Chapter Six — The Wedding
1746 Words
The wedding was scheduled for Saturday.
Three days after Amara signed the contract.
Three days to become a Blackwood.
Three days to marry a man who still didn't trust her.
By Friday evening, the entire city seemed to know.
News websites carried photographs of Damian leaving Blackwood Group.
Financial reporters speculated about the mysterious woman named in Victor Blackwood's will.
Social media had already given her several names.
The Billionaire's Secret Bride.
The Unknown Heiress.
The Woman Who Stole the Blackwood Fortune.
Amara stared at one headline on her phone.
WHO IS AMARA VALE?
She locked the screen.
“I hate this.”
Celine sat across from her.
“You can still stop.”
Amara looked at her mother.
“Can I?”
Celine didn't answer.
That silence was becoming familiar.
Amara sighed.
“You still won't tell me about the baby.”
Celine looked down.
“No.”
“Or the hospital.”
“No.”
“Or why Victor Blackwood knew you.”
“No.”
“Or why someone thinks I don't know who my mother is.”
Celine's face went pale.
“Where did you hear that?”
Amara immediately noticed.
“You reacted.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
Celine stood.
“Amara, please.”
“No.”
Her mother looked at her.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, don't let them separate you from your own mind.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don't let Damian decide what you believe.”
Amara frowned.
“Do you think he's dangerous?”
Celine hesitated.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I think he's a Blackwood.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is the only answer I can give you.”
Celine walked toward her.
She touched Amara's cheek.
“When you were little, I promised myself nobody would ever take you from me.”
Amara's expression softened.
“Mom…”
Celine pulled her into a hug.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Celine whispered,
“If you ever find out what happened twenty-four years ago, remember one thing.”
“What?”
“I loved you.”
Amara pulled back.
“Why are you saying it like a goodbye?”
Celine smiled sadly.
“Because tomorrow everything changes.”
Saturday morning arrived too quickly.
The Blackwood estate looked like something from another world.
Black cars lined the driveway.
Security guards stood at every entrance.
Inside, staff moved through the halls carrying flowers, champagne and wedding decorations.
Amara stood in front of a mirror.
The dress was simple.
Elegant.
White silk.
Nothing excessive.
She looked at her reflection.
For twenty-four years, she had been Amara Vale.
In a few hours, she would become Amara Blackwood.
The name felt strange.
Almost dangerous.
There was a knock.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
Damian stood there.
He wore a black tuxedo.
For a moment, Amara forgot what she was about to say.
He looked unfairly good.
His eyes moved over her.
Then stopped.
“You look…”
He paused.
Amara raised an eyebrow.
“Careful.”
“Different.”
She laughed.
“That was almost a compliment.”
“It wasn't.”
“Of course not.”
He stepped inside.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“Good?”
“Neither am I.”
That was the most honest thing he'd said to her.
They stood in silence.
Then Damian said,
“There are reporters outside.”
“I know.”
“My family will be there.”
“I know.”
“Some of them don't want this marriage.”
“Your aunt made that very clear yesterday.”
Damian's expression hardened.
“Vivienne has her opinions.”
“She practically threatened me.”
“She threatens everyone.”
“That doesn't make it better.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“If anyone says anything to you today, don't respond.”
Amara smiled.
“You're already giving me instructions.”
“I'm trying to prevent a disaster.”
“You married a woman who doesn't take instructions well.”
“We haven't married yet.”
“Give it an hour.”
For the first time, Damian smiled.
It was brief.
But real.
Amara felt something strange in her chest.
She immediately looked away.
“This doesn't mean anything.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
The ceremony was held in the estate's glass hall.
Hundreds of guests watched.
Business partners.
Family friends.
Blackwood executives.
Reporters waited outside the gates.
Amara walked toward Damian.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
She could hear whispers.
“That's her.”
“She came from nowhere.”
“Five hundred million…”
“She must have planned this.”
Amara kept walking.
Then she reached him.
Damian held out his hand.
She took it.
His fingers closed around hers.
Warm.
Steady.
For one second, the noise disappeared.
The officiant began.
Amara barely heard the words.
Then came the vows.
“Damian Blackwood,” the officiant said, “do you take Amara Vale as your legally wedded wife?”
Damian looked directly at her.
There was no anger in his eyes now.
No suspicion.
Only something she couldn't identify.
“I do.”
The words struck her unexpectedly.
Then the officiant turned toward her.
“Amara Vale, do you take Damian Blackwood as your legally wedded husband?”
She looked at him.
This wasn't love.
Not yet.
It was a contract.
A mystery.
A trap designed by a dead man.
But she also knew one thing.
If she walked away now, she might never learn the truth.
“I do.”
Applause filled the room.
The officiant smiled.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Amara's heart jumped.
Damian stepped closer.
His hand settled lightly against her waist.
She whispered,
“Do we have to?”
His voice was just as quiet.
“Everyone is watching.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one you need.”
He leaned toward her.
Their lips met.
It was brief.
Careful.
Almost formal.
But when they separated, Amara felt the warmth of his hand still against her waist.
Damian looked at her for a second longer than necessary.
Then stepped back.
The room erupted in applause.
Amara smiled for the cameras.
But inside, her heart was beating too fast.
The reception began an hour later.
Amara stood beside Damian as guests congratulated them.
Adrian approached first.
“Congratulations.”
Amara smiled.
“Thank you.”
He looked at his brother.
“Try not to kill each other before the honeymoon.”
Damian gave him a cold look.
Adrian laughed.
“I'm joking.”
“Don't.”
Adrian turned to Amara.
“If you ever need someone to explain this family to you…”
Damian interrupted.
“She doesn't.”
Adrian smiled.
“See?”
He walked away.
Amara watched him.
“Your brother is strange.”
“That's the nicest thing anyone has said about him.”
Before she could answer, Vivienne approached.
She was elegant in a dark green dress, her expression perfectly composed.
“Amara.”
“Vivienne.”
Vivienne's eyes moved over her.
“So this is what my brother's final decision has brought us.”
Amara remained calm.
“You're welcome to congratulate us.”
Vivienne smiled.
“I don't congratulate accidents.”
Damian stepped forward.
“Enough.”
Vivienne looked at him.
“Your father would have hated this.”
The words silenced him.
Amara felt his hand tighten around hers.
Vivienne leaned closer.
“Be careful, girl.”
Amara met her eyes.
“Of what?”
Vivienne smiled.
“Of believing that being a Blackwood's wife makes you a Blackwood.”
Then she walked away.
Amara watched her leave.
“What did she mean?”
Damian's expression was hard.
“Don't worry about it.”
“I hate when you say that.”
“I know.”
Later that night, the guests were gone.
The estate became quiet.
Too quiet.
Amara stood in the hallway outside the bedroom Damian had assigned to her.
Her bedroom.
Not theirs.
At least that was the arrangement.
She reached for the door.
A voice stopped her.
“Amara.”
She turned.
An older woman stood at the end of the corridor.
Amara recognized her from the ceremony.
One of Victor's former employees.
“What is it?”
The woman looked nervous.
“Your mother lied to you.”
Amara froze.
“What?”
The woman glanced around.
“I shouldn't have come.”
“Wait.”
She stepped closer.
“What did my mother lie about?”
The woman looked toward the stairs.
Then back at Amara.
“Everything.”
Amara's pulse quickened.
“What does that mean?”
The woman opened her mouth.
Then footsteps sounded behind them.
She immediately stepped away.
“Don't trust anyone in this house.”
“Who?”
But the woman was already walking away.
Amara followed.
“Wait!”
The woman disappeared around the corner.
Amara hurried after her.
The hallway was empty.
She stopped.
Then heard something.
A door closing.
At the far end of the corridor.
Amara walked toward it.
She reached for the handle.
Locked.
She looked at the small brass plaque beside it.
PRIVATE ARCHIVE.
Her heart began pounding.
The locked room.
The room Damian had forbidden her from entering.
A shadow moved beneath the door.
Someone was inside.
Amara stepped backward.
Then her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
There was only one sentence.
YOUR MOTHER KNOWS WHY VICTOR CHOSE YOU.
Amara stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
ASK HER ABOUT THE CHILD.
Her blood ran cold.
Behind her, a voice whispered,
“You shouldn't be here.”
Amara turned.
Damian stood at the end of the hallway.
His face was unreadable.
His eyes moved from her to the locked archive.
Then back to her.
“What are you doing here?”
Amara held up her phone.
“Trying to find out what everyone is hiding from me.”
Damian's expression changed.
For the first time, she saw something dangerously close to fear.
“Amara,” he said quietly.
“Stay away from that door.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
Damian didn't answer.
And that was when Amara realized the locked room wasn't hiding her family's secrets.
It was hiding his.
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