Chapter 7 - The Signature That Was Mine
We married three months later.
Same cathedral.
Different wedding.
Forty-eight guests instead of two hundred.
No political consultants.
No men pretending not to carry weapons.
Tommy still checked every entrance.
Some habits apparently survived romance.
My father attended under supervised release.
He stood outside the bridal room before the ceremony.
“Can I come in?”
I opened the door.
He looked at me in my wedding dress.
His eyes filled.
“You look like your mother.”
“Dad.”
“I know. No emotional speeches.”
“Good.”
He handed me an envelope.
I stared at it.
“Another contract?”
He winced.
“I deserved that.”
Inside was a handwritten letter.
No legal language.
No signatures.
Just an apology.
I folded it.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he turned to leave.
“Dad.”
He stopped.
I held out my arm.
“You can walk me halfway.”
His eyes widened.
“Halfway?”
“The rest I walk myself.”
He smiled.
“Fair enough.”
The cathedral doors opened.
We walked together.
Halfway down the aisle, my father stopped.
He kissed my cheek.
Then stepped aside.
I continued alone.
Aiden waited at the altar.
No red mark on his cheek this time.
When I reached him, he whispered:
“Any last-minute objections?”
“Several.”
The priest looked concerned.
Aiden smiled.
“Excellent.”
During the vows, the priest asked the question that mattered most.
“Claire Bennett, do you enter this marriage freely and willingly?”
Aiden didn’t look at the priest.
He looked at me.
Waiting.
No assumptions.
No contracts.
No father answering for me.
Just my choice.
“I do.”
Later, at the reception, Tommy approached carrying a folder.
I groaned.
“No.”
Aiden frowned.
“What?”
“No paperwork today.”
Tommy smiled.
“This one you’ll like.”
He opened it.
Inside were the finalized ownership documents for Bennett Shipping.
My name appeared at the top.
CLAIRE BENNETT.
Chief Executive Officer.
Majority Shareholder.
I stared at Aiden.
“You did this?”
“No.”
Tommy pointed toward my father.
Richard stood across the room.
He lifted his glass.
I walked toward him.
“You transferred the remaining shares?”
“They were always supposed to be yours.”
I looked at the signature line.
Blank.
My father handed me a pen.
“Only if you want them.”
That nearly broke me.
Not because of the money.
Because he finally understood.
I signed.
My signature.
My decision.
My life.
Aiden came beside me.
My father looked at him.
“Take care of her.”
Aiden shook his head.
“No.”
Richard blinked.
Aiden slipped his hand into mine.
“She takes care of herself.”
Then he looked at me.
“I’m just lucky enough to stand beside her.”
I smiled.
“Better answer.”
The music started.
Aiden held out his hand.
“Dance?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
I touched his left cheek.
“Are you going to behave?”
Tommy coughed to hide a laugh.
Aiden glanced at him.
“Careful, Walsh.”
Then he looked back at me.
“I learned my lesson.”
“What lesson?”
Aiden leaned closer.
“Always verify the signature.”
I laughed.
Six months earlier, my hand across his face had stopped a wedding built on a lie.
Now that same hand rested in his as we walked onto the dance floor.
No debt.
No bargain.
No forged consent.
And when the cathedral bells rang over Chicago that night, nobody had traded a daughter.
Nobody had purchased a bride.
A woman had simply been asked a question.
May you like
And for the first time—
the answer was entirely hers.
