Chapter 80

Wolfe's POV. I stared at myself in the mirror, the black three-piece suit fitting like a second skin, courtesy of Pete Hilburn, the quiet genius who had been my personal stylist for years. Pete was the kind of guy who let his work do the talking, and damn, did his work speak volumes. The man had a gift—a borderline magical ability to make me look like I had my shit together, even when my mind was spinning like a damn merry-go-round. This was it. This was really happening. The thought echoed in my head like a mantra, a mix of disbelief and excitement. I was getting married. Me. The guy who, as a teenager, thought love was just some overrated emotion that only existed in movies. Yet here I was, about to tie the knot with the love of my life. It felt surreal, like I was in someone else's life for a moment. I looked like the man everyone expected me to be today—the billionaire groom about to marry the love of his life in a wedding so grand it would make the tabloids lose their minds. A