CHAPTER SEVEN
1195 Words
ELLA.
The reception hall glowed with golden chandeliers, soft jazz music curling through the air. The clink of glasses, the hum of voices, the occasional bursts of laughter—it all blurred into a single, polished haze. I stood beside Archer, my hand resting lightly on his arm, my smile as fixed as the pearls on my ears.
People talked.
Mostly to him.
Some to me, but rarely with real interest.
I nodded when I needed to. Said “thank you” when someone offered congratulations. Compliments came dressed like sugar, but they tasted like salt. Some smiled too tight when they called me lovely, or Archer lucky, as if wondering what a girl like me was doing next to a man like him.
One woman, slim and striking in a dark red dress, leaned in too close as she said, “She’s quite the surprise, Archer. I didn’t picture you marrying… someone like her.”
Archer didn’t flinch. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Neither did I,” he said smoothly. “But sometimes the market delivers unexpected mergers.”
She gave a brittle laugh and walked away.
I swallowed.
Another couple came. Then another. Men in suits wanting to shake Archer’s hand, women eyeing me like I was an amateur actor in a role I didn’t deserve. I tried not to listen. I kept my expression soft and calm, even though my insides twisted in knots.
The worst part was Archer said nothing cruel to me. But nothing kind either. He was… there. That was all.
When the music changed, a voice announced our first dance. My heart dropped to my stomach. Archer extended his hand with the same enthusiasm he might offer a boardroom pen. I placed my fingers in his, ignoring how cold his palm felt.
We walked to the dance floor.
The spotlight found us.
I placed one hand on his shoulder, the other held by his. His movements were precise. Detached. Not a single wasted motion, but not a single warm one either.
We moved slowly. Stiffly.
“I suppose we’re good actors,” I said softly, trying to make it light. “We’ve fooled everyone.”
His jaw tightened. “Don’t talk like this is a joke.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“You think I wanted this?” he asked sharply, though his lips barely moved. “This farce of a wedding?”
“I never said you did.”
He exhaled through his nose, as if trying to hold something in. “Just so you know, you don’t have to keep pretending to be the innocent one.”
I blinked up at him. “What does that mean?”
“I think you know.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, more firmly now. “If you’ve got something to say, Archer, say it.”
His gaze dropped to mine, steel-hard. “You planned it. The night we spent together. The timing. The way you let things happen so easily. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
My stomach dropped. “You think I... That I manipulated you into this?”
“I know it’s awfully suspicious that I f**k you one night and then you’re promised to me the next.”
“I didn’t,” I snapped, voice breaking. “I didn’t know until after. And that night... that night wasn’t a plan. It was messy and impulsive and it wasn’t meant to become anything. But I would never scheme my way into a marriage, Archer.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe,” I said, softer now. “But I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t have to see me at your house. We can live like polite strangers if that’s what you want.”
He didn’t respond.
But something in his expression twisted. Not guilt. Not apology. Just more cold silence.
The music ended. We stepped apart.
He moved to the mic for the obligatory speech. Thanked the guests. Said something cold about business unity and family honor. The room clapped and raised their glasses, none the wiser.
Then we left.
We stepped into the car again, this time as husband and wife, and drove away from the gleaming lights of the reception hall.
He didn’t speak to me.
Instead, he made calls. Talked about contracts. Confirmed a meeting in Berlin. Something about a shipping delay. His voice was cool and professional, and he didn’t once glance my way.
I stared out the window, trying not to let the ache in my chest grow too loud.
Maybe this was marriage. Maybe for people like me, pawns in my fathers’ hands, it was never about affection. Maybe hoping for anything more was my mistake.
The city gave way to long, winding roads. Trees lined both sides. Gates opened automatically as we reached Wolfe Estate, the headlights sweeping over vast lawns and hedges cut to military precision.
A grand, stone-front mansion loomed ahead, its windows glowing warm, but to me it looked as cold as Archer’s eyes.
When the car stopped, a woman in a crisp black dress opened the door.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe,” she said with a small nod. “I’m Welma. Head of staff.”
Archer stepped out first. He didn’t wait for me. I climbed out on my own.
“Show Mrs. Wolfe to her room,” Archer told her. “Make sure she gets dinner. I’d like to be left alone for the night.”
Welma looked between us. “Of course, sir.”
Archer glanced at me, only briefly. There was no warmth. No acknowledgment that I was now, technically, his wife.
Then he turned and walked into the house.
Just like that.
As if I didn’t matter.
I stood there for a moment, feeling something tighten in my throat. Not tears. Not yet. Just that hollow pull that comes when you realize you’re completely… unwanted.
“Come, dear,” Welma said gently. “Let me show you to your suite.”
I nodded.
I didn’t trust my voice.
I followed her into the house, trying to keep my back straight and my breathing even. The walls were tall, ceilings grand, chandeliers glowing above us. It was beautiful.
And it felt like a cage.
As we walked down the long corridor, I dared to ask quietly, “Is it always this quiet here?”
Welma looked at me with something close to sympathy. “Not always. But... things are often quiet with Mr. Wolfe. He prefers solitude.”
Of course he does.
I said nothing else.
We reached a large room at the end of the hall. She opened the door and stepped aside to let me in.
My new room. Separate from his.
Just as he wanted.
“Dinner will be brought shortly,” she said kindly. “Would you like anything else?”
“No. Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded and left, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
I stood there in my white gown, surrounded by luxury.
And I had never felt more alone.
- Writer
