Chapter 8
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I approached slowly, studying his face. He was handsome, even in this state. Strong jawline, well-defined features, thick dark hair that someone kept neatly trimmed. If not for the stillness and the machines, he could have been sleeping.
"Hello, Alexander," I said softly, sitting in the chair beside his bed. "I had a terrible night."
I didn't know why I was talking to him. Perhaps because he was the only person who wouldn't judge me, wouldn't offer unwanted advice or false sympathy.
"I tried to get my pendant back—the one my parents gave me. But your mother was right. Some people are just petty."
I showed him the broken pendant, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "It's broken now. Your mother says she knows someone who can fix it. That was... unexpected."
I fell silent, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was oddly soothing.
"We're getting married in three days," I continued. "I don't know if anyone's told you that. It's not exactly a love match, but I think we can make it work."
I smiled wryly at my own joke. "At least you're a good listener."
I sat with him for a while longer, not speaking, just being present. There was something peaceful about this room, about Alexander's presence, that I hadn't found anywhere else in the mansion.
Eventually, I stood to leave. "I should go rest before the dress fitting. Your mother seems like someone who doesn't tolerate tardiness."
As I turned to go, I thought I saw his finger twitch. I froze, watching intently, but there was no further movement.
Just my imagination, I told myself. Or an involuntary reflex, as Victoria had said.
I left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
***
The wedding dress was simple but elegant—a cream-colored sheath with minimal embellishment. Victoria had chosen it, and I had no objections. This wasn't a celebration of love, but a business transaction.
"It fits perfectly," the seamstress said, making a final adjustment to the hem.
I stood before the mirror, barely recognizing myself. The woman reflected back at me looked sophisticated, wealthy, like she belonged in this world of old money and power.
"You look beautiful," Victoria said from the doorway.
I turned, surprised by both her presence and her compliment.
"Thank you."
She entered the room, dismissing the seamstress with a wave. When we were alone, she handed me a small velvet box.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Open it."
Inside was my pendant, restored so perfectly that the crack was barely visible. The chain had been replaced with a finer gold one.
"How...?" I began.
"I had my jeweler work through the night," Victoria said. "It's not perfect, but it's close."
I was speechless, touched by a gesture I never expected from this formidable woman.
"Thank you," I finally managed. "This means more than I can say."
Victoria nodded, accepting my gratitude without comment. "There's something else we need to discuss."
Her tone shifted to business, and I braced myself.
"After the wedding, there will be media interest. People will want to know about you, about your relationship with Alexander."
"What should I tell them?"
"As little as possible," she advised. "Say you met through mutual friends. That you had been dating quietly before his accident. Keep it simple, consistent."
I nodded, understanding the need for a coherent narrative.
"And your ex-boyfriend?" she continued. "Will he be a problem?"
I thought of Ethan, of his betrayal, of Sophia's cruelty. "No. That chapter is closed."
"Good." Victoria seemed satisfied. "Because once you become a Blackwood, there's no going back. You understand that, don't you?"
The weight of her words settled on me. This wasn't just a marriage of convenience; it was a complete transformation of my identity.
"I understand."
She studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. "I believe you do."
As she turned to leave, I called after her. "Mrs. Blackwood?"
She paused.
"Why me? There must have been other candidates—women from your social circle, with the right background."
Victoria's expression softened slightly. "Alexander always had a soft spot for strays."
Before I could process this cryptic response, she was gone, leaving me alone with my reflection and my restored pendant.
I fastened the pendant around my neck, feeling its familiar weight against my skin. It was a piece of my past, now integrated into my future.
In three days, I would become Olivia Blackwood. Wife to a man who might never wake up, daughter-in-law to a woman as formidable as she was enigmatic.
It wasn't the life I had planned, but standing there in my wedding dress, I felt something I hadn't expected.
Hope.
Not for love or happiness, necessarily, but for something equally valuable: a fresh start.
And perhaps, in this strange new world I was entering, that was enough.
