Page 135 of Devil's Tulip

“Open it,” he says softly, so I do.

I tip it over, letting the coins spill into my palm, but there’s a whole lot, and some hit the floor. Then something heavier plops into my hand—a huge ring. I gasp, and the jar slips from my hand. But Michael is quick, catching it before it hits the floor.

“What is this?” I ask, studying the ring that looks so similar to my tattoo, except the stone is two intertwined pink tulips. It’s… beautiful.

“Will you marry me?” Michael asks, and I gasp again when I look at him—he’s on one knee, right there on the porch. I quickly glance around the quiet street, hoping there’s no nosy neighbor peeking out a window.

“What are you doing? We’re married already.” I grab his arm and try to pull him up, but he resists.

“For real this time, Gianna. Two people marrying each other because they’re in love, and not for any other reason.”

My answer—yes, yes, a thousand times yes—crowds the back of my throat, desperate to break free, but I hesitate. He smiles sadly, taking my silence as a no, and gets to his feet. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out some sort of black and gold card and hands it to me.

It’s a wedding invitation.Ourwedding invitation. Slated for next week. I frown as I study it. How long has he been carrying this around?

“I hope you’ll be able to make it.”

Then he takes a step back. Then another.

I watch him dazedly as he walks towards the black car parked at the end of the street. He gets in, but he doesn’t start the engine, nor does he drive off.

He just sits there.

Staring. Waiting.

I stand frozen on the porch for what feels like an eternity before finally turning back inside, locking the door behind me.

42

GIANNA

I take a deep breath and thank the driver as I ease my swollen body out of the cab, one protective hand cradling my belly. The twins shift restlessly inside me, as if sensing the gravity of this moment, this choice. My eyes flick to the invitation in my hand, making sure I’m at the right place.

The address is correct, but I hesitate, glancing around.

The venue before me is breathtaking—an enormous, stunning garden—but it’s also eerily quiet.

I’m not second-guessing myself. I love Michael, and I’m ready to marry him again—properly this time. But this quiet… it makes me nervous.

A woman walks up to me with a warm smile. “Mrs. Hart? We’re waiting for you inside.”

My stomach clenches. How did she recognize me?

The question flashes through my mind even as I know the answer—Michael would have made sure everyone involved could identify his precious runaway wife.

I swallow down my nerves and follow her inside. She leads me past rows of beautiful flowers towards a big, arched glassbuilding, its windows blacked out to conceal whatever waits within.

The woman stops at the double doors and gestures. “You may go in, ma’am.”

I murmur a soft thank you and push the door open, stepping inside into… another world entirely—and I’m instantly mind-blown.

The glass ceiling must have a wallpaper or some kind of fancy tech-y illusion because instead of showing the bright day outside, it displays the infinite expanse of a midnight sky, complete with soft, twinkling stars.

Beneath this fabricated cosmos are huge, sparkling tree canopies crafted from bright flowers intertwined with cheerful lights. The isle stretches before me adorned with more of the lights, framed by stunning floral archways and lush greenery.

The soft, romantic lighting and elegant florals weave together to create an atmosphere so enchanting it feels like a dream.

If I ever allowed myself to imagine a magical wedding—which I never did, having learned early that dreams were dangerous luxuries—this would surpass even those forbidden fantasies.

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