CHAPTER 4: THE BILLIONAIRE’S SCANDAL
1353 Words
Thirty minutes later, both of them stood outside one of Manhattan’s twenty-four-hour marriage offices while still drunk and making terrible decisions.
Esmée stared up at the glowing neon sign in disbelief.
“We’re actually doing this.”
Ozbert adjusted the collar of his black coat calmly.
“You can still leave.”
She looked at him carefully.
The scary thing was —
she didn’t want to.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe desperation made people reckless.
Or maybe she was simply tired of surviving instead of living.
Inside, the sleepy clerk barely looked up while processing their paperwork.
“Names?”
“Ozbert Fitzwilliams.”
The woman’s eyes widened immediately.
“The Ozbert Fitzwilliams?”
“Yes.”
Esmée sighed.
Of course even random marriage clerks knew him.
“And you?”
“Esmée Aubin”
The process felt disturbingly fast.
A few signatures.
A blurry photo.
A rushed ceremony.
And suddenly —
“Congratulations,” the clerk said tiredly. “You’re officially married.”
Esmée stared at the marriage certificate in complete disbelief.
“Oh my God.”
Ozbert looked equally stunned.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Then Esmée started laughing.
Actual uncontrollable laughter.
Ozbert frowned slightly.
“What’s funny?”
“I just married a billionaire while drunk.”
Oddly enough —
that made him laugh too.
Outside the building, neither of them noticed the black SUV parked across the street.
Or the cameras flashing behind tinted windows.
Paparazzi.
Watching everything.
Following them.
By the time Ozbert and Esmée stumbled into a small luxury motel near downtown Manhattan around three in the morning, several photos had already been taken.
Her laughing beside him.
Him holding her waist.
The marriage certificate in Esmée’s hand.
And finally —
one blurry photo of them disappearing into the motel together.
Perfect tabloid material.
Inside the motel room, Esmée kicked off her heels dramatically before collapsing backward onto the bed.
“I think we ruined our lives tonight.”
Ozbert ran his fingers through his hair while staring at the marriage certificate again.
Legally married.
To a woman he has met twice.
This was definitely the worst decision he had ever made.
And somehow —
he couldn’t bring himself to regret it yet.
Before he could say anything else to Esmée, she had already fallen asleep.
He took off his tie and suit jacket and collapsed on the small couch, having to bend his knees to actually fit on the couch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A loud banging sound nearly shattered the silence inside the motel room.
Ozbert groaned softly from the couch, his head pounding violently.
“What the hell…”
Another knock.
Harder this time.
“Open the damn door before I break it down!”
Ozbert immediately recognized the voice.
Malachi.
He sat up slowly, wincing from the headache while Esmée buried herself deeper beneath the blankets.
“Five more minutes…” she mumbled sleepily.
The banging continued.
Ozbert dragged a hand down his face before standing and opening the door.
Malachi Rowe stormed inside looking absolutely furious.
His dark eyes immediately scanned the room before landing on the sleeping woman.
Then his gaze slowly returned to Ozbert.
“You got married?”
Ozbert blinked tiredly.
“Apparently.”
Malachi stared at him in complete disbelief.
“I tracked your phone to that bar because your grandfather was ready to alert the police thinking you got kidn*pped or murdered.” His voice lowered dangerously. “Instead I find you in a motel with a wife.”
Esmée slowly sat up on the bed.
“Wife is still a very uncomfortable word.”
Malachi pointed at her dramatically.
“Exactly! You!” He turned back toward Ozbert. “Do you have any idea what’s happening right now?”
Ozbert’s silence answered enough.
Malachi laughed humorlessly before pulling out his phone.
“The tabloids already got the photos.”
Ozbert immediately grabbed the device from him.
And froze.
Front page headlines already flooded the internet.
FITZWILLIAMS HEIR SECRETLY MARRIES MYSTERY WOMAN.
BILLIONAIRE SEEN ENTERING MOTEL WITH NEW WIFE. SOURCES CLAIM SHE’S A WAITRESS AND HE ASSAULTED HER THE DAY BEFORE.
Esmée leaned closer beside him.
“Oh my God.”
Malachi rubbed his temples.
“Your grandfather is furious. Your father nearly had a stroke. The entire family is losing their minds right now.”
Ozbert exhaled slowly.
“Fantastic.”
“And that’s not even the worst part,” Malachi added grimly.
Ozbert looked up.
“The board members have already seen the photos.”
Silence filled the room.
Because that changed everything.
The Fitzwilliams family name wasn’t just old money —
it was power.
Image.
Control.
And Ozbert had just publicly destroyed all three overnight.
Malachi glanced toward Esmée awkwardly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The drive back to the Fitzwilliams estate felt painfully long.
Esmée sat quietly beside Ozbert in the backseat while anxiety slowly twisted inside her stomach.
Everything felt different now that the alcohol had worn off.
Real. Too real.
She glanced out the tinted window as massive iron gates slowly opened ahead of them.
Her breath caught slightly.
The estate looked less like a home and more like something pulled from an old European dynasty.
Large fountains.
Endless gardens.
Security everywhere.
Rich people were genuinely terrifying.
The moment they stepped inside, tension immediately filled the grand entrance hall.
And then —
“Have you completely lost your mind?!”
Authur Fitzwilliams’ voice echoed violently through the mansion.
Esmée flinched slightly and went to stand behind Ozbert in a desperate attempt to hide herself.
Ozbert barely reacted.
His father stormed toward them looking furious beyond belief.
“You disappear all night, ignore every call, get drunk, marry a complete stranger, and allow paparazzi to plaster this family across every media outlet in Manhattan?!”
Ozbert’s expression remained calm.
“We were intoxicated.”
Authur stared at him in disbelief.
“That is your defense?”
Malachi quietly stepped backward.
Authur looked at Esmée behind Ozbert briefly.
She immediately straightened awkwardly beneath his sharp gaze.
Then he looked back at his son with visible disappointment.
“Your grandfather wants to see both of you. Now.”
The office doors closed heavily behind them.
Esmée instantly felt smaller.
Ozbert’s grandfather sat behind a massive mahogany desk with several papers laid neatly before him.
Cold eyes.
Unreadable expression.
Power radiated from him effortlessly.
He looked toward Esmée first.
“So,” he said calmly, “you are the woman who married my grandson.”
Esmée swallowed carefully.
“Yes, sir.”
His gaze lowered toward the documents.
“I had investigators run a background check on you this morning.”
Ozbert’s jaw tightened slightly.
The older man continued anyway.
“Twenty-three years old. Former literature student. Dropped out during your second year.” His eyes lifted slowly. “Financially unstable. No family influence. No accomplishments worth mentioning.”
Every word felt sharp.
Deliberate.
Esmée remained silent.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he told Ozbert coldly. “Marrying a woman of such low caliber simply because you were drunk.”
Ozbert’s expression darkened immediately.
“Watch your tone.”
The older man ignored him.
“A Fitzwilliams marriage affects business alliances, public reputation, investments —”
“I’m right here.” Esmée interrupted quietly.
Silence fell instantly.
Even Ozbert looked slightly surprised.
His grandfather slowly turned toward her.
Esmée’s hands trembled slightly beside her, but she forced herself to continue.
“You can trash talk me all you want,” she said carefully, “but at least say it to my face instead of talking about me like I’m some stray animal he dragged home.”
The room became very still.
Ozbert stared at her differently now.
Not pity.
Not amusement.
Something else.
Interest.
His grandfather’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You are bold.”
Esmée gave a small humorless laugh.
“No, sir. I’m humiliated.”
For the first time since entering the office—
someone finally looked at her like a human being.
In a desperate attempt to save face, he held her hand and stormed out of his grandfather’s office.
- Writer
