The Deception

Chapter2 The Marriage

Cathrina’s POV

As I stood before the mirror, adjusting the delicate lace and shimmering sequins of my wedding gown, a wave of unease washed over me. It felt as though I was stepping into a role I had never auditioned for, each fold of fabric a reminder of the weight of expectations.

“You look stunning! Ethan is truly a lucky man,” Sylvia said, attempting to infuse some lightness into the air. I managed a smile, but it felt fragile, cracking under the pressure of a whirlwind of emotions. My heart was heavy, as if my destiny had shifted overnight, and I fought to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from my watery eyes.

“Thanks, bestie,” I whispered, my voice a mere tremor.

“Hey, don’t do that! You’ll ruin your makeup. Just focus on smiling; everything will be alright, I promise,” she reassured me, her warmth enveloping me as I rested my head on her shoulder.

Suddenly, a loud clatter interrupted our moment—a thudding bass punctuated by the DJ setting up his equipment outside, filling the air with a sense of anticipation that only heightened my anxiety.

Then my mother entered the room, her gaze filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow, tears pooling in her eyes. “The guests have arrived, darling,” she announced, her voice trembling slightly, and in that moment, I felt my heart race at the thought of what was to come.

In that poignant moment, it was time for me to walk down the aisle, hand in hand with my father, toward the man I was about to marry. As I progressed, I stole glances at the faces in the crowd, keenly aware of their unspoken thoughts reflected in their expressions. A lump formed in my throat as anxiety washed over me; the weight of their scrutiny was palpable. When I finally reached the altar, we exchanged our vows, and a surreal sense enveloped me. It felt as though my parents were witnessing me being traded like a commodity, bound by financial obligations. As the eldest daughter, the burden of tradition fell squarely on my shoulders.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions racing through my mind, I suddenly heard the pastor's voice pierce the air: “It is time to kiss your bride.” My eyes widened in disbelief, and as we locked gazes, it felt as if time stood still; panic surged within me. He stepped closer, noticing my hesitance, and as his lips met mine, I shut my eyes, surrendering to the moment. The kiss was gentle and tender, an unexpected spark that ignited an exhilarating feeling within me. It was by far the most beautiful kiss I had ever experienced. When we finally pulled away, our eyes meeting again, the crowd erupted into applause, and together we walked toward the car, a new chapter unfolding before us.

A moment of silence enveloped us as the driver maneuvered the car through the streets on our way home. Breaking the tension, he cleared his throat and asked, “How are you feeling?” I responded with a forced smile, “I’m feeling great.” It was a lie, of course. Inside, I was a whirlwind of emotions about getting married at the age of 24 and under pressure. Just when I thought the conversation might die down, Ethan’s voice cut through the air, low and husky. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mrs. Cath,” he said, and my heart sank at the formality. “This is a business arrangement. Don’t expect any… favors or sentimentality from me.” Each word echoed, hardening my heart, but I masked my inner turmoil with a smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it, As we pulled up to his house, the opulent mansion loomed before me, its grandeur starkly contrasting with the emptiness I felt inside. Stepping out of the car and into my new life with Ethan—a tall, handsome man with striking green eyes and neatly styled hair—was surreal. He turned to me and said, “Just give him your details; he’ll book the flights for our honeymoon. Tell him the country you’d love to visit the most.” I nodded, feeling like I was on top of the world. This wasn’t just a staged wedding; I was about to embark on a free honeymoon to any destination of my choice. A smile crept across my face as waves of happiness washed over me.

Ethan then led me straight to my room, and what I saw took my breath away. The floor was covered in rose petals, while a red, seductive lingerie set lay waiting on my bed. A bottle of champagne sat chilling nearby, and the ambiance was perfect. As the door clicked shut behind me, I felt a flutter in my heart, but exhaustion quickly settled in. I made my way to the bathroom to get undressed, only to find Ethan rinsing his hands.

Curiosity bubbled up inside me as I wondered why he was using my bathroom. As he turned to face me, I noticed a spot of blood on the corner of his white sleeve. Great, he’s not just a billionaire; he might also be a murderer. My throat went dry as I swallowed hard.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“No, you didn’t,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Great,” he said, visibly relieved. “What’s that on your shirt?”

“It’s nothing. Have your bath, and I’ll be back. I have some things to take care of,” he said, striding out of the bathroom with an air of arrogance. I brushed off his antics and decided to stay in my room for dinner, feeling a bit too lazy to venture downstairs. A bottle of champagne accompanied my meal, and soon the day’s exhaustion took over, lulling me to sleep. A while later, an overpowering whiff of smoke invaded my senses. Peering out from my room, I spotted Mr. Ethan lounging on the veranda, a joint in hand, clouds of smoke swirling around him. To my surprise, he didn’t attempt to drag me into anything more than a casual conversation.

As I approached, he turned to me, smoke curling from his lips. “Thought you were asleep,” he said, his voice deep and resonant.

“Yeah, well, you woke me.”

“I did? My bad.”

“It’s fine. I’m just bored. What time is it?”

“It’s 2 AM, charm. You should be asleep.”

“And you?” I shot back with a playful smirk.

“I’m a man,” he replied, a teasing smile dancing on his lips as our gazes locked. The air was electric, and I felt my heart race as I tried to steer the conversation. “Do you know Sylvia?” I asked, my curiosity bubbling.

His expression shifted, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Which one?”

“Sylvia Hathway.” I held his gaze, intrigued by how his demeanor changed.

“Yeah, I know her. She’s my ex—total nightmare,” he replied, the disdain apparent in his tone.

“Well, she’s my best friend, so watch it,” I shot back, a smile breaking my serious facade.

“Can we skip her tonight? It’s our wedding night, after all. Let’s do something fun, don’t you think?” His sarcasm added a layer of challenge.

“This is a fake wedding, just in case you forgot, and I’m a virgin.” The words dropped like a bomb, and I could see the shock on his face as disbelief danced in his eyes.

“Can I find out?” he asked, stepping closer, his intoxicating cologne enveloping me. He pulled me in, his hand gripping my waist as he tilted my face toward his, capturing my lips in a kiss. It was like silk—smooth, warm, electric. A soft moan escaped me, unexpected pleasure washing over me.

“You like that?” he murmured, sensing my response. But as overwhelming as it was, I pushed him away, still hesitant.

“Goodnight,” I said breathlessly.

He bit his lip, a teasing smirk playing on his face, as if I had just made him want more. “Goodnight, charm.”