MARRIED TO THE KING WHO FEARD THE SUN

A Quiet Wedding

The wedding took place three days later.

There were no paparazzi hiding in the bushes. No roaring helicopters, no celebrity guest lists, no magazine covers bought for millions. For the wedding of one of the richest men in the country, it was astonishingly, almost suspiciously, private.

Liora pressed her hand against the cool glass of the black sedan, watching the city skyline shrink into the distance. "Are we leaving town?"

Mara, seated beside her in a sleek charcoal dress, offered a polite smile. "Only for an hour, Mrs. Ashford."

"You still haven't told me where we're going," Liora noted, turning her head. "Or why I couldn't drive myself."

"Mr. Ashford wanted it to be a surprise."

Liora sighed, pulling her coat tighter. "I suppose I should get used to mysterious answers."

"You'll find Mr. Ashford isn't mysterious on purpose," Mara said, her tone softening with a rare warmth. "He simply doesn't speak unless he has something worth saying."

The car slowed, turning through a pair of colossal wrought-iron gates. Beyond them lay sweeping gardens filled with white roses and ancient oak trees. At the end of a winding stone driveway stood a grand, timeless estate stone pillars, ivy-covered balconies, and classic architecture that breathed quiet, generational power.

"It's breathtaking," Liora breathed.

"It has belonged to the Ashford family for over two centuries," Mara replied as the car glided to a halt.

A woman in a crisp navy dress stepped forward to open Liora's door. "Miss Hale? I'm Clara. Please, follow me we need to get you into your gown."

Liora blinked, stepping out into the fresh, rain-scented air. "You already have a dress?"

"Tailored to the exact measurements you provided on your employment forms," Clara said with a light twinkle in her eye.

Liora let out a breathless laugh. "So that's why they asked for my waist size on a restoration job application. That is incredibly sneaky."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Clara teased.

An hour later, Liora stood before a floor to ceiling mirror, her breath catching in her throat.

The dress was a masterpiece of restraint. Ivory silk flowed down her figure like liquid glass, breaking into delicate lace sleeves that hugged her arms. No heavy jewels, no gaudy glitter, no dramatic twenty-foot train. It looked like an heirloom pulled from a royal vault.

Clara smiled warmly behind her. "It suits you perfectly."

A soft knock echoed at the door. "They're ready," Mara announced.

Liora took a slow, steadying breath, pressing her palms against her stomach to quiet the sudden flutter of nerves, and followed them downstairs.

The ceremony took place in a glass conservatory overflowing with climbing white roses. Sunlight filtered through the rain-streaked panes, casting soft golden light over the handful of people present—two lawyers, an officiant, Mara, and Caelan.

He turned as she stepped onto the marble aisle.

For the first time, Caelan wasn't wearing black. He stood in a tailored charcoal suit with a silver tie, looking striking,

His blue eyes locked onto hers, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her pulse leap.

"You look beautiful, Liora," he said quietly as she reached his side.

"Thank you," she whispered, a small smile breaking through her nervous exterior. "You look... less intimidating."

A low, quiet laugh escaped his chest. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The ceremony was swift, taking less than fifteen minutes. Legal vows were exchanged, signatures inked onto parchment, and plain white-gold bands slipped onto their left ring fingers.

No theatrical kiss followed. Instead, Caelan picked up her hand, his warm fingers wrapping gently around hers.

"Mrs. Ashford," he murmured, his thumb brushing her knuckle.

She stared down at the gleaming ring. The title sounded surreal. "So... I’m married."

At the garden lunch that followed, the atmosphere was relaxed and elegant. Staff members offered warm congratulations, but as dessert was served, Liora noticed a detail that chilled her.

The table was loaded with roasted meats, fresh breads, pastries, and fruits. Everyone ate. Everyone... except Caelan.

His plate remained untouched, exactly where the waiter had placed it. He simply held a cup of black coffee, watching the gardens with an unreadable expression.

Liora leaned toward him. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Caelan glanced down at his plate, then back at her. "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't touched a single bite. Coffee isn't lunch, Caelan."

A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched his lips. "I've never cared much for food."

"Not even dessert? What kind of billionaire doesn't like dessert?"

"The disappointing kind," he replied smoothly.

Liora laughed softly. "I'll have to fix that."

Caelan stared at her for a long second, his eyes darkening with a intense, quiet emotion. "Perhaps."

By nightfall, a private car brought them to Caelan's primary residence a secluded mansion surrounded by towering pine trees.

As Liora stepped through the grand foyer, her eyes swept over the polished dark wood, high ceilings, and walls lined with priceless art. But as an architect, she picked up on the cold truth immediately.

Landscapes. Architecture. Historical portraits of historical figures.

"You don't have any family pictures?" she asked quietly, turning to face him.

A shadow crossed Caelan's features so fast she almost missed it. "I'll show you to your room," he said, stepping toward the grand staircase.

"My room?" she repeated.

"Our rooms," Caelan corrected gently as they reached the second floor. "They are on opposite ends of the hallway."

Liora stopped, glancing at him in surprise. "We're married... and sleeping in separate wings?"

Caelan turned to face her, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets. "If that disappoints you, Liora... I apologize."

She let out a soft laugh. "NoIt doesn't."

"Good." His voice dropped, low and sincere. "I will never claim a place in your life or your bed that you haven't freely given."

Liora stared at him, the quiet respect in his words hitting her deeper than any grand romantic gesture ever could.

Unpacking late that night, Liora walked over to her bedroom window. Across the central courtyard, a single amber light glowed from the mansion's massive library.

She checked her watch:12:15 AM.

"Does this man ever sleep?" she murmured to herself.