Page 51 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

“Yeah, you deserve all this and more, sis,” Declan adds.

I shift my gaze to him and Armani. She stands tall beside him, her usual composed demeanor softened by a genuine smile.

“Hi,” I say to them, my grin widening as I hug them. It feels so good to have them here with me.

Before I can say anything more, Callum steps forward, camera in hand. “Let’s get a group photo,” he suggests, motioning for us to gather together.

We huddle close, arms around each other as Callum takes a photo.

Just as we’re starting to pull apart, Evelyn strides into the gallery, her energy instantly lighting up the room.

I walk straight up and pull her into a tight hug.

“Look at your painting,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s exactly where it should be.”

“Thanks. But I want to show you something.” Taking her by the hand, we weave through the crowd until we stop in front of her painting. Evelyn’s eyes widen. She freezes for a moment before letting out an ear-piercing screech.

“No fucking way!” she squeals, before realizing we’re inside.

Laughing, I watch her expression shift from shock to pure joy. “This is so fucking cool,” she says, practically bouncing on her toes. “I need a photo. I’m tagging the hospital. They have to see this.”

I smile, loving her passion and hustle. If that hospital doesn’t take her after this, I’ll personally make sure they regret it. “Here, give me your phone,” I say, holding out my hand.

She hands it over, and I snap a few shots of her posing confidently next to her painting. Her pride is written all over her face. Once I give her the phone back, she immediately uploads one of the photos, tagging the hospital like it’s her mission.

As she finishes, she tucks her phone away and turns to me with a softer, more thoughtful expression. “So…” Her voice is quieter now. “How have you been?”

“Goo—” A sudden tapping sound draws my attention.

I turn toward the front of the room, where the soft hum of conversation quiets.

Oliver stands at the center of the gallery with a microphone in hand, his tall frame commanding the room.

I’m surprised to see him there. He didn’t tell me he was doing a speech.

“Excuse me,” he begins, his deep, steady voice filling the space effortlessly.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. This event isn’t just special for me, it’s life-changing for these students.

Their talent has left me speechless, and I wanted to create a space that honors their work and gives it the attention it deserves. ”

Around us, guests stand scattered around the room, wine glasses in hand, eyes trained on the makeshift stage.

A few teachers from the art school linger near the back, nodding along.

Some donors and family members are gathered closer to the front, dressed elegantly, the clink of ice in their glasses the only occasional interruption.

And then there are the students, the real stars of the night, clustered together with hopeful eyes. Their artwork lines the walls behind him, bold and beautiful. Each piece is a reflection of something deeply personal, now on display for everyone to see.

I glance at one girl in a green wrap dress near the corner, her eyes glassy with disbelief. Like she still can’t quite believe she belongs here. And maybe that’s the magic of it… Tonight, we all do.

“I hope you’ll take the time to truly experience each piece.

Not just glance at them, but feel them. And please, share their work.

Take photos, talk about what you see tonight.

Some of these students might want to stay anonymous, but that would be a shame.

Art is meant to connect, to evoke emotion, and they deserve to know the impact they’re having.

But they can’t unless we help spread the word. ”

A wave of soft murmurs flows through the crowd. His voice shifts, growing softer as his gaze locks onto mine. My heart swells from his kind words.

“I also want to thank the people who make everything in my life possible. My parents, my brothers, my Grams... and my wife.”

The room goes silent for a beat, then erupts into cheers and applause so loud it feels like the walls might shake. My heart skips. His eyes are still on me, and I can see the depth of his emotion, raw and unguarded. “Can you please join me up here?”

I glance around, nerves fluttering in my chest. But when I meet his gaze again, he gives me a small nod, a silent reassurance.

My legs feel shaky, but I walk up the steps, taking my time.

When I’m close enough, Oliver reaches out.

I grab his hand, steadying myself in his grip. He pulls me in for a kiss.

I can hear Evelyn’s familiar holler cutting through the noise. It makes me laugh.

The cheers get louder, but all I feel is the tender warmth of his lips.

He pulls back slightly before he speaks into the mic. “There’s something I want to redo,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Confused, I tilt my head. “Redo?”

“I want to renew our vows. This time, in front of everyone we love.”

The room erupts again, cheers and clapping echoing through the space. My heart feels like it might burst.

“The first time, it was just us,” he says softly, turning fully to face me. “But I want the people who support us to witness this. To witness us.”

Oliver squeezes my hand and begins his vows. Every word is a promise, a reminder of the life we’re building together. By the time he finishes, I’m barely holding it together.

He hands me the mic and a piece of paper—my vows from Vegas. I glance down at the familiar words and take a deep breath, reading each one aloud. I tremble, but I push through, speaking from the heart.

Oliver pulls me into another kiss, and the crowd roars.

As we stand there, wrapped in each other and surrounded by the people who mean the most, I know without a doubt that this is forever love.