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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T he air outside Town Hall was crisp and sharp. The snow from last week's storm still stubbornly clung to the edges of the sidewalks. Paul adjusted the collar of his jacket and took a long breath, letting the cold fill his lungs.

Today was the day. His wedding day.

It still didn’t feel entirely real—that he was about to marry Birdy Chou. That the fierce, brilliant woman who had once been a faceless voice across a chat window was about to become his wife.

He glanced to his left, where Noah, Jed, and Teddy fell into an easy formation beside him. All four men had married or were currently engaged to Chou women. All four men were grinning like idiots.

“You’re about to join the club,” Jed said, slapping him on the back with enough force to make him stumble.

With his movie-star jawline and effortless charm, Jed looked like he was about to step onto a soundstage rather than into a pew.

No surprise for a man who made his name as a celebrity competition chef.

“Best club there is,” Noah added, long, trim fingers adjusting his tie like he was disarming a bomb instead of preparing for a wedding.

The town’s grinning golden boy mayor rocked on his heels with his usual twinkle-eyed swagger, hands shoved in his pockets like he was seconds from launching into a campaign speech—or a stand-up set. “If you think you’re in charge now, wait until after the vows.”

They all laughed, the sound loud and familiar against the frozen air.

Paul smiled, feeling a deep, unexpected camaraderie.

Not just because he was marrying into the Chou family—but because all of them were soldiers.

Men who understood loyalty, duty, and the fierce, unbreakable bonds of love and brotherhood.

He thought back to that night at the state office.

Sitting behind a blinking computer screen.

Answering a chat message from a woman in a panic, who didn’t even know she was about to change his life.

If he hadn’t been there—hadn’t answered—he might never have gotten close enough to Birdy to even try to win her heart.

He was grateful for every twist of fate that had led him here. To her. And today, he was going to put a ring on her finger.

Fish came outside just then. The man ducked under the door frame and straightened once over the threshold. His beard was slightly dusted with flour, like he’d stepped out of a lumberjack calendar and into a bakery. “They're ready for you.”

One by one, the men turned to file into the building.

Paul would have been the last to go in, if he hadn't heard someone call his name from across the street. He turned, heart still soaring from his future being seconds away from starting — and immediately felt it clench. Zeke’s mother stood there, wrapped tightly in an expensive-looking coat, her mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

“Go on ahead,” he said to the guys. “I’ll be right behind you.”

They didn’t argue, just gave him nods of understanding and disappeared into the town hall. Paul walked toward the sidewalk, his boots crunching over salted gravel, every muscle in his body locking down tight.

Zeke’s mom didn’t waste time. “I know what you’re doing,” she hissed. “You and that lawyer. Marrying to take my grandbaby away.”

Paul kept his face neutral. “You told me yourself the baby wasn’t Zeke’s. Are you amending that statement now?”

Her lips pursed tighter, bloodless. “I will not be made a fool of,” she snapped. “If that child’s got my blood, I have a right to see her raised properly.”

“It’s too late for that,” Paul said calmly. “We've checked everything with the court. The marriage will be legal. The guardianship of Beverly and her baby will be as well.”

“You think you’ve won?”

Paul said nothing.

“I have friends at the state office,” she said, voice sly now. “Friends who tell me your little lawyer fiancée has a few... loose threads. Some paperwork problems with her business registration.”

Birdy's late filing? The form that almost jeopardized her entire practice? Paul had had that taken care of. Sure, he'd pulled some strings, but nothing illegal. People did it all the time in the office.

Zeke’s mother smiled thinly, seeing the hesitation flash across his face.

“It would be a shame,” she said, voice oily, “if someone made trouble for Ms. Chou. If someone filed a few complaints. Made things... messy.”

The woman was threatening Birdy. Threatening the life Birdy had built with her bare hands. Threatening the thing that made her light up in this world.

Paul stood a little taller, letting the full weight of his presence settle over the conversation like a shield. His voice was calm, controlled—barely. “We can discuss supervised visits next week. Because the child deserves to know her roots, if it's safe.”

Zeke’s mother narrowed her eyes. “No, that’s not what we’re going to do.

” Her voice was venomous, sugarcoated in civility.

“You're going to call off the guardianship.

I'm going to get my grandbaby. And that loose little floozie will stay away from my son and his daughter. Otherwise, I'll end Ms. Chou’s business and ruin your career.”

The words hit him like a slap. His pulse stuttered, then roared to life. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t move—couldn’t think—only feel the sucker punch of hearing Birdy’s name used like a weapon. A slur thrown at Beverly. A baby referred to like a possession.

Shock turned to rage. Hot. Blinding. His hands fisted at his sides, his breath coming faster, shorter, his throat tight. He wanted to shout, to shake the woman, to demand what kind of monster used a child—used threats—as leverage.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Because anger wouldn’t protect anyone.

The urge to defend Birdy surged through him, fierce and instinctual. He could almost see her in his mind—head high, jaw set, eyes flashing with pride and fire. She’d face this down like she did everything else: with logic and law and that ferocious heart of hers.

God, he loved her. He was in love with her. But this moment wasn’t about him. Not even about Birdy—not really. It was about the baby.

That tiny, helpless girl who had clutched his lanyard and hiccup-laughed like she didn’t know the world could be cruel. The child who had burrowed against his chest and fallen asleep as if she already trusted him to keep her safe.

He had promised, silently, the moment he’d held her—he would protect her. No matter what. Even if it meant swallowing the hurt, burying his pride, and letting this woman believe she’d won.