Six weeks later, Lake Como bloomed in white roses and summer light.
The annex foundation had become rising walls of stone and glass. Workers moved quietly in the distance, building something meant for peace.
Closer to the house, chairs lined the garden terrace.
Not hundreds.
Twenty-three.
Anna had counted twice.
Oliver had approved once and then secretly added better catering.
She noticed everything.
"You changed the menu."
"It improved."
"You added an oyster bar."
"It evolved."
"This is a wedding, not a hostile acquisition."
He adjusted his cufflinks.
"All successful mergers require incentives."
She stared at him.
"Sometimes I miss when you were emotionally repressed."
"I still am."
"No."
He kissed her once, brief and smug.
"Now I'm efficient."
There were no reporters.
No board members.
No investors.
No enemies.
Only chosen people.
Veronica in gold silk and dangerous heels, acting as if she had been born for ceremonies.
Oliver's father, visibly healthier, carrying a small wooden box with shaking hands.
A few trusted staff.
Two old friends of Anna's.
One retired housekeeper from Oliver's childhood who cried on sight and then denied it.
The lake glittered below like witness enough.
Anna stood in the garden room while Veronica adjusted her dress.
Simple ivory silk.
No crown.
No spectacle.
Just elegance.
Veronica looked at her through the mirror.
"You know he nearly threatened a florist this morning."
"Why?"
"They suggested peonies."
Anna frowned.
"And?"
"He said you preferred garden roses."
She blinked.
"I never told him that."
Veronica smiled slowly.
"That's the point."
Outside, Oliver waited beneath an arch of climbing jasmine.
He wore black, of course.
Tailored perfectly.
Expression composed.
Only the slight tension in his jaw betrayed him.
His father stepped beside him.
"You can still run."
Oliver didn't look away from the path.
"I know."
"Will you?"
"No."
A beat.
"Good," the older man said softly. "Your mother would have hated rescheduling."
For once, Oliver laughed.
When Anna appeared, the garden stilled.
Wind moved through the roses.
Somewhere nearby, church bells carried faintly across water.
Oliver forgot every prepared sentence.
Anna reached him and smiled slightly.
"Nervous?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Yes."
She squeezed his hand.
Honesty suited him.
They stood before a local magistrate who seemed delighted and mildly intimidated.
The ceremony was short because neither of them enjoyed unnecessary speeches.
When asked if he took Anna by his own free will, Oliver answered:
"Enthusiastically."
Several people laughed.
Anna raised a brow.
"Show-off."
When asked the same, she said:
"Against all early judgment, yes."
More laughter.
Then vows.
They had agreed to write their own.
Oliver went first.
He unfolded a page.
Then set it aside.
"I prepared something strategic," he said. "It was terrible."
Anna smiled helplessly.
So he spoke without notes.
"You met me when I believed control was the same as strength."
His gaze never left hers.
"You stayed long enough to prove I was wrong."
A beat.
"You challenge me, steady me, infuriate me, and make every room worth entering."
Emotion moved visibly through the guests.
Even Veronica looked threatened by sincerity.
"I cannot promise perfection."
Anna murmured, "Good."
"I can promise this—every version of my future has you in it."
Silence.
Then Anna, blinking too quickly, took her turn.
"I once thought you were the most dangerous man I'd ever met."
Veronica whispered, "Still true."
Anna continued.
"I was right."
Laughter broke the tears.
"But danger can destroy… or protect. Power can cage… or shelter."
She lifted his hand.
"You learned the difference."
Her voice softened.
"And you taught me that being chosen daily matters more than being pursued dramatically."
Oliver looked offended.
"I was excellent at dramatic pursuit."
"You were alarming."
The guests laughed again.
Then she steadied.
"I choose you in peace, not just crisis. In ordinary mornings, not only burning nights."
His throat moved once.
"I choose the man you built after surviving."
The magistrate declared them married.
Again.
By choice.
Oliver kissed her before the sentence finished.
Long enough for applause to become laughter.
Veronica shouted, "Boundaries!"
No one listened.
Later, as music drifted through the garden and champagne flowed, Oliver's father handed Anna the small wooden box.
Inside lay the old silver watch and a note.
He was gentle first.
Keep reminding him.
Anna closed the lid carefully.
"I will."
Across the terrace, Oliver watched her.
Still powerful.
Still dangerous.
But no longer alone.
She crossed to him.
"What now?" she asked.
He glanced toward the rising annex walls, the lake, their guests, the life waiting beyond the day.
Then back at her.
"Now," he said quietly, "we keep choosing."