Chapter 7 - Forever YoursFor three days, I lived in a small hotel room, throwing myself into my work at DeLuca Enterprises to numb the crushing ache in my chest. I hadn't seen Roman since that night. He hadn't come to the office, and Marcus refused to answer my questions about where he was.
On Friday evening, as I was leaving my office building, Marcus was waiting by the black Maybach.
"Mrs. DeLuca," Marcus said respectfully, opening the door. "Mr. DeLuca requests your presence at the Plaza Hotel."
My heart did a violent flip. The Plaza. The exact place where this crazy journey had begun.
"Marcus, we signed the divorce papers," I said quietly.
"He didn't sign them, ma'am," Marcus replied with a subtle, warm smile. "Please. Just hear him out."
Twenty minutes later, I walked into the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel.
The room was completely empty of guests. The blinding chandeliers shone down on thousands of white roses covering the marble floor. Soft piano music echoed through the towering space.
Standing at the center of the room, wearing a simple dark suit without a tie, was Roman.
I walked slowly down the aisle toward him, my heels clicking softly against the marble. "Roman... what is this?"
Roman turned to face me. In his hand, he held the divorce papers I had signed—and a lighter.
Before I could speak, he flicked the lighter and set the papers ablaze, dropping them into a glass ash tray where they burned into harmless black cinders.
"Roman!" I gasped.
"That contract was the biggest mistake of my life," Roman said, stepping closer until there was no space left between us. He reached out and took both of my hands, his fingers trembling slightly. "Because it made you think my love for you was a transaction."
My breath hitched in my throat. "What?"
"I didn't notice you outside that café because my grandmother told me to, Lena," Roman confessed, his deep voice filled with a raw, fierce emotion I had never heard from him before. "I noticed you because in a world full of fake, power-hungry people like Celeste and Victor, you were the most genuine, beautiful soul I had ever seen. I had been looking for an excuse to talk to you for weeks."
Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened to his words.
"When I saw those monsters laughing at your dress that night, my heart broke," Roman continued, cupping my cheek with his warm hand, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "I claimed you as my wife because I couldn't bear the thought of anyone hurting you. I made that stupid contract because I was terrified that if I told you the truth—that I was hopelessly in love with you—you would run away."
"Roman..." I whimpered, leaning into his touch.
"I don't want a six-month contract, Lena," Roman whispered softly, falling down onto one knee right there on the rose-covered floor. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a magnificent, glowing diamond ring. "I want a lifetime. I want the real thing. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and truly become my wife?"
I burst into tears, dropping down to my knees in front of him and wrapping my arms tightly around his neck.
"Yes! Yes, Roman! A thousand times yes!" I cried out, kissing him deeply as the music soared through the empty ballroom.
May you like
Roman laughed with pure joy, pulling me tight into his embrace and sliding the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
Six months later, we returned to the Plaza—not for a corporate gala, but for our actual wedding. Surrounded by real friends, true love, and endless happiness, I wore a breathtaking white gown. And as I looked into Roman's eyes and swore my vows, I knew that the dress never mattered—because true love sees the beauty within, and ours was written to last forever.
