Chapter 5 - The Wedding That Almost Didn't Happen
Bianca canceled the ballroom.
That was the first shock.
The second was that Celeste did not stop her.
By noon, the Mercer wedding had transformed from a three-hundred-guest society event into a private ceremony for forty people at the small lakeside church where Nabil Haddad’s parents had married.
Social media exploded.
Family members called.
Aunts complained.
One cousin demanded reimbursement for a designer dress.
Bianca turned off her phone.
Sadi found her sister sitting on the floor of their childhood bedroom surrounded by boxes of wedding favors that would never be used.
“You hate caramel,” Bianca said when Sadi entered.
Sadi looked at the little gold boxes.
“Yes.”
“Mom ordered six hundred caramel truffles.”
“That sounds like her.”
Bianca laughed weakly.
Then she started crying.
Sadi sat beside her.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Finally Bianca said, “I knew she treated you differently.”
Sadi looked down.
“I didn't know how much.”
“I did.”
Bianca wiped her face.
“I just told myself it wasn’t my job to fix it.”
Sadi said nothing.
“I liked being the easy daughter,” Bianca continued. “The pretty one. The one whose pictures she showed people. When she criticized you, I felt guilty, but I also felt relieved it wasn’t me.”
The honesty hurt.
But it was cleaner than excuses.
Bianca looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Sadi leaned against the bed.
“I don't know what to do with everyone apologizing this week.”
“You could make a spreadsheet.”
Sadi laughed.
Bianca smiled through tears.
Then her face became serious.
“Are you actually with Roman?”
Sadi stared at the ceiling.
“That is an excellent question.”
“Do you like him?”
Another excellent question.
“Yes.”
Bianca’s eyes widened.
“Oh my God.”
“Please don't do that.”
“You like Roman Rossi.”
“You are getting married tomorrow. Focus.”
“Is he good to you?”
Sadi thought about the blue guest suite.
The attorney’s card.
The way Roman had stood between her and Caruso without speaking for her when the decision mattered.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “But I don't know if that means I should be with him.”
Bianca nodded.
“Because of what he does?”
“Because of everything.”
Roman’s world was controlled, guarded, dangerous.
Even when he was gentle with her, danger seemed to wait one room away.
Sadi had spent too much of her life making herself smaller to survive other people’s choices.
She would not do it again for love.
Not even Roman.
Especially Roman.
That evening, the family gathered at the Haddad house.
No florists.
No photographers.
No society friends.
Just immediate family, Noah’s parents, and Roman, who arrived only because Bianca had personally invited him.
Celeste opened the door.
For one awkward second, she and Roman faced each other.
Then Celeste stepped aside.
“Mr. Rossi.”
“Mrs. Haddad.”
Sadi watched from the living room.
Roman wore a charcoal suit without a tie.
He carried no visible sign of power except the fact that everyone noticed when he entered.
He looked at Sadi.
The room disappeared.
Only for a second.
But enough.
Celeste noticed.
So did Bianca.
Sadi immediately looked away.
Dinner was simple.
Roast chicken.
Rice.
Salad.
Food Sadi’s grandmother had cooked when they were children.
Halfway through the meal, Nabil stood.
His face was tired after the previous morning’s collapse, but his voice was steady.
“I owe my daughter an apology.”
Sadi stopped breathing.
Her father looked at her.
“I did not know your signature was used. But I knew our finances were bad. I knew your mother was frightened. I chose not to ask enough questions because I was ashamed.”
Celeste stared at her plate.
Nabil continued.
“I spent my life telling myself silence kept peace.”
Sadi thought of Ethan.
Of Bianca.
Of herself.
Silence had been the family religion.
Nabil’s eyes glistened.
“It did not keep peace. It kept truth away.”
Sadi swallowed.
“I am sorry.”
This apology was harder to reject.
Because it did not ask her to make him feel better.
It simply existed.
She nodded.
“I hear you.”
It was not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But it was something.
After dinner, Sadi stepped onto the back porch.
The November air was sharp.
Roman joined her.
“You're cold.”
“I have survived weather before.”
He removed his coat anyway.
Sadi stared at it.
“I am capable of owning a coat.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you giving me yours?”
“Because yours is inside.”
She took it.
“Annoyingly logical.”
Roman leaned against the railing.
For a moment, they listened to the lake wind.
Then Sadi asked, “What happens with Caruso?”
“He will challenge the fraud claim.”
“Can he win?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably?”
“I dislike lying to you.”
She appreciated that.
Roman looked toward the dark yard.
“Your mother’s admission, Ethan’s testimony, and the document history are strong. Caruso will attempt pressure.”
“On me?”
“Possibly.”
Sadi studied his profile.
“You want me to stay at the mansion.”
“Yes.”
“As your employee?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
Roman met her eyes.
“I want you to stop working for me.”
The words hit harder than expected.
Sadi pulled his coat tighter.
“So you are firing me.”
“No.”
“That sounds like firing.”
“I am asking you to choose something else because I cannot pursue you while signing your paycheck.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“Pursue me?”
Roman’s expression remained serious.
“I am trying to say this correctly.”
“That would be new.”
He ignored the insult.
“I want to take you to dinner.”
“We just had dinner.”
“A dinner where your mother does not confess fraud.”
“That narrows the restaurant options.”
Roman almost smiled.
Sadi looked away.
“I don't want money from you.”
“I didn't offer money.”
“I don't want you solving my life.”
“I know.”
“I don't want bodyguards following me forever.”
“They would be discreet.”
“Roman.”
He sighed.
“Understood.”
She turned toward him.
“And if I say no?”
“Then I stop asking.”
No wounded pride.
No threat.
No manipulation.
Sadi searched his face.
“Why me?”
Roman was silent.
She immediately became nervous.
“Do not say something terrifying.”
“I was going to say you make my house feel less empty.”
Sadi’s throat tightened.
Roman continued.
“You speak to me when other people wait for permission. You argue with me. You leave coffee on my desk when I forget to eat breakfast. You laugh at things that are not funny because you think silence is cruel.”
“I do not.”
“You laughed at Matteo’s joke about taxes.”
“He looked proud.”
“Exactly.”
Sadi’s eyes burned.
Roman stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Enough to ask.
She whispered, “This is still a terrible idea.”
“Yes.”
“I don't date employers.”
“You no longer work for me.”
“That was fast.”
“I am efficient.”
Sadi laughed.
Then she looked at his mouth.
Roman noticed.
His voice became quieter.
“Sadi.”
“Yes?”
“If I kiss you, it will not be part of the arrangement.”
She should have said no.
Instead she whispered, “Good.”
Roman kissed her gently.
No audience.
No table four.
No family watching.
No one to convince.
For the first time since this began, there was no pretending.
When they separated, Sadi’s hands were gripping the front of his shirt.
Roman looked down at them.
She released him immediately.
“Don't comment.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were thinking something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“That this is the first good decision I have made all week.”
Sadi’s phone rang.
She groaned.
Roman looked amused.
She checked the screen.
Unknown number.
Her stomach tightened.
She answered.
A man spoke.
“Ms. Haddad?”
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Marquez with the Financial Crimes Unit.”
Roman’s expression changed.
The detective continued.
“We need to speak with you about Westbridge Capital.”
Sadi glanced at Roman.
“Why?”
A pause.
“Because your name is not the only forged signature we found.”
The day after the first kiss, Sadi packed the uniforms she had left at the mansion.
She folded each black dress carefully.
Roman stood in the doorway of the staff room.
He did not enter.
“I can have those delivered.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you doing it yourself?”
“Because leaving a job is something I want to feel.”
He nodded.
Sadi lifted the first uniform.
“This dress paid my rent when I had eighty-three dollars in my bank account.”
Roman listened.
“This one was what I wore the week my car died.”
She held up another.
“This one has bleach on the hem because your guest bathroom has an unnecessarily dramatic amount of white marble.”
“It is Carrara.”
“It is floor.”
Roman wisely said nothing.
Sadi smiled.
Then she folded the last dress.
“I don't want you thinking I am ashamed of this work.”
“I don't.”
“Good.”
“I was ashamed of needing help when I was younger,” Roman said.
She looked up.
“That is different.”
“Not entirely.”
He leaned against the frame.
“My mother cleaned offices. When I started making money, I bought her a house and told her she never had to work again.”
“That sounds kind.”
“She was furious.”
Sadi laughed.
“Why?”
“She said I was treating her work like a stain I needed to remove.”
Sadi’s smile softened.
“What did you do?”
“Apologized badly.”
“Did she forgive you?”
“Eventually.”
Roman looked at the uniforms.
“Work is not shameful. Exploiting the person who does it is.”
Sadi held his gaze.
“That was almost enlightened.”
“Almost?”
“Do not become arrogant.”
“Too late.”
She zipped the garment bag.
Roman took one step back so she could pass.
No blocking the door.
No dramatic attempt to keep her.
Sadi noticed everything now.
At the top of the stairs, she looked back.
“Dinner Friday?”
Roman’s face changed.
“Yes.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I expected you to cancel.”
“I considered it.”
“And?”
“I decided I want to know who you are when I am not being paid to bring you coffee.”
Roman smiled.
“That may be disappointing.”
“We'll risk it.”
Sadi left the mansion carrying her own uniforms.
Not rescued.
Not promoted into someone else’s fantasy.
May you like
Simply finished with one chapter of her life.
And free to choose the next.
