CHAPTER NINE
1245 Words
ELLA.
Archer’s words stayed with me.
They shouldn’t have hurt me as much as they did, but they clung to my chest like thorns, pricking me with every breath.
Stick to your promise.
I did just that.
I stayed out of his way. I ate my meals alone, wandered the gardens without lingering near his study windows, and kept to the left corridors while he used the right—on the rare days he came home at all.
It was easier than pretending.
I assumed he’d vanish again for another week or more. But only a few days passed before Welma knocked gently on my door early one morning.
“Mrs. Wolfe,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Mr. Wolfe is back. There’s an event tonight. A formal dinner.”
My stomach turned. “He wants me to attend?”
Her hands folded neatly in front of her. “It’s expected.”
That didn’t exactly answer my question, but I knew better than to press. I nodded.
The rest of the day blurred with fittings, hair styling, and makeup. Two women I hadn’t seen before were sent by some company Archer worked with. They moved around me like I was a mannequin, poking pins into fabric and brushing my face with powders I didn’t recognize.
“Natural glam,” one of them murmured as she dabbed something on my cheekbones.
“Elegance sells,” the other said, tightening the dress at my back.
I barely saw myself in the mirror until it was all done. When I finally looked up, I barely recognized the woman staring back.
The dress was a sleek midnight blue. Simple, yet expensive. My hair was pulled into a low bun, soft waves framing my face. I looked like someone who belonged to Archer Wolfe.
But it still didn’t feel like me.
By evening, the car was waiting.
I walked down the stairs slowly, clutching the hem of my dress as I moved. Archer stood near the grand entrance, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on me.
He looked… annoyed. No—furious. But his expression was too tightly controlled to read properly.
I stopped midway. “Did I do something wrong?”
He didn’t answer right away. His hands were in his pockets. His eyes trailed down the dress and back to my face.
“No,” he said, clipped and cold. “Let’s go.”
We got into the car. I braced myself for silence. I wasn’t going to try. Not tonight.
But as soon as the car pulled away from the estate, Archer reached into his jacket and pulled out a phone.
He held it out to me without looking.
“What’s this?” I asked quietly.
“You need a phone,” he said. “So I can reach you if necessary.”
I took it and nodded. “Thank you.”
He didn’t say anything else.
The venue was a glass building glowing gold in the night. Lights flashed as our car pulled up, and I froze as the doors opened. Paparazzi. So many cameras. So many eyes.
Archer stepped out first. He didn’t even glance at me as he rounded the car and opened the door. I stepped out into the chaos of clicking shutters and yelling voices.
“Mr. Wolfe, over here—who’s the lucky bride—?”
“Mrs. Wolfe, how does it feel to marry the city’s most eligible bachelor?”
They kept shouting, but we didn’t answer. Archer placed a hand on my back, more for control than comfort, and guided me up the carpet and through the doors.
Inside, the noise softened. Opulence wrapped the room in gold and velvet. Crystal chandeliers dangled like stars. Guests in suits and gowns clustered in polite circles, sipping champagne and murmuring politics behind smiles.
Archer and I made our rounds.
I stayed silent beside him, nodding when introduced, smiling when necessary. I didn’t know these people. I didn’t even know if they cared who I was. I was a prop. A newlywed accessory.
Then I saw him—my father.
He stood with a glass of red wine, surrounded by a few familiar names from the financial world. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he stepped forward with a grin I hadn’t seen in years.
“Ella,” he said. “Don’t you look beautiful?”
I gave him a tight smile. “Dad.”
He looked between Archer and me. “How’s married life treating you two?”
Archer’s arm stiffened beside me.
“Fine,” he said coolly. “As expected.”
My father gave a low chuckle. “Good to hear. You’ve got yourself a gem, son. She’s not high maintenance. Ella’s always been... quiet.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Then a woman nearby, holding a flute of champagne, tilted her head. “So when’s the honeymoon?”
I blinked. My eyes flicked to Archer.
Without missing a beat, he smiled faintly. “We leave tomorrow.”
Everyone around us chimed in with oohs and delighted murmurs.
“Where to?” someone asked.
“Somewhere private,” he said flatly.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to. His jaw had ticked ever so slightly. The lie had come too easily but now, it was one he had to follow through on.
I slipped away after a while to the bathroom, needing to breathe. But just before I pushed the door open, I bumped into someone.
“Oh sorry,” I said, taking a step back.
The girl was pale and shaking, her breathing shallow and rapid.
“Hey… are you okay?”
She shook her head. “I…I can’t breathe…”
I guided her to a nearby seat and crouched in front of her. “Just try to focus on me, alright? In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
She clutched her chest, eyes darting around.
“I’ve had panic attacks before,” I said gently. “You’re okay. Just keep breathing.”
After a minute, her breathing slowed. She looked at me with teary eyes. “I’m sorry. I just—I just found out I’m pregnant. And my parents—God, they expect me to marry this businessman next week.”
Her voice cracked.
I sat beside her. “What’s your name?”
“Kisha.”
“I’m Ella.”
She sniffled. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to decide everything tonight,” I said softly. “But you should have someone to talk to.”
We exchanged numbers before parting ways. I promised to call her the next day.
The rest of the evening blurred. Archer and I slipped out before midnight. The car ride was silent, just like the one before.
As soon as we stepped into the estate, I turned to head up the stairs.
“Ella,” Archer said from behind.
I stopped.
He didn’t move closer. He didn’t even take off his coat.
“Pack light,” he said. “We leave by nine.”
I blinked at him. “Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer, merely c****d a brow. Right. The honeymoon.
I nodded once and turned to leave, my heart racing. A part of me hoped he’d call me again, say something. Anything.
But I reached the top of the stairs and was soon out of his sight.
- Writer
