Chapter 414
–uuy s pilIIonalre Empe
Adam took both her hands in his, his voice low but carrying across the hushed garden. “I spent years building walls and empires, thinking that was all that mattered. Then I lost you twice–once when I didn’t even know what I had, and again When I discovered the truth.” His voice cracked slightly. “I wasted so much time, Irene. But fate gave us another chance, and I swear I won’t waste a single day of it.” He glanced at the iplets, who were watching with unusual stillness. “You gave me three miracles I never knew existed and a love I never thought possible. I promise to be the father they deserve and the partner you need–in laughter, in struggle, in everything.
Irene blinked back tears, her fingers tightening around his. “When I was alone, raising our children, I built my own walls- convinced myself that needing anyone was weakness, that I had to do everything myself.” She smiled through her tears. “Then you and our little conspirators knocked those walls down brick by stubborn brick. You showed me that real strength isn’t about standing alone–it’s about knowing when to lean on someone else.” She took a shaky breath. “I promise to trust you with my weaknesses as well as my strengths, to build our empire together–not of wealth or power, but of love and family.”
Adam’s hands trembled slightly as he slid the wedding band onto her finger. “With this ring,” he said, his voice husky with emotion, “I make you my family–today, tomorrow, forever.”
“With this ring,” Irene echoed, sliding his band into place, her eyes never leaving his, “I make you my family today, tomorrow, forever.”
When the officiant declared them husband and wife, Adam didn’t wait for permission. He pulled Irene into his arms with surprising urgency, one hand cradling her face as if she might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Their kiss spoke volumes–years of separation, months of healing, and a future they’d fought hard to claim.
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Brandon let out an actual whoop, quickly covering it with a cough when Katherine raised an eyebrow at him. The triplets‘ reactions were priceless–Alex attempting to look dignified while secretly wiping his eye, Lucas making exaggerated gagging noises while grinning from ear to ear, and Lily bouncing up and down, clapping her hands with abandoned joy.
The Haven mansion’s ballroom had been transformed into a wonderland of twinkling lights and candles that cast a golden glow over everything. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter rippled through the crowd, and in the center of it all, Adam and Irene moved across the dance floor with effortless grace.
He pulled her closer than was strictly proper for a formal dance his lips brushing her ear. “So, Mrs. Haven,” he murmured, “how does it feel to run off with the Haven fortune?”
Irene laughed, leaning back to see his face. “First, I’m keeping Sterling professionally–Dr. Sterling has a reputation to maintain.” She moved back into his arms. “And second, I think we both know who actually claimed the Haven fortune. She nodded toward the triplets, who were currently charming Joseph’s elderly friends with alarming effectiveness.
Adam’s laugh rumbled against her. “True. I think they had us outmaneuvered from day one.”
Midway through the evening, Irene noticed Brandon and Katherine sneaking back into the ballroom, looking suspiciously disheveled. Brandon’s meticulously styled hair was now sticking up at odd angles, his’tie hanging loose and askew. Katherine was attempting to smooth down her windblown hair while picking what looked suspiciously like a leaf from her dress.
“Well, well,” Irene said, intercepting them by the champagne table, “you two look like you’ve been… sightseeing?”
Brandon’s ears turned pink. “Just took Katherine for a quick spin in the new Aston Martin, he muttered, avoiding Irene’s knowing gaze.
1/2
Katherine snorted, reaching over to straighten his collar. “A spl is a generous description. More like this amateur tried to show off his so–called drifting skills and nearly took out your mother’s prize rosebushes.”
“I did not!” Brandon protested, his embarrassment forgotten. “That was a perfectly executed drift. You screamed because you were impressed, not scared.”
“That wasn’t a scream of terror,” Katherine said with exaggerated patience, helping herself to champagne. “It was a scream of ‘oh my god, this man has a professional racing license?“” She turned to Irene with a dramatic eye roll. “Honestly, as the best racer at your wedding, I feel obligated to give your brother–in–law proper lessons before he embarrasses the family name.”
Brandon’s mouth twitched, “Best racer? That’s a bold claim for someone who white–knuckled my passenger seat.”
“Next time,” Katherine poked his chest with a perfectly manicured finger, “I drive, you scream. Deal?”
Across the room, Wesley hovered near the bar, watching Emily laugh with colleagues. He’d been working up the courage to approach her all evening, refilling his barely–touched champagne twice as an excuse to delay. Finally, he took a deep breath and walked over, his champagne sloshing slightly in its glass from his trembling hand.
“So,” he said, immediately wincing at the awkward opener, “I heard you’re joining Irene at the research institute.”
Emily turned, her professional smile softening when she recognized him. “That’s the plan. Neural regeneration is my specialty, and Irene’s techniques are revolutionary.”
Wesley nodded too enthusiastically, then held up his trembling hand between them. “I’ve been thinking… maybe I could help. As a test subject, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “My nerve damage is pretty unique–painting for eighteen hours straight will do that. Could be useful data for your research.”
Emily’s eyes widened with interest, immediately shifting from social politeness to professional curiosity. She gently took his wrist, turning his hand in hers with careful fingers. “Fascinating. The tremor pattern is unusual.” She looked up, suddenly realizing how close they were standing. “Sorry–doctor mode takes over sometimes.”
“Don’t apologize,” Wesley said, not pulling his hand away. “It’s refreshing to talk to someone who sees this as interesting rather than just broken.”
“Nothing about you seems broken to me,” Emily replied, then blushed slightly. “Medically speaking, of course.”
“The medical benefits would be nice,” Wesley admitted with a crooked smile, “but honestly, I was also hoping to get your perspective on some new paintings. My studio’s been missing… something. Maybe a neuroscientist’s eye is exactly what I need.”
“I’d like that,” Emily said, still holding his hand a moment longer than strictly necessary for medical observation.
