Chapter 8 - EPILOGUE - THE REAL VOWSSix months later, the front page of every major newspaper in the country featured a very different kind of photograph.
No flashing paparazzi lights in dark hallways. No frantic runaways grabbing strangers in hotel ballrooms.
Just a sunlit cliffside chapel in upstate New York overlooking the Hudson River.
There were only forty guests—close friends, trusted advisors, and a very happy nine-year-old girl named Clara who held the bouquet of white roses with fierce pride.
Amelia stood at the altar in a simple, elegant silk gown that felt like armor and silk all at once. As Gabriel lifted her veil, his eyes shone with a quiet, unconditional devotion that made the rest of the world fade away.
They didn't need a script. They didn't need a trap.
"Do you, Amelia Carter, take this man to be your lawfully wedded partner in every storm?" the officiant asked softly.
Amelia looked at Gabriel, remembering the night she had thrown her arms around a complete stranger in a desperate bid for survival, never knowing that the stranger was building a fortress just to keep her safe.
May you like
"I do," Amelia said clearly.
And as Gabriel slipped the simple platinum band onto her finger, sealing a vow born from chaos and forged in truth, Amelia knew she would never have to hide again.
