Chapter 3
1179 Words
The wedding was being held at Shawn's private island,
Crystal chandeliers hung above an audience of New York elite. Cameras flashed. Champagne flowed. A string quartet played something elegant and lovely. Everything was perfect—except the bride and groom.
The ceremony had begun, but Alexander Shawn wasn’t listening.
He stood at the altar, expression unreadable as always, surrounded by cameras, socialites, and press. To the world, he looked calm—every inch the billionaire groom. Inside, he was calculating every move… until the doors opened.
And time paused.
There she was.
She stepped in, her gown hugging her curves in the diamond silk and lace, her brown eyes fierce beneath the delicate veil. Her walk was graceful, delicate
She walked like a queen taking her time well
Alexander didn’t breathe.
He just kept staring at her lost in her beauty
He’d always known she was beautiful, of course. But today? She was something else. Not soft or romantic. She was stunning in a way that punched the breath from his lungs. Dangerous. Unreachable.
For the first time since their deal began, something unplanned slipped beneath his skin:
Curiosity.
She reached the altar, eyes locking with him. No smile. No warmth. But she stared at him because he looked so handsome, his eyes blue as the ocean,he saw it—just for a second—a flicker of hesitation. A question in her gaze: Are you feeling this too?
He almost answered. Almost reached for her hand.
But then the priest began, and they both blinked back into character.
"Alexander and Isabella, today you stand before your loved ones..."
Neither was listening to the vows. Their audience smiled, blissfully unaware that this marriage was a deal sealed in ink and pride, not affection.
When it came time to speak, Alexander took her hand.
It was smaller than he remembered. Warmer. He tightened his grip—not out of love, but out of instinct.
"I, Alexander Shawn," he said, eyes locked on hers, "take you, Isabella Cruz, to be my wife. To honor this contract. To protect what we’ve built. And to tolerate your temper… until our time is up."
Soft laughter rolled through the guests.
She arched her brow. “You’ll need more than tolerance.”
Then she spoke her vows, her voice low and calm, with razor edges.
"I, Isabella Cruz, take you, Alexander Shawn, as my husband. To keep the peace in public. To test your patience in private. And to remind you every day that I said 'yes' for my father… not for you.”
He almost smiled.
They were perfect. Perfectly dangerous for each other.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
They moved together. Hesitant. Not lovers, not strangers—something far more complicated. He lifted her veil slowly, and her red hair flowed flawlessly with the air he expected her to turn her cheek.
But she didn’t.
And for one moment, their eyes softened. The tension flickered—not gone, just… shifted.
Their lips touched.
What was meant to be a cold formality sent a strange heat through Alexander’s chest. It was brief, polite. But it lingered just a second too long.
Isabella felt her heart beating fast
They pulled back.
Neither said a word.
But as they turned to face the applauding crowd, Alexander leaned just close enough to whisper in her ear.
“You’re playing with fire, Mrs. Shawn.”
She didn’t look at him. Just smiled for the cameras. “Good. I hope you burn.”
And just like that, they were married.
Not out of love.
But something had shifted in the air—barely there, barely spoken.
A spark.
And sparks, as Alexander knew too well… were always the beginning of something dangerous.
The wedding reception was being held with so many elite people.cameras flashes people swimming in with designers cloth
Isabella Cruz’s spotted some few people she knows and gave them a smile and light nod but she also spotted her father raising his head so high like this is the best thing that ever happened in their life.
her stomach turned,everything was crazy how is she suppose to handle this for 2 years
She moved from table to table beside Alexander Shawn, her new husband and longtime rival and enemy, their arms linked together each feeling the sensation of their skin touching each other—like they’d chosen each other. But every smile she gives is annoying to her. Does she have to smile like a robot?
“You’re both glowing!” one guest beamed.
Isabella snapped out of her thoughts
Alexander leaned in slightly, playing the part of the doting husband. “That’s why love conquers right, darling?”
She turned to him with a dazzling smile and a voice like ice. “Right. Love. Or a well-executed strategy.”
The woman laughed, unaware of the meaning beneath every word. “You two are going to have the most beautiful children.”
He responded smoothly. “I’m sure they’ll inherit her fire. And my ability to win arguments.”
She squeezed his arm—just a little too hard. “If they inherit your ego, I’ll start praying now.”
The guest wandered off, charmed. But Isabella was done pretending.
She pulled Alexander aside into a quiet corner behind the floral archway, away from the crowd.
“Is this what the next two years will look like?” she hissed. “You mocking me in front of strangers with that fake smile?”
He raised a brow, tone even. “It’s called keeping up appearances, Mrs. Shawn.”
“Don’t call me that like you earned the right,” she snapped.
“I earned the right the moment you signed that contract.”
Her eyes flared. “You think this is a game? You humiliate me at our own wedding—”
“Correction: your performance humiliated you. I was perfectly polite.”
She stepped closer, her voice low but with fury
“I hope you choke on the champagne”
He smiled . “If I do, and die, who do you think they will blame, the society will say ‘oh’ not married up to one day and he died but don't worry even if I'm dead I will be watching over you because you are one hell of a wife .”
Their eyes locked, sparks flying in the silence between them.
She hated how tall he stood. How calm he remained.
How she still thought about the wedding kiss
They heard someone approaching—his aunt, all smiles and pearls.
In a flash, she plastered on a sweet expression and slipped her hand into
Alexander’s.
“Oh, you two look so in love!” the woman gushed.
Alexander didn’t miss a beat. “We’re adjusting,” he said. “Marriage always begins with a little... friction.”
She smiled like a queen.
And whispered,
just loud enough for only him to hear:
“Keep pushing me, Alexander. I don’t break easily.
Of course you don't bella “Alexander smiled”
- Writer
