Celine felt as though she was moving in a dream. The house, usually so stately and grand, felt oppressive and claustrophobic. Her heart pounded in her chest as she descended the staircase, each step bringing her closer to a future she hadn't fully prepared for. The thought of marrying Lucas had always been there, but not like this—not so sudden, not so forced.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Lucas already positioned in the large drawing room. The room was a blend of classical elegance and modern opulence, with high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and intricately patterned rugs. The furniture was rich and dark, and large windows let in the evening light, casting long shadows across the room.
Lucas sat in his wheelchair, his posture rigid and his face a mask of determinat
