THE WEDDING
1480 Words
The room held its breath.
Two hundred people.
Dozens of cameras.
And one question hanging between us like a blade.
“Did you cheat on Adrian with Mr. Carter before the wedding?”
For a second, I couldn't move.
I felt Damien’s hand against the small of my back.
Steady.
Warm.
Across the room, Adrian was watching me.
I didn't need to look directly at him to know it.
My heart was pounding so hard I was convinced the entire ballroom could hear it.
Yesterday, I was the abandoned bride.
Tonight, I was supposed to be Mrs. Carter.
I lifted my chin.
“No.”
My voice surprised even me.
It was clear.
It didn't shake.
“I met Mr. Carter twenty-four hours after my wedding was called off.”
A murmur swept through the room.
The reporter wasn't finished.
“Then why are you here with him? Why the rush?”
Before I could answer, Damien stepped forward.
His hand remained at my back.
His voice was calm enough to make everyone else go silent.
“Because, Miss,” he said, “when you find someone worth keeping, you don't wait.”
For half a second, nobody reacted.
Then,
FLASH. FLASH. FLASH.
The ballroom erupted.
Phones came out.
People whispered.
Someone laughed in disbelief.
Someone else immediately started typing.
I looked at Damien.
He didn't look at me.
He simply guided me through the crowd as if he hadn't just dropped a sentence capable of setting the entire internet on fire.
By the time we reached the car, my phone was vibrating nonstop.
One of the notifications read:
*#WORTHKEEPING IS TRENDING.*
I stared at it.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Damien glanced over.
“What?”
“Your line.”
“What about it?”
“It’s everywhere.”
He shrugged.
“Good.”
“You planned that?”
“No.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You're lying.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
The car pulled away from the hotel.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
The adrenaline from the gala was slowly fading, leaving behind something more uncomfortable.
Reality.
I looked down.
His hand was still covering mine.
I hadn't noticed when it happened.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He didn't look at me.
“Don't.”
I frowned.
“Don't what?”
“Thank me.”
“Why?”
“That was business.”
I looked at our hands.
“If it was business, why are you still holding my hand?”
His fingers loosened immediately.
He looked out the window.
“I was distracted.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Of course.”
He didn't answer.
But the corner of his mouth moved.
Just slightly.
---
Two days later, I stood inside City Hall wondering how my life had changed so quickly.
9:03 a.m.
No flowers.
No orchestra.
No designer wedding cake.
No guests.
No family.
Just me, Damien, two witnesses from his law firm, and a judge who looked like she'd performed this ceremony so many times she could probably recite it in her sleep.
I wore a white pantsuit.
Simple.
Clean.
Nothing like the wedding dress I'd worn three days earlier.
Damien wore black.
Of course he did.
He stood beside me with his hands folded in front of him, looking completely composed.
I hated how calm he was.
Or maybe I envied him for it.
The judge smiled.
“Dearly beloved”
I almost laughed.
There was nothing remotely romantic about this.
My eyes moved toward Damien.
His expression was unreadable.
This wasn't about love.
It was about a contract.
A clause in a will.
My father's debts.
His inheritance.
Six months.
Five million dollars.
Two strangers pretending to be married.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
The judge looked at Damien.
“Do you, Damien Carter, take Isabella Hart to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Damien didn't hesitate.
“I do.”
Two words.
Simple.
Certain.
Then the judge turned to me.
“And do you, Isabella Hart, take Damien Carter to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My throat tightened.
Three days ago, I'd stood in a church and said those same words to another man.
I had believed them.
I had meant them.
That “I do” had ended with humiliation, betrayal, and the destruction of everything I'd thought my life would be.
This one was different.
This one was supposed to buy me back everything I'd lost.
My home.
My father's company.
My future.
Survival.
I looked at Damien.
He was waiting.
I took a breath.
“I do.”
The judge smiled.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Silence.
I looked at Damien.
He looked at me.
Neither of us moved.
The judge blinked.
Then sighed.
“Or not.”
One of the witnesses coughed to hide a laugh.
Damien extended his hand.
I stared at it for a second before taking it.
We shook hands.
The witnesses signed.
The judge stamped the documents.
And just like that.
I was married.
Mrs. Isabella Carter.
The words looked strange on paper.
Almost dangerous.
We walked outside.
Sunlight hit my face.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Maybe this was a new beginning.
Maybe.
“Bella.”
My entire body went rigid.
I knew that voice.
Adrian.
I opened my eyes.
He stood across from the steps of City Hall.
Natasha was beside him.
Her stomach was much larger now.
Eight months pregnant.
Three reporters stood behind them, cameras already raised.
Of course.
Adrian smiled.
“Congratulations.”
The word sounded like an insult.
“I didn't think you'd move on so quickly.”
Before I could answer, Damien stepped slightly in front of me.
Not enough to make a scene.
Just enough to make his position clear.
“This is a private matter, Mr. Knight.”
Adrian laughed.
“Private?”
Natasha tilted her head.
“Is it?”
Her smile was sweet.
Too sweet.
She lifted her phone.
“Because I have proof that this marriage is a fraud.”
My stomach dropped.
She swiped across the screen.
Then held the phone toward the reporters.
A photograph appeared.
Our contract.
The real one.
Six months.
Five million dollars.
No love.
No personal claims.
Divorce.
My blood went cold.
“She is being paid to marry him,” Natasha announced.
Her eyes found mine.
“How much is your dignity worth, sister?”
The reporters exploded.
“Is it true, Mrs. Carter?”
“How much did Mr. Carter pay you?”
“Was your appearance at the gala staged?”
“Did you marry him for money?”
“Did he buy your silence?”
I couldn't hear them anymore.
Everything had become noise.
My eyes were fixed on Natasha.
She was smiling.
She had planned this.
Maybe Adrian had too.
They hadn't come to congratulate us.
They had come to destroy us.
I looked at Damien.
For the first time since I'd met him, his expression wasn't calm.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes were cold.
He reached inside his jacket.
Pulled out two folders.
One was black.
The other was white.
He held both toward me.
I stared at them.
“What are those?”
He didn't answer immediately.
He simply placed the black folder in my left hand.
Then the white one is in my right.
I opened the black folder.
Marriage Certificate.
My name.
His name.
Today's date.
Legal.
Official.
Real.
Then I opened the white folder.
My breath caught.
Divorce Papers.
Already prepared.
Already signed by him.
I looked up.
Damien stepped closer.
The cameras were still flashing around us.
But somehow, I could hear only him.
“Sign this,” he whispered.
I stared at him.
“What?”
His eyes held mine.
“You wanted your father's company back. You wanted financial security. You wanted a way out.”
He glanced at the papers.
“This gives you one.”
My fingers tightened around the folders.
“One makes me your wife,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“And the other ends it.”
“Yes.”
Behind us, the reporters kept shouting.
Adrian was watching.
Natasha was smiling.
Damien didn't move.
For six months, I had believed this marriage was nothing more than a transaction.
A contract.
An exchange.
Five million dollars for six months of pretending.
But now, standing outside City Hall with the entire world watching, I realized something terrifying.
Damien Carter was giving me a choice.
Stay.
Or walk away.
And for the first time since he made me his offer, I wasn't sure which one I wanted.
Twenty cameras waited for my answer.
I looked down at the two folders in my hands.
Then I looked at my new husband.
And finally, I reached for a pen.
To be continued.
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