Chapter 13.
1452 Words
Chapter 13: Chains and Choices.
Dream Dauntson.
It had been one month and two weeks since Dorey’s surgery—the day I sold my soul in ink and promised myself to a man I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss or kill.
Dorey had healed beautifully. My baby girl was back to her bubbly, sassy self, and every giggle from her made that contract feel a little less like a prison.
Still... two weeks from today, I would be walking down the aisle with Mr. Drowning Demon.
Two weeks from now, I’d face vows, velvet, and possibly vengeance.
Sorry. Devon. I’m trying to be respectful now that we’re going to be “a family.” Ugh. I could practically taste the doom in the air.
Today was my wedding dress fitting day.
And that should’ve made me feel like a princess. But instead, I felt like a well-dressed hostage.
---
"Mummy, do you think they’ll have sparkles on your dress?" Dorey asked, holding my hand tightly as we walked through the massive gates of Devon’s mansion. It was 9 a.m. sharp. The sun was already judging me from above.
"I hope so, baby," I replied with a forced smile. "We need to sparkle our way out of this madness."
The moment we stepped into the mansion, I realized I had underestimated the drama. There were at least fifteen women in the living room—designers, assistants, stylists, makeup artists. They looked like a small army of fashionable locusts ready to descend on me.
And in the middle of it all stood Mr. Drowning Demon himself, looking like a Calvin Klein ad and drinking coffee like he wasn’t selling my destiny on wholesale.
His mother was the first to spot us.
"Welcome, my lovely daughter!" she beamed, hugging me like I was already hers. Her perfume could knock out a full-grown rhino. "You’re going to be the most beautiful bride ever!"
I tried to smile, but it landed somewhere between awkward and help-me-Jesus.
"This is Miss Esther, our celebrity bridal designer," she gestured proudly to a stunning woman with dramatic glasses and the confidence of a runway queen. "She will help you with your gown and everything else you need."
"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking her hand.
Before Miss Esther could reply, a tiny voice shouted across the room:
"Daddy!"
Everyone froze.
I turned just in time to see Dorey running with her arms wide open... straight to Devon.
"I can call you Daddy, right?" she asked, eyes wide, hopeful, and sparkly—the kind of eyes that could melt glaciers.
Devon, the man who usually oozed dominance like cologne, stuttered.
"Uh... I... hmmm... I guess..."
Guess?! GUESS?! Sir, you just paid for her lung surgery, you're practically listed in her blood type now!
"Oh, my little baby, you can call me Grandma!" his mother chipped in, almost elbowing Devon out of the frame.
Dorey squealed and hugged them both.
I stood there, blinking.
This was getting real.
---
After the awkward family moment, Miss Esther clapped her hands.
"Alright, ladies! Let’s get our bride fitted!"
They led me upstairs to a walk-in closet the size of my old apartment. Inside, a dress hung like a dream carved into reality.
It was called “The Dauntless Muse.”
Silhouette: A hybrid A-line and soft mermaid. It hugged me perfectly at the waist and hips, then melted into cascading tulle layers.
Neckline: Off-the-shoulder sweetheart with illusion lace that trailed like vines up my collarbone.
Fabric: Soft tulle and organza shimmered subtly beneath the lace embroidery, which looked like waves and feathered fire—like someone had stitched my entire life into the hem.
Color: Not pure white. No. It was blush champagne, with hints of warmth, like a hidden flame.
Sleeves: Detachable tulle, soft as clouds. Optional, magical.
Details: Tiny pearls and moonstones scattered across the bodice like fallen stars. A cathedral-length train spilled out behind me like a prophecy.
I stood on the platform in front of a full-length mirror.
I didn’t look like a hostage.
I looked like a storm pretending to be a bride.
Miss Esther stood behind me. "This gown is not just a dress. It’s an arrival."
I blinked, swallowing the knot in my throat.
"It feels like wearing my own shadow... and my own light."
"Exactly," she whispered.
"Mummy," Dorey whispered, running in, her eyes wide, "you look like an angel."
I broke.
A single tear slid down my cheek.
Not because I was sad.
Because, somehow, in this ridiculous whirlwind, I had found a moment of stillness.
---
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"
That peace? Gone.
That voice? Familiar.
That drama? Unavoidable.
Everyone in the room turned as Ivay stormed in like a tornado wrapped in designer leather.
"DEVON! You’re marrying her?!"
Devon stood slowly from his seat, sighing like a man who knew the war had finally arrived.
"Ivay, this isn’t the time."
"Don’t 'this isn't the time' me!" she snapped, pointing a perfectly manicured finger in my direction. "I was YOUR GIRLFRIEND! I trusted you! I stood by you when you were a cold-hearted, emotionally unavailable egomaniac! And now you’re marrying her?! Her?!"
"First of all," I said, stepping down from the platform, dress train and all, "I didn’t exactly apply for this position, sweetheart. He blackmailed me with my daughter’s surgery."
Ivay blinked.
Devon winced.
"She’s not lying," he said.
His mother gasped. Miss Esther snorted.
Ivay turned red.
"You’re both SICK. This is disgusting."
"You’re free to leave," I said sweetly. "In fact, please do. This is a dress fitting, not a villain origin monologue."
She gave me a dead stare.
"You’ll regret this, Dream Dauntson."
"Maybe," I said, smiling, "but I’ll do it in a custom gown."
She stormed out, high heels stabbing the floor like angry punctuation.
---
Later that evening, Devon found me alone in the garden.
"About earlier... I didn’t know she was coming."
"You never do, do you?" I said, not even looking at him.
He sighed.
"Dream... what do you want from this wedding?"
I turned to him, finally.
"I want choices. Not chains. I want my daughter to grow up watching a woman who chose her life, not just endured it."
"Then choose to see this differently. Choose to make it yours."
"And what will you do?"
He stepped closer.
"I’ll chain myself to you, if that’s what it takes."
I blinked.
That wasn’t what I expected.
Maybe... just maybe... the chains weren’t just holding me down.
Maybe they were connecting me to something else entirely.
Choices can be terrifying. But maybe, just maybe, they can also be freeing.
And so, with the dress of a queen and the heart of a fighter, I began to prepare for a wedding that could either break me...
...or rebuild me.
And somewhere inside that mansion, buried in secrets and silk, one truth waited to be uncovered:
Devon wasn’t done surprising me.
Not yet.
“I’m falling for you, Dream. That’s the only truth I can’t negotiate.” he whispered, or I thought I heard.
And if he had said it... I wasn’t ready to believe it. Not yet. But for the first time, I didn’t want to run.
---
The night air in Devon’s garden was cool, scented faintly with roses and power. Fairy lights draped over the hedges cast a glow that made everything look softer than it was. Devon stood in that glow, all shadows and edges, while I—still in the gown—felt like a misplaced star dropped into his orbit.
"Why me, Devon?" I asked quietly. "Out of all the women in the world, why me?"
His jaw clenched. "Because you fight me. Everyone else bends."
I laughed bitterly. "So this is a power trip?"
"No," he said firmly, stepping closer, his voice low. "It’s survival. You’re the first woman who makes me feel like I’m not just surviving. Like I’m... living."
For a second, I didn’t breathe. Because hidden under his arrogance, his deals, his contracts—there was a confession. Raw. Vulnerable. Dangerous.
And maybe... maybe that was scarier than any chain he could put on me.
When I finally tore my gaze away, I saw Dorey through the window, asleep on the couch inside, her little chest rising and falling. She was safe. She was happy. And that safety had a price tag with Devon’s name stamped all over it.
"Fine," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Let’s see where these chains take us."
Devon’s smirk returned, but his eyes softened. "Good. Because whether you like it or not, Dream... we’re already bound."
I hated that part of me didn’t disagree.
- Writer
