaturally clear. Chloe watched as other identical black SUVs appeared at intersections, momentarily blocking side streets to allow their vehicle an unimpeded passage. It was a synchronized ballet of security, a display of power that was both terrifying and reassuring. Rhys’s invisible army was clearing a path for the bride.

They didn't approach the grand, columned entrance of the county courthouse. Instead, they slipped into a secluded underground garage, accessing it with a code that Rhys had undoubtedly provided. Another team of serious-faced individuals was waiting. One held a large black umbrella, shielding her from the drizzle as she walked the ten feet from the car to a nondescript steel door. It opened to reveal a private elevator.

Then the doors slid open, And there he was.

The transition from the exquisite, quiet bridal suite to the enormous, light-filled ballroom was like falling off a cliff. The massive doors swung open, and Chloe was instantly blinded by the wash of professional lighting and the sudden, overwhelming sound of hundreds of people rising to their feet.