The Mistaken Bride

Marriage of Convenience

Julia's point of view

A few days after, the wedding was my worst nightmare ever. Winston didn't force me into marrying him, but he turned me into his personal savant, someone he could control.

Every day, I was expected to attend business events, smile for the cameras, and stand beside him like a spouse. Winston would barely speak to me outside those moments. He kept his distance from the house, only coming near when there was a formal event or a public appearance to make.

I felt more like a ghost than a wife. Every time I tried to talk to him about anything personal—anything that mattered—he brushed me off. It was clear he didn’t want to get to know me. He didn’t even want me to be near him unless we were outside.

At night, I couldn't sleep, I was just staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything I had given up. For him. For Maya’s future. But mostly, for survival.

One afternoon, I had to go to an event at Johnson Enterprises. It was a gathering, an extravaganza for the rich and powerful, and I was expected to be there at Winston's side, wearing a smile I didn’t feel.

He barely even acknowledged me during the whole evening. We arrived in silence, and he was off talking to investors and colleagues, shaking hands, making deals. I was just there, in the background, a well-dressed figure by his side, nothing more than an accessory.

He didn’t introduce me to anyone, didn’t even ask if I was comfortable. I felt small in that massive ballroom, surrounded by people who had never cared about me, and who probably never would.

When Winston finally returned to my side, he barely glanced at me. “I need to go handle something.” Stay here and look… presentable,” he said, his voice cold and dismissive.

That was the moment I realized. This wasn’t a marriage. It was a business deal, a contract. I was just a face in his world of power and control.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on that. Maya needed me. I had pretended to think of the event, just like I always did—smiling through the pain.

Later that night, when we returned home, the silence between us had thickened. Winston didn’t even look at me as we entered the house.

“Do you need anything?” I asked, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be.

“No,” he replied, walking out. “I’ve got work to do.”

The harsh reality of it stung. He didn’t need me for anything. Not emotionally. Not physically. It was nothing more than a business transaction.

The next day, Winston left for work without saying a word to me. I was left behind, living in a house that felt emptier by the hour. I took care of everything at home, but it was clear Winston wasn’t interested in being a part of it. He didn’t even acknowledge when I’d make an effort to cook him a meal or make his favorite coffee.

I was exhausted. The bonding of pretending to be something I wasn’t, and also pretending this marriage was real—was beginning to wear me down.

One afternoon, I was cleaning up after a meeting Winston had arranged in the boardroom. He was in the office, working as usual. I had barely set down the coffee mug I was holding when the door to the office opened, and Winston stepped out.

His face was set in a tight, emotionless expression. He had just signed another deal. I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. But there is something about him that I have yet to find out.

“You’re still here?” he said, with a low tone. “I thought you’d be out shopping or something.” You’ve got nothing better to do.

The words hit me harder than I expected. My hands clenched at my sides. He was treating me like a slave again, even worse than before.

“I’m doing my best,” I said, with a calm voice. “But I’m not here just to be your assistant, Winston.” I’m your wife.”

The words came out of my mouth more quickly than I thought they would, but I couldn’t help it. The isolation, the Winston—it was all too much.

Winston scoffed, his lips curling into a thin, cold smile. “A wife." Right. A title, nothing more.

The words stung. I could feel my heart diving bit by bit, and I wanted to scream, or throw something, anything, just to break the silence that had become unbearable.

But I didn’t. Instead, I turned and walked out of the room. I can’t deal with him anymore—not tonight.

I grabbed my coat, needing air, needing distance from everything.

I got into my car not having an idea of how long I would be driving. My mind was lost in thought, replaying everything. My eyes were filled with tears, but I refused to let them out. I couldn’t afford to cry—not now.

But I kept driving, my mind raced with frustration. I didn’t notice that a car was coming until it was too late.

My car tires blew out as I tried to hold my brakes. But the break became unresponsive, it seemed like someone had tempered with it.

Before I knew what was happening, everything went dark.

The next thing, I found myself in the hospital bed.

Winston’s face was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. His expression was unreadable.

“Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse, like he’d been worried. But I knew better. This wasn't a concern. It was an obligation.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

He looked at me for a moment before saying anything again. “I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t for your son.” And why did you leave without my permission?

The words stung more than the pain in my head. I couldn’t believe he was blaming me for what had happened. But before I could say a word, he interrupted me.

I give you two hours to get back home, dress, and meet me at the office. We have a meeting to attend.