Chapter 5 - The Aftermath of the StormWithin five minutes, the lobby outside the ballroom was a scene of absolute, unmitigated disaster for the Wexler family.
Chloe had already called an Uber, screaming at Daniel in the middle of the hotel entrance while he stood frozen, clutching his phone as his corporate email account was systematically locked out one notification at a time. Vanessa had locked herself in the ladies' restroom, refusing to come out even when pounding was applied by the catering staff.
Meanwhile, inside the ballroom, the music had started back up. The guests, recovering from the shock of the public execution they had just witnessed, returned to their drinks and dancing, though every single eye flickered nervously toward Ryan and me whenever we walked past.
Ryan led me away from the crowd toward a quiet, private terrace overlooking the glittering lights of the Manhattan skyline.
The cool autumn air hit my face, carrying the scent of rain and city asphalt. I leaned against the stone balustrade, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared out at the twinkling expanse of skyscrapers.
"You didn't have to do that," I said quietly, though my voice lacked any real conviction.
"Which part?" Ryan asked, leaning against the railing beside me, his gaze fixed on my profile. "Destroying his corporate career, or calling you my wife in front of half the social elite of New York?"
I turned my head to look at him, a half-smile finally breaking through the numbness of the evening. "Both. You realize he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to figure out how a waitress from a diner managed to take down his entire future."
"He didn't take down his future because of a waitress," Ryan corrected softly, turning to face me fully. "He destroyed his future because he was blind. He looked at you and saw bills, a diner uniform, and student loans. He was too stupid to realize he was looking at an artist, a writer, and a woman who deserved an empire."
My breath hitched. The sincerity in his voice—so raw, so completely devoid of billionaire arrogance—hit me harder than anything else that evening.
"Why did you really do it, Ryan?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "The coffee shop story... that’s true, I know it is. But there has to be more. You don't upend corporate real estate deals and crash weddings just because you felt sorry for a girl crying over a manuscript."
Ryan reached out, his warm fingers gently tracing along my jawline, tilting my face upward so I had no choice but to look into his dark, searching eyes.
"I told you," he murmured, his thumb brushing softly against my cheekbone. "It wasn't pity, Ellie. From the moment I saw you walk into that café three months ago, refusing to let the world break you... I knew I was looking at my future."
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My heart pounded frantically against my ribs. "Your future? We've only spoken two actual sentences to each other!"
"Then let's make it three," Ryan replied, a slow, breathtaking smile curving his lips. "Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night? No fake weddings, no billionaire games. Just you and me."
