HONOR ME

THREE

ANDRÉ

"Mr. and Mrs. Larsen."

Pamela McCarthy greeted my parents with a warm smile as they exchanged handshakes.

"It has been far too long."

"It certainly has," Mother replied.

I stood a step behind them, half-listening to the conversation until Father's voice cut through the chatter.

"André."

I stepped forward.

"Pamela, allow me to introduce my son."

Her smile widened.

"Of course."

She turned slightly and gestured to the young woman standing quietly beside her.

"And this," she said, "is my daughter, Skyler."

For the first time that evening, our eyes met.

She was...

...not what I'd expected.

Tall—almost reaching my shoulder in her heels—with long chestnut-brown hair cascading in soft waves over one shoulder. A few loose strands framed her face, drawing attention to a scattering of delicate freckles across the bridge of her nose.

They suited her.

Her emerald-green eyes were striking, bright enough to catch the ballroom lights, yet sharp enough to make it clear she wasn't intimidated by anyone in the room.

Least of all me.

She wore a simple emerald evening gown that complimented her eyes perfectly. Unlike the women who usually attended these events, she hadn't drowned herself in diamonds or designer labels.

She didn't need to.

There was an effortless elegance about her.

Natural.

Refreshing.

Beautiful.

For a brief second...

I forgot why I was there.

"Good evening, Mr. Larsen."

Her voice pulled me back to reality.

"It's an honour to finally meet you."

She smiled politely.

Too politely.

I returned a nod, studying her carefully.

*This is too easy.*

No woman willingly agreed to marry a complete stranger.

Especially not under a contract.

Something wasn't adding up.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss McCarthy-Smith."

"I've heard quite a lot about you."

"I wish I could say the same."

The corner of my mouth lifted.

"So, you haven't been keeping up with the news?"

"I avoid unnecessary entertainment."

I let out a quiet laugh.

"Ouch."

Behind us, Father and Pamela drifted into a conversation of their own while Mother excused herself to answer a phone call.

The ballroom faded into the background.

For a moment, it was just the two of us.

Neither of us spoke.

Instead, we simply stared.

She wasn't smiling anymore.

Her expression had hardened into a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Interesting.

Most women smiled at me.

Some blushed.

Others practically threw themselves into my arms.

Skyler McCarthy-Smith looked as though she'd rather throw me out of the nearest window.

I couldn't decide whether I was offended...

...or amused.

Mother returned a moment later, her face glowing with excitement.

"Alfonso is on his way with the contract."

"That's wonderful news," Pamela said happily.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Skyler stiffen.

The glare returned.

This time it was impossible to miss.

She slowly turned towards me.

"What exactly are you getting out of this?"

Straight to the point.

I slipped one hand into my trouser pocket.

"Nothing that concerns you."

She didn't even blink.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind answering a simple question."

I gestured for her to continue.

"How much is forty percent of ninety-six point three billion dollars, Mr. Larsen?"

Touché

A chuckle escaped before I could stop it.

"So you've been researching me."

"I prefer to know who I'm expected to marry."

"And?"

"And I don't marry complete strangers."

Fair enough.

I gave a small nod.

"I can respect that."

A mischievous thought crossed my mind.

I smiled.

"Alright then..."

I deliberately paused.

"...Mrs. Larsen."

Her glare intensified instantly.

Bingo.

"You wish."

"I thought that was the plan."

"It may be everyone else's plan."

She took one deliberate step closer.

"But it certainly isn't mine."

There it was again.

That fire.

She wasn't frightened of me.

She wasn't impressed by my surname.

And she definitely wasn't interested in my bank account.

For reasons I couldn't explain...

I found that incredibly attractive.

Before either of us could continue, Pamela's voice interrupted.

"Skyler, dear."

She tore her eyes away from mine, though not before sending one final glare in my direction.

"Yes, Mum?"

Pamela smiled as though she were announcing wonderful news.

"Since you'll be moving into André's house in two days, I'd like you to start packing your things."

Skyler froze.

Her eyes widened.

"...Excuse me?"

The colour slowly drained from her face.

Skyler's voice barely rose above a whisper.

"...Mum?"

Pamela looked at her as though she'd said something perfectly ordinary.

"You never told me I was moving in."

"I was going to."

"When?"

Pamela smiled. "Now."

Skyler let out a short, humourless laugh.

"You were going to tell me in front of everyone?"

"It seemed like the appropriate time."

"No, Mum. The appropriate time would've been before announcing my engagement to the entire country."

The ballroom suddenly felt much quieter.

Guests continued mingling around us, oblivious to the conversation taking place in our corner of the room.

Pamela's smile faded.

"Lower your voice, Skyler."

"I don't care who's listening."

"You should."

"I've spent the entire day finding out things about my own life from everyone except my own mother.”

“Every woman moves into her husband’s home after marriage,” Mother said calmly. “Refusing to do so will only damage our reputation.”

I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing.

“Does that mean I’ll be trapped with him for the rest of my life?” I asked.

Her expression softened, and she pulled me into a hug, gently patting my back as if I were still a child who needed comforting.

“Your stubborn father refuses to take care of us,” she whispered. “The Pamela McCarthy name cannot fall apart like this, Skyler. The Larsens are willing to support us financially.”

I immediately pulled away from her embrace, my disgust impossible to hide.

“Mom, we are not broke.”

Her eyes hardened.

“WE ARE BROKE, SKYLER.”

The sharpness in her voice echoed through the room.

“Three hundred and ninety-five million dollars does not make us broke.”

But money had changed her. Somehow, no amount was ever enough anymore. She had become so obsessed with maintaining our image that she could no longer see what truly mattered.

“You are the reason your marriage failed,” I said quietly. “Dad never wanted to leave. I’ve told you before—you pushed him away with your own behavior.”

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted us.

“Miss Pamela.”

We both turned to see Christine Larsen—André’s mother—standing at the doorway.

“Alfonso has arrived with the papers,” she announced.

Mother’s expression changed instantly. The anger disappeared, replaced by the perfect smile she had mastered for the world.

She turned back to me, lowering her voice.

“Never speak to me like that again. Now fix your expression and go sign those damn papers.”

The flashes from the cameras surrounding us were the only reason Pamela McCarthy never truly lost control in public. The world saw a graceful, powerful woman. They never saw the person hidden behind the carefully painted image.

“Mother knows best,” she whispered.

Then she walked ahead, taking control of the room as she always did.

With a mixture of shame, anger, and helplessness burning inside me, I followed.

“Pamela, Skyler, meet Alfonso. He is the lawyer handling your contract marriage. And before you ask—he has already signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

My eyes moved toward the man standing across from us. He was tall and lanky, with a calm expression that suggested he had handled situations far more complicated than ours.

“Shall we get down to business?” Alfonso said with a polite smile, gesturing toward the room behind him.

Before I could respond, André leaned closer, a smug grin playing on his lips.

“Are you ready to become my wife?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Not even remotely.”

I walked ahead, increasing my pace just to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction.

Once we were seated, Alfonso placed a thick file on the table. He opened it carefully, revealing the contract that had already been prepared.

“Please sign here.”

He tapped a specific section of the document before sliding a pen toward me.

I stared at the papers.

“Shouldn’t I read it first?”

Alfonso raised an eyebrow. “Do you not trust me?”

But that wasn’t the person I had doubts about.

My eyes shifted toward André.

I let out a small laugh and picked up the contract.

“Miss McCarthy, this process is quite straightforward. We don’t necessarily need to—”

“Please allow me to read the contract,” I interrupted.

I caught the look on Mother’s face from the corner of my eye. Pamela was clearly irritated, and somehow, that only made my mood better.

Alfonso sighed softly.

“Alright, ma’am.”

I opened the first page, scanning through the terms carefully.

“Then I should read mine too,” André said.

He picked up the second copy and began going through it.

For once, neither of us spoke.

I had barely made it through four lines before I noticed something that needed to be addressed. I lifted my gaze toward André.

He was still reading, but his expression had changed.

Interesting.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who found something questionable.

I watched him for another moment before closing the file.

“Actually, I think everyone should step out for a moment while we discuss this.”

The room immediately went silent.

Alfonso and Mother exchanged a quick glance.

“Skyler—”

“I think that would be a good idea,” André interrupted.

His agreement surprised me.

And judging by the look on Mother’s face, it surprised her too.