Three weeks later, the Moretti estate had become completely unrecognizable.
Flowers covered almost every surface.
Designers moved through the halls carrying fabric samples, seating charts, invitation boxes, and enough paperwork to organize a small government.
The kitchen had become a battlefield.
The living room had become a planning headquarters.
And Victor had somehow appointed himself head of entertainment.
Nobody had given him the position.
He simply announced it.
"I'm telling you," he said, standing in the middle of the room with a clipboard, "the wedding needs fireworks."
Elena looked up from her laptop.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you said fireworks yesterday."
"And you rejected them yesterday."
"Correct."
"So I thought maybe you'd changed."
"I haven't."
Victor sighed.
"You're very difficult."
Elena smiled.
"And yet you married me."
"Best decision of my life."
That immediately softened her expression.
Victor noticed.
He smiled.
"See?"
"Don't push it."
