Chapter 8: Till Death Do Us Part
The sight of Ethan in a wheelchair, with Ava hovering beside him, momentarily freezes me. Lucas feels me tense and follows my gaze. His expression hardens, but he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“I invited them,” he confesses in a low voice as we begin our recessional walk down the aisle. “Are you angry?”
I should be. Having my ex and his once–and–future girlfriend at my wedding should feel like an invasion. Instead, I feel a strange sense of completion, as if a circle has
closed.
“No,” I reply honestly. “But I am curious.”
“I’ll explain later,” he promises as we pass by them. Ethan’s eyes follow me with a desperate intensity that once would have affected me. Now I barely notice, too absorbed in the feeling of Lucas’s hand in mine, in the euphoria of being his wife.
The reception is a lavish affair held in the gardens of Lucas’s family estate. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ancient oak trees, and white roses cascade from every
surface. It’s like a fairytale–one I had stopped believing in after Ethan.
After our first dance, Lucas excuses himself briefly to speak with his grandfather.
I’m immediately surrounded by well–wishers, but my attention is caught by Ethan,
who has maneuvered his wheelchair to the edge of the dance floor. Ava is nowhere
to be seen.
Making a quick decision, I cross to him, smoothing my gown as I approach. “Ethan,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “Thank you for coming.”
His eyes are bloodshot, his hands trembling slightly on the armrests of his
wheelchair. “Like I had a choice,” he mutters. “Your husband made it clear that
missing this event wasn’t an option.”
I frown, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Ask him,” Ethan says bitterly. “He seems to enjoy explaining his mind games.” Before I can respond, a commotion erupts from a nearby table. Ava stands there, a half–empty champagne flute in her hand, her expression wild.
“This is such bullsh*t,” she slurs loudly enough for nearby guests to turn. “He
never
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loved you, you know. You were just a stand–in for me. A f**king placeholder.” Security guards materialize almost instantly, moving toward her, but Ethan is quicker. He wheels himself directly into her path, grabbing her wrist.
“Sit down,” he hisses. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“I’m making a fool of myself?” Ava laughs, a high, brittle sound. “That’s rich coming from you, Ethan. Still pining after her when she’s married to a man who could buy and sell you a thousand times over.”
With a vicious movement, Ethan yanks her down, causing her to lose her balance. As she stumbles, her head catches the corner of the table. Blood immediately wells
from the wound, a stark crimson against her pale skin.
The sight transports me instantly back to that welcome party, when Ethan pushed me aside to chase after Ava. The parallel is striking–except this time, it’s Ava he’s
shoving aside, his attention fixed solely on me.
“Sophie,” he calls desperately, trying to maneuver his wheelchair toward me. “Please, just talk to me for five minutes. Alone.”
Security converges on him, one guard expertly clamping a hand over his mouth to silence his shouts. Lucas appears at my side, his arm sliding protectively around my waist.
“I believe our guests are ready for the cutting of the cake,” he says smoothly, guiding me away as the orchestra strikes up a lively tune, effectively drowning out the disturbance.
As we move through the crowd, receiving congratulations and well–wishes, I can’t help but ask, “Did you know that would happen?”
Lucas’s expression is neutral. “I suspected something might. Ethan is too narcissistic to let you go without a scene.”
“Is that why you invited them? To humiliate him?”
He considers the question seriously. “Partly,” he admits. “I wanted him to see what he lost–what I gained. But mostly, I wanted you to see him for what he is. Weak. Desperate. Unworthy of you.”
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The brutal honesty is unexpected but refreshing. Ethan would have denied any such motive, would have constructed an elaborate lie. Lucas simply owns his actions, unapologetic and straightforward.
“You’re a very complicated man, Lucas Bennett,” I say, studying his face.
His smile is slow and genuine. “And you, Sophie Bennett, are the only person who might actually understand those complications.”
The moment is broken by the announcement of the cake cutting. As we perform the traditional ritual, feeding each other bites of the elaborate confection, I notice security quietly escorting Ethan and Ava out. Ava’s forehead is bandaged, her expression dazed. Ethan doesn’t spare her a glance, his eyes fixed on me with a desperate intensity that makes me uncomfortable even from across the garden. After the cake, after the speeches and the toasts, after I’ve danced with my father and Jake and what feels like a hundred of Lucas’s relatives, my new husband finally claims me again.
“Mrs. Bennett,” he murmurs in my ear as we sway to a slow song. “Are you ready
to leave this circus behind?”
The warmth of his breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine. “More
than ready.”
His eyes darken with promise. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about getting you out of that dress since the moment I saw you in it.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re in the back of his Bentley, headed for the private airstrip where his family’s jet awaits. Our honeymoon destination is still a secret— Lucas insists on surprising me.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask as we settle into the luxurious
leather seats.
He grins, taking my hand. “Eventually.”
As the car pulls away from the reception, I notice another vehicle following us. “Is that security?”
Lucas nods. “Just a precaution. My family doesn’t take chances.”
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The seriousness in his tone reminds me of our interrupted conversation. “Lucas, about Ethan and Ava… why did you really invite them?”
He’s quiet for a moment, his thumb idly stroking the inside of my wrist. “I believe in closure,” he finally says. “And I thought seeing him there–seeing him pathetic and desperate while you were radiant and happy–would give you that.”
“And what about Ethan? What was in it for him?”
Lucas’s smile turns cold. “He got to keep breathing.”
The implication sends a chill through me. “Lucas-”
“I’m not a saint, Sophie,” he says quietly. “I never pretended to be. When I found out how he treated you, the things he said to you… I wanted to destroy him. Not just hurt him–destroy him completely.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” His hand cups my cheek gently. “Because that would have hurt you. And I never want to hurt you.”
The dichotomy is jarring–the tenderness in his touch contrasted with the
ruthlessness in his words. Yet somehow, it feels right. This man with his
complexities and contradictions has become my safe harbor in a way Ethan, with all his false perfection, never was.
“Thank you,” I say simply.
His eyebrows lift. “For not destroying your ex–boyfriend? That’s a pretty low bar, Sophie.”
I laugh, some of the tension dissipating. “No, for being honest about it. For not pretending to be something you’re not.”
He kisses me then, deep and thorough, until I’m breathless and clinging to him. “Speaking of honesty,” he murmurs against my lips, “I should tell you that our honeymoon suite is soundproofed. You can be as loud as you want.”
Heat floods my body at his words. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart,” he says, his hand sliding up my thigh, bunching the silk of my dress. “I plan to hear exactly how loud you can get.”
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By the time we reach the airstrip, we’re both disheveled and flushed, having pushed the limits of what’s possible in the backseat of even a very spacious Bentley. Lucas helps me onto the jet, his hand possessive on the small of my back. The interior is a marvel of luxury–all cream leather and gleaming wood. A bottle of champagne chills in a silver bucket, and rose petals are scattered across what is obviously a very large, very comfortable bed at the rear of the cabin.
“A little cliché,” Lucas admits, following my gaze to the rose petals. “But some
traditions exist for a reason.”
“I like traditions,” I tell him, turning in his arms. “Especially the one where the groom carries his bride over the threshold.”
His grin is wolfish as he sweeps me up, carrying me effortlessly toward the bed. “I believe that can be arranged, Mrs. Bennett.”
Hours later, pleasantly exhausted and draped across Lucas’s chest, I finally think to ask again about our destination.
“Maldives,” he murmurs sleepily, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare back.
“Private island. Just us for two weeks.”
“Sounds perfect,” I sigh, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.
“It will be,” he promises. “No past, no family drama. Just you and me.”
I drift off to sleep in my husband’s arms, feeling safer and more cherished than I
ever have before.
We spend two blissful weeks in the Maldives, cocooned in our private villa on stilts over crystal–clear waters. Lucas is an attentive, inventive lover, and a surprisingly relaxed companion. The controlled, sometimes intimidating man I married gives way to someone playful and even occasionally silly.
I fall a little more in love with him each day.
When we return to reality, settling into Lucas’s Geneva penthouse, our happiness
continues unabated. I begin working with Cartier on my first official collection,
while Lucas manages his empire with the same effortless competence he applies
to everything.
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Three months into our marriage, I notice a familiar car passing our building several times. When I mention it to Lucas, his expression darkens.
“I’ll handle it,” he says, making a phone call.
Two days later, the news reaches us: Ethan Walton has been involved in a hit–and-
run accident. The driver was Ava, who apparently snapped after months of
psychological abuse.
“Ethan always did know how to push people past their breaking point,” I observe, feeling oddly detached from the news.
Lucas watches me carefully. “Are you upset?”
I consider the question seriously. “No,” I finally answer. “I feel… nothing. Is that
terrible?”
“It’s healing,” he corrects, pulling me into his arms. “You’ve moved on.” What the news reports don’t say what Lucas tells me later–is that Ethan’s previous leg injury, combined with the new trauma, has left him permanently paralyzed from the waist down.
“He’ll never walk again,” Lucas says, his tone neutral, though something flickers in his eyes. “Ava’s looking at serious jail time.”
A month later, we hear that Ava, released on bail and facing a lengthy prison
sentence, jumped from the roof of the Walton Investment Group headquarters. The scandal, coming on the heels of several questionable business decisions made by Ethan in his increasingly erratic state, sends the company’s stock plummeting. Within months, what was once one of New York’s most prestigious financial firms is absorbed by a competitor for pennies on the dollar.
I watch the collapse of Ethan’s world with a strange mixture of emotions–not satisfaction, exactly, but a sense of karmic balance being restored.
“Did you have anything to do with this?” I ask Lucas one night as we lie in bed, the news of Walton Investment Group’s final bankruptcy proceedings still fresh on the
financial pages.
He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers idly stroking my hair. “With the
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bankruptcy? No. That was Ethan’s own doing. Bad decisions made in desperation
tend to compound.”
“And Ava’s bail?” I press, knowing there’s more to the story.
“I may have expedited the process,” he admits. “Made sure she was released before she had time to really process the consequences she was facing.”
The calculation in his voice should disturb me, but instead, I feel a strange sense of
security. Lucas plays chess while others play checkers, always several moves
ahead.
“Did you want her to jump?” The question is blunt, but our relationship has always been built on honesty.
“No,” he says firmly. “That was her choice. A predictable one, perhaps, given her
instability, but not one I engineered.”
I believe him. Lucas is capable of ruthlessness, but not cruelty for its own sake.
There’s always purpose behind his actions, a clear–eyed assessment of benefit and
cost.
“There’s something else you should know,” he says, turning to face me fully. “I
made sure Ethan received the best medical care possible after the accident.”
This surprises me. “Why?”
His smile is cold but satisfied. “Because I promised him he would live to see your happiness with me. I intend to keep that promise.”
“Lucas…” I’m not sure if I’m admonishing or admiring him.
“I told you I’m not a saint, Sophie.” His hand cups my cheek, infinitely gentle despite the steel in his voice. “But I am a man of my word.”
I should be appalled by this calculated vengeance. Instead, I find myself strangely comforted by the lengths to which Lucas will go to protect what’s his–to protect
- me.
“I love you,” I say, the words I’ve felt for months finally spilling out. “Even the parts of you that probably terrify most people.”
His eyes soften. “Especially those parts?”
“Especially those parts,” I confirm. “Because they’re what make you you.”
His kiss is fierce. possessive, a claiming. When he pulls back, his expression is filledR
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with such tenderness it makes my heart ache.
“I love you too, Sophie Bennett. More than I ever thought possible.”
Six months later, we receive word that Ethan has been moved to a long–term care facility in Switzerland–one of the best in the world, and coincidentally, not far
from our home in Geneva.
“Another coincidence?” I ask Lucas, eyebrow raised.
He shrugs, unrepentant. “I like to keep an eye on potential threats.”
“He’s paralyzed, Lucas. Hardly a threat.”
“Never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose,” he says, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Besides, I meant what I said. I want him to see our happiness. To live with it, day after day, knowing what he threw away.”
The ruthlessness should scare me. Instead, I find myself leaning up to kiss him, grateful for this complicated, sometimes frightening man who loves me with such
fierce devotion.
“You’re terrible,” I murmur against his lips.
“And yet you love me,” he counters, pulling me closer.
“I do,” I agree. “G*d help me, I really do.”
And that’s the truth–the unexpected, wonderful truth. What began as an
arrangement of convenience has become the great love of my life. Lucas, with all his shadows and contradictions, his tenderness and his ruthlessness, has given me a happiness I never believed possible.
As for Ethan? He’ll live out his days watching our life from afar, exactly as Lucas
promised.
And I find I don’t mind that at all.
THE END
