I Came Back And They All Chose Her Over Me Chapter 08

I Came Back And They All Chose Her Over Me Chapter 08

The day before we made it official at City Hall, Lucien took me to the Westlake Promenade.

It was one of the few places in New York that did not feel entirely swallowed by old-money noise. When the

wind moved across the water, even my shoulders seemed to loosen a little.

He wore a black trench coat and walked beside me. Every now and then, he would lower his head and ask me

how to pronounce some word or another, serious enough to look as if he were preparing for an exam.

“Mr. Beaumont.” I turned my head toward him. “Your English is already this good. Why are you still practicing?”

“Because it’s not good enough.”

“What part isn’t good enough?”

He thought for a moment, then answered with complete seriousness. “I want to be able to talk you down faster when you’re angry.”

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I laughed before I could stop myself.

We walked slowly along the lake until we reached a small vendor booth selling handmade jewelry. Lucien

suddenly stopped and bought a simple silver bracelet.

The vendor asked if he wanted the small charm engraved.

Lucien turned to me. “Do you?”

“With what?”

He looked at me, the corner of his mouth curving slightly.

“Mrs. Beaumont.”

My ears warmed at once, and I turned away. “That’s so corny.”

He followed me and placed the bracelet in my hand, his tone still perfectly serious. “Then I’ll try again.”

I looked back.

He lowered his head and met my eyes, his English clear and deliberate.

“Seraphina Ashbourne, will you come home with me?”

The wind over the lake was soft.

As I looked at him, I suddenly remembered so many things from before.

I remembered being called the untouchable dream girl. I remembered how they had placed me high above them, believing I would always be beautiful, always proud, and always there.

But a dream girl, in the end, was only beautiful from a distance. The person who truly came to me would not

ask me to stay some distant moon in the sky.

He would take my hand and ask whether I wanted to go home with him.

I closed my fingers around the red cord and nodded with a smile.

“Yes.”

The next day, my parents personally saw us off before we left for City Hall.

As the car drove out of the Ashbourne estate, I noticed an old wooden box beside the gatehouse. The staff

said someone had delivered it early that morning without leaving a name.

I opened it and looked inside. There were Polaroids the five of us had taken years ago, the old key to the

rooftop terrace at The Ninth House, and a note written in messy handwriting.

[Seraphina Ashbourne was always the hardest to coax.]

I stared at that line for two seconds, then closed the box and handed it to the house manager.

“Please put it away.”

Lucien watched me from the side. “You don’t want it?”

“It’s not that I don’t want it.” I thought for a moment, then said softly, “I just don’t need to carry it with

me anymore.

There weren’t many people waiting outside City Hall.

The photos, signatures, and paperwork all went so smoothly that it felt almost unreal. When the last step was done, the clerk smiled and handed us our marriage certificate.

“Congratulations.”

Lucien looked down at it for two seconds, then turned to me and said in English that was now nearly fluent,

“Mrs. Beaumont, happy first day of marriage, Mrs. Beaumont.”

I could not hold back my smile. I lifted the certificate in my hand and gave it a small wave.

“Right back at you, Mr. Beaumont.”

We had just walked down the steps when Maren called.

She had probably been waiting by the phone at the exact time. Her excitement came through even though

she was trying to keep her voice down,

“Ms. Ashbourne, should we release the marriage announcement now, according to the original plan?”

My steps paused.

Lucien stood beside me and opened the car door, but he did not rush me. He only waited quietly for me to

answer.

“Post it.” I looked at the certificate in my hand, my voice calm. “Keep the wording simple. One sentence is

enough.”

“What should it say?”

[Seraphina Ashbourne and Lucien Beaumont were married today. Thank you for your kind wishes.]

Maren agreed at once, then remembered something else. “Also, the run-of-show for next quarter’s Laurel

Scholars Program has been revised. I restored your name on the opening page, along with your grandmother’s original notes.”

I lowered my eyes and gave a soft hum.

“Don’t let anyone change it again.”

Less than five minutes after the call ended, the official accounts of Ashbourne Group and the Beaumont

family office posted the announcement almost at the same time.

Blythe flooded our small group chat with fireworks emojis.

Mrs. Beaumont sent a string of congratulations in the family chat, followed by a photo of the champagne

she had ordered for dinner. Even Mr. Beaumont, who rarely replied to anything, wrote: [Come home for dinner tonight.]

My phone buzzed twice more.

This time, the old group chat that had not lit up in years.

I only glanced down at it. Without opening the messages, I turned my phone facedown.

The four names lined up together in the notification bar, like an old habit that had once appeared in every

single day of my life.

For a moment, I remembered one morning from our school days, when they had taken turns honking

outside the Ashbourne estate, insisting that I hurry up.

The sun had been just as bright that day, flashing against the windshield until it

open.

But those voices only passed through my mind for a moment before they faded.

When we walked out of City Hall, the New York sunlight was warm and clear.

Lucien opened the car door for me, one hand shielding the top of my head.

Before getting in, I turned back and looked at the city behind me.

Was hard to keep my eyes

People came and went outside the clerk’s office, and a thin layer of spring light rested on the steps.

Lucien blocked a gust of wind for me, his fingertips settling naturally over the back of my hand, warm and

steady.

At that moment, I stopped thinking of anyone else.

The glaring lights of The Ninth House, the looks of judgment that had fallen on me, the misunderstandings that still felt absurd whenever I remembered them late at night, all seemed to be left outside when the car

door closed.

I looked down at the marriage certificate in my hand, then at Lucien as he got into the car. He leaned over to

smooth the hem of my dress for me, moving so naturally it felt as if he had done it countless times before.

The sight made my lips curve, and I bent down to sit inside.

Lucien leaned over and fastened my seat belt. The buckle clicked into place, crisp and clean, like like some

old chapter being locked outside for good.

The car door closed softly, and New York began to recede outside the window.

This time, I was no longer the dream girl someone kept enshrined in an old memory.

I was simply moving forward.

And someone was beside me the whole way.