The transition from the tailor's boutique to the Blackwood private chapel was a blur of cold rain and silent luxury.
Ren stood at the back of the stone chapel, the midnight-charcoal silk of his suit feeling like a second skin—vibrant, dark, and dangerously elegant. Julian stood at the altar, looking like a beacon of light in his ivory tuxedo, his eyes filled with a terrifyingly pure devotion.
But it wasn't Julian's gaze that made Ren's skin crawl.
Vane stood in the front row, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't looking at the priest. He wasn't looking at the flowers.
He was looking at the way the charcoal silk hugged Ren's waist—the exact spot he had gripped in the tailor's shop only hours before.
The ceremony was a hollow ritual. Ren walked down the aisle, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm. When he reached the altar, Julian took his hand, his palms warm and slightly damp with nerves.
"You look incredible," Julian whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.
Ren couldn't answer. He felt like he was suffocating. As they exchanged the platinum bands, Ren's eyes drifted to Vane. The older man gave a slow, microscopic nod. It wasn't a blessing; it was an acknowledgement of a transaction.
I do, Ren lied to the world.
I belong to you, his soul whispered to the man in the front row.
The reception was a whirlwind of champagne and hollow congratulations. By midnight, the guests had cleared out, leaving the estate in a heavy, expectant silence.
Ren sat on the edge of the bed in the bridal suite. The room was filled with white lilies—Julian's choice—but their scent was cloying, almost sickening. He was waiting for the door to open. He was waiting for his "husband."
A sharp, authoritative knock echoed through the room.
Ren's head snapped up. It wasn't Julian's hesitant tap.
The door opened to reveal Elias. "Mr. Ren. I apologize for the interruption. There has been an urgent breach at the northern docks. A legal matter that requires the Young Master's immediate signature. The Master has already escorted him to the car; Julian was distraught, but he has promised to return before dawn."
Ren stood up, the charcoal silk rustling. The room felt suddenly too large. "He's gone? On our wedding night?"
"The Master's business does not wait for sentiment, sir," Elias said, bowing his head.
"However, the Master is still in his study. He requested that you join him to... 'finalize' the insurance documents for your new jewelry."
Elias retreated, closing the door.
Ren stared at the empty room. He knew. He knew there was no breach. He knew Vane had sent Julian into the night just to clear the path.
He didn't hesitate. He walked toward the Master's wing, the silver thorn in his ear glinting in the dim hallway lights. He pushed open the heavy oak doors of Vane's study without knocking.
Vane was standing by the window, a glass of dark liquid in his hand. He didn't look surprised.
"You're late, Little Bird," Vane murmured, turning around. "The son is gone. The vows are spoken. And now, the true master of this house is waiting for his payment."