Chapter 29 – The Wedding We Chose
They didn't send invitations.
There were no gold-rimmed cards, no velvet boxes, no social media announcements.
Just two texts: one to Juliette, the other to Kian.
The people who mattered already knew.
The private cove in Capri was hidden behind a wall of jagged cliffs. No tourists. No cameras. Just seafoam, wind, and the deep hum of something ancient and wild.
The sun was low in the sky when Elara stepped barefoot onto the sand, her white dress fluttering gently around her. It wasn't a gown—it was hers, soft and simple, sewn by a local seamstress who didn't care about designer labels.
Juliette stood beside her, fixing the flower crown woven through her curls.
"You ready?" Juliette asked.
Elara took a slow breath.
"I've never been more."
Damian wore no tie.
Just a white button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his hair tousled by salt and breeze. He stood barefoot too, waiting at the center of a crescent of candles arranged in the sand.
Kian clapped him on the back. "You look like a man who's finally figured out what matters."
"I have," Damian said.
"And?"
"She does."
There was no music, no aisle.
Elara simply walked to him—one step, then another—until her hand was in his and their foreheads touched.
Juliette began the vows, not as an officiant, but as a friend who had seen both of them shatter and rebuild.
"Today isn't about perfection," she said. "It's about truth. About choosing each other again, without obligation. No contracts. No contingencies. Just hearts."
They faced each other.
Damian spoke first.
"Elara Vale—before you, I didn't know how to love. I knew how to conquer. How to survive. But you broke every wall I built and taught me that power means nothing without vulnerability. I vow to never wear a mask again. Not with you. Not with our child. I vow to be soft where I was once sharp. To build a life, not an empire. With you. Always."
Elara's voice trembled.
"Damian Voss—you were the storm that wrecked me, and the shelter that saved me. You took my fire and matched it with your own. You didn't just stand by me, you saw me, even when I couldn't see myself. I vow to never run again. To love you in clarity and chaos. To forgive. To fight. And to hold your hand every time we face the world."
They didn't need rings.
They had scars and promises—and both were more permanent than gold.
Juliette smiled, wiping a tear.
"You may kiss your choice."
And they did.
Soft. Sure. Eternal.
The celebration was quiet.
A bonfire on the beach. Fresh seafood. Laughter. No paparazzi. No CEOs. No headlines.
Just love.
At one point, Damian wrapped an arm around Elara from behind, his hand resting over the slight curve of her belly.
Kian grinned. "Next chapter's coming quick, huh?"
"We're ready," Damian said.
Elara smiled. "Finally."
Later, as the fire died and stars took over the sky, Elara and Damian slipped away from the group and walked down the shoreline.
The moonlight spilled across the waves like silver ink.
Damian paused.
"I used to think legacy was what mattered most," he said. "My name. My empire. The numbers."
"And now?" she asked.
He looked at her belly. Then at her.
"Now I know. You are the legacy."
Her throat tightened. "We built something from ashes, Damian. That matters more than any name."
He leaned in, forehead against hers.
"No more cold-hearted boss."
She laughed softly.
"No more running woman."
And the wind whispered around them, sealing the vow that mattered most:
They chose each other.