The Shadow Husband

CHAPTER 3: UNMASKED GROOM

"Julian is asexual, Claire! He hates women! You will waste away beside him and never be treated like a wife!" Arthur shouted from the poolside. His voice still rang clear in Claire’s ears as she leaned against the locked door of her room.

Claire steadied her ragged breathing. She looked at Julian’s photo, still lying on her vanity table. "Asexual?" she murmured softly. "If the rumors are true, wouldn’t that be a blessing instead?"

Instead of feeling afraid as Arthur had hoped, an idea began to form in Claire’s mind. She walked to her study desk, taking a blank sheet of paper and a pen. If Julian truly disliked women and lived as a loner, then this marriage could become a mutually beneficial business arrangement.

"We will make a deal, Julian Blackwood," Claire said to herself as she began writing down key points. "No physical contact. No interference in personal affairs. And we will divorce once things settle down."

Claire felt much calmer after drafting this "Marriage Agreement". To her, marrying a man who was not interested in her was far safer than living a lie with the greedy Arthur.

The next day, Arthur tried again to corner Claire in the hallway leading to the dining room. His face looked haggard, showing he had not slept all night.

"Claire, please think again. I just got word that Julian works as a debt collector in the seedy bars of Namba. He is rough, Claire. He has no dignity," Arthur whispered, trying to grab Claire’s hand forcefully.

Claire pulled her hand away with a disgusted look. "Dignity? You talk about dignity after what you did with Natalie? Arthur, stop acting like you care. We both know you are only afraid your position as heir will be pushed aside."

"You are truly stubborn!" Arthur hissed, his face red with frustration. "Fine! Marry that thug! Just wait, in a week you will come crying to me asking for a divorce."

"I would rather cry in a thug’s home than force a smile beside a disgusting man like you," Claire shot back sharply before walking past Arthur without another glance.

Arthur could only stand still, staring at Claire’s back with clenched fists. He was frustrated because for the first time, the usually obedient Claire Adeline had become a stone he could not break.

The dreaded wedding day arrived at last. Claire stood before the large mirror in the bridal dressing room. The white satin gown was beautiful, but her heart felt as heavy as lead. Outside, the sound of classical music began to play, signaling that the guests, most of them high-class businesspeople, had filled the hall.

Click.

The door opened roughly. Natalie entered with Eleanor, both wearing outrageously flashy evening gowns as if trying to overshadow the bride.

"Oh, look at our poor bride," Natalie laughed bitterly, walking in a circle around Claire. "Your dress is lovely, Claire. It is such a shame your groom might show up smelling of alcohol and wearing unwashed clothes."

"Natalie, don’t be like that," Eleanor said in a tone that pretended to scold, though her eyes gleamed with pleasure. "Claire has suffered enough having to marry the family outcast. At least we should be grateful she did not end up on the streets after Arthur’s little betrayal."

Natalie moved closer, whispering something in Claire’s ear with pure malice. "Don’t expect grandfather to protect you anymore after this. Once you walk out of the mansion gates with Julian, you will be nothing. You will only be the wife of a day laborer."

Eleanor’s hand deliberately knocked over a flower arrangement on the table, spilling it across the bottom of Claire’s gown. "Oops, forgive me, Claire. My hand was slippery. But I think that stain will match your future husband perfectly."

Claire closed her eyes, holding back tears that threatened to fall. She felt so cornered. Just as she felt her dignity being trampled underfoot, a deep, commanding baritone voice sounded from the doorway.

"Is there a problem here?"

The entire room fell silent at once. Natalie and Eleanor turned with annoyed faces, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt them. But their words caught in their throats.

A man stood there. He wore a custom-made black tuxedo that fit his broad, sturdy frame perfectly. His shoulders were wide, his posture imposing, and his face. Claire’s eyes widened until she nearly forgot to breathe.

The man had no unkempt beard like in the photo. His face was clean-shaven, revealing strong jawline and strikingly handsome features, far surpassing even Arthur.

His hair was styled in an elegant slick-back. His sharp black eyes stared at Natalie and Eleanor with a look that made both women shudder.

"Wh, who are you?" Natalie stammered, both fascinated and afraid.

The man ignored Natalie and walked closer to Claire. He bowed slightly, picking up the fallen flowers near her feet, then stood directly in front of her. His height, nearly six and a half feet, made Claire look up to meet his gaze.

"Sorry I’m late, my wife," he said in a low, soothing voice. "I did not know your stepfamily was so eager to ‘help’ you get ready."

Claire blinked several times. "Julian? You’re Julian Blackwood?"

"Who else did you expect?" Julian gave a faint smile, just for a moment, but enough to make Claire’s heart race for a different reason now.

Julian turned to Eleanor and Natalie, who still stood frozen like wax statues. "Mrs. Eleanor, Ms. Natalie... thank you for keeping Claire company. But I think your time here is done. I do not like my bride being bothered by people who have no real stake in her life."

"But, but the photo " Natalie stammered, pointing at the air as if referring to the old picture of the rough-looking man they had seen before.

"The photo?" Julian raised one eyebrow. "Think of it as a small test to see who truly wanted to be part of my life. And it seems only Claire passed."

Julian extended his large, warm hand toward Claire. "Come, Claire. Grandfather is waiting at the altar. We should not keep him waiting too long over such trivial matters."

Claire stared at his hand, then at Julian’s commanding face. The anxiety that had weighed on her since morning vanished suddenly. With hesitation but certainty, she placed her hand in his.

As they left the dressing room and entered the main hall, every guest fell silent at once. Whispers about the "scary outcast grandson" disappeared instantly, replaced by murmurs of admiration.

Arthur, standing in the front row, looked as if he had seen a ghost. The wine glass in his hand nearly dropped as he stared at the imposing man walking beside Claire. This was no thug. This was no piece of trash.

The man who held Claire protectively by the arm was a ruler who had been hiding his fangs all along.

Claire glanced at Julian from behind her veil. Behind his handsome face, she realized one thing: Julian Blackwood was far more mysterious and dangerous than any old photograph could capture. And now, she had just surrendered herself to his world.