Chapter 3
1770 Words
The Wedding That Shocked the World
Mia's POV
Six hours later, I stood in a designer boutique that Alexander had opened exclusively for us, staring at myself in a wedding dress that cost more than most people's cars.
"You look like revenge personified," the stylist murmured, adjusting the black diamond necklace at my throat.
She wasn't wrong. The dress was nothing like what I'd worn to marry Damien—that had been soft, romantic, innocent. This was armor disguised as silk. Blood-red, form-fitting, with a dangerously low back and a slit that would make headlines.
"It's perfect," Alexander said from behind me.
I turned to find him in a black tux that looked like it was sewn onto his body. He'd been gone for the past two hours handling "arrangements."
"The judge is here," he said, offering me his arm. "Last chance to run."
"I don't run." I took his arm, noting how solid he felt. "I learned that from watching you walk away from your family."
"I didn't run," he corrected, leading me to a private room in the back. "I retreated to build an army. There's a difference."
The ceremony was nothing like my first wedding. No flowers, no music, no false promises of eternal love. Just a judge, two witnesses Alexander had brought, and brutal honesty.
"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the judge asked.
I looked at Alexander—this dark prince offering me a kingdom built on revenge. "I do."
"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Alexander's eyes never left mine. "Absolutely."
"You may kiss the bride."
Alexander stepped closer, one hand sliding around my waist. "We should make this look convincing," he murmured against my lips. "For the cameras."
"What cameras—"
He kissed me, and the world exploded.
This was nothing like Damien's careful, practiced kisses. Alexander kissed like he fought—with absolute commitment and devastating precision. His hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as he claimed my mouth in a way that made my knees weak and my anger stronger.
When he pulled back, I was breathing hard, my lips swollen. Flash bulbs were going off everywhere. The "witnesses" were actually photographers.
"You planned this," I gasped.
"Every detail." He straightened my necklace with fingers that lingered against my throat. "In one hour, our wedding photos will be on every news site in the city. In two hours, Damien will be calling you."
"I threw my phone in the trash."
"Good." He pulled out a new one, latest model, already set up. "This one's better. And untraceable."
"You think of everything."
"Not everything." His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "I didn't think you'd look this beautiful in red."
Before I could respond, one of the photographers approached—a woman with calculating eyes.
"Mr. Kirk, the story's ready to go live. The headline as requested: 'Alexander Kirk Returns: Marries Mystery Woman in Secret Ceremony.'"
"Add a detail," Alexander said, not looking away from me. "Make sure to mention the bride wore red. Damien will understand the message."
"What message?" I asked after the photographer left.
"Red was his mother's favorite color. She wore it to every important event." His jaw tightened. "Until she died."
There was a story there, but now wasn't the time. We had a war to win.
Alexander's phone buzzed. He smiled as he read it. "The board of Kirk Corporation just called an emergency meeting. They've discovered my controlling shares."
"Won't Damien be there?"
"He's racing back from the Hamptons with Victoria. Apparently, they were celebrating their engagement."
"Engagement?" The word hit like a slap. "But we're not even divorced—" I stopped. "Oh. Right. According to them, we were never married."
"Which makes this even better." Alexander pulled me against him as another photographer appeared. "Smile, wife. You're about to become the most famous woman in New York."
The photos felt different from any I'd taken with Damien. Alexander didn't just pose with me—he possessed the space around us, drew every eye, commanded every lens. And he kept touching me. A hand on my lower back. Fingers interlaced with mine. His lips against my temple.
"You're enjoying this," I accused.
"Immensely." He spun me for another shot, the dress flaring dramatically. "Aren't you?"
I was. That was the strange part. Every flash was a small revenge. Every photo a bullet aimed at Damien and Victoria.
"Mrs. Kirk," someone called. "How long have you known Alexander?"
Before I could panic about answering, Alexander smoothly intervened. "My wife and I prefer to keep our romance private. But I will say this—when you know, you know."
"Is it true you left Europe specifically to marry her?"
"I'd leave anywhere for her." The way he said it, looking down at me with those intense eyes, almost made me believe it was real.
My new phone exploded with notifications as the story went live. The first call was from an unknown number. Alexander nodded for me to answer and put it on speaker.
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"
Damien. His voice was raw, furious.
"Hello to you too," I said calmly, though my hands shook. "Congratulations on your engagement."
"Mia, whatever game you're playing—"
"Game?" Alexander took the phone from me. "Hello, brother."
Silence. Then: "Alexander."
"I heard you've been telling people Mia was never your wife. Imagine my surprise, considering I have your wedding certificate right here."
"You're lying."
"Check your email."
I heard rustling, then a sharp intake of breath.
"That's right," Alexander continued. "Every document. Every photo. Every text you sent her over Four years. I particularly enjoyed the ones where you called her 'the love of your life.' November fifteenth, two years ago, remember? Right before you started seeing Victoria."
"How did you—"
"I've been watching you for years, little brother. Waiting for you to finally cross the line you couldn't come back from." His voice dropped, dangerous. "You found it."
"If you release those—"
"Oh, I'm not releasing them. Yet. That would be too easy." Alexander smiled coldly. "First, I'm going to take everything. Your company. Your reputation. Your carefully crafted life. And Mia's going to help me do it."
"Mia would never—"
I grabbed the phone back. "Mia would do anything to destroy you now." My voice was steady, cold. "You taught me well, Damien. Love is weakness, right? So I chose power instead."
"You married him for revenge? Mia, that's not you—"
"You don't know me," I cut him off. "You never did. You knew the girl who waited at home. Who believed your lies. Who let you hide her." I laughed, and it sounded like Alexander's laugh—sharp and dangerous. "That girl is dead. You killed her."
"Baby, please—"
"Don't call me that." I looked at Alexander as I spoke. "I have a new husband now. One who isn't ashamed to be seen with me."
Victoria's voice suddenly came through, shrill and panicked. "You can't marry him! The inheritance, it you're legally married—"
"Ah, there it is," Alexander murmured. "The real fear."
I smiled slowly. "Worried about my father's will, Victoria? The real one, not the forgery?"
Silence.
"See you at the board meeting," Alexander said pleasantly. "Oh, and Damien? Mother's ring—the one you promised Mia but gave to Victoria instead? I'll be putting a proper one on my wife's finger. Twenty carats should do it, don't you think?"
He hung up before Damien could respond.
"Twenty carats?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Too small?" He was already texting someone. "We can go bigger."
"Alexander—"
He pulled me against him suddenly, his mouth near my ear. "They're going to come at us with everything they have. Every dirty trick, every lie, every manipulation. Are you ready for that?"
"Are you?"
His laugh rumbled through his chest. "I've been ready since I was fifteen and watched Damien destroy something precious just because he could."
"What did he destroy?"
His eyes darkened. "Someone precious."
Before I could ask more, the boutique door burst open. My stepmother stood there, breathing hard, her perfect composure cracked.
"You little b***h," she snarled.
Alexander stepped in front of me, but I moved around him. This was my fight.
"Hello, Catherine," I said pleasantly. "Heard you changed the locks. How very predictable."
"You think marrying his brother changes anything? You're still nothing. Still the pathetic orphan your father took pity on."
"Orphan?" I laughed. "My mother died when I was three. My father raised me alone until you slithered into our lives when I was fifteen. If anyone's the outsider here, it's you."
Her face went red. "Your father left everything to Victoria because he knew you were weak. Unstable. Look at you—marrying a stranger for revenge?"
"Not a stranger," Alexander said smoothly. "We've known each other for years. Haven't we, darling?"
He pulled me against his side, and I played along. "Since before I made the mistake of marrying the wrong brother."
Catherine's eyes widened. "You were cheating?"
"By Damien's definition, we were never married," I said sweetly. "So how could I cheat?"
She stepped forward, hand raised, but Alexander caught her wrist. "Touch my wife," he said very quietly, "and I'll destroy more than just your stolen inheritance. I'll expose every dirty secret you've hidden. Starting with your first husband's suspicious death."
Catherine went white. She yanked her hand free and stepped back.
"This isn't over," she hissed.
"No," I agreed. "It's just beginning."
She stormed out, and I turned to Alexander. "Her first husband's death?"
"Officially a heart attack. Unofficially? The autopsy was never released, and she inherited everything." He straightened his cuffs. "I told you I've been investigating for years."
"Why? Why do all this for me?"
He was quiet for a long moment, then: "The night before your wedding to Damien, after you rejected my warning, I went to his room. Told him if he hurt you, I'd destroy him."
"What did he say?"
"He laughed. Said you were too boring to hurt. Too simple to matter." Alexander's eyes met mine. "I've been waiting Four years to prove him wrong."
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. A photo of Damien and Victoria at their engagement party just hours ago. They were laughing, champagne glasses raised, my wedding ring clearly visible on Victoria's finger.
She was wearing my ring.
Something inside me turned to ice. "Alexander?"
"Yes?"
"Twenty carats isn't big enough."
- Writer
