Chapter3
1178 Words
“Elena, are you even listening?”
Mia waved a hand in front of my face, her hazel eyes narrowing with concern.
“Sorry,” I muttered, pulling my focus back to the café table. The mug of hot chocolate in front of me had long gone cold, untouched except for the swirls I’d absentmindedly made in the whipped cream.
Mia leaned forward, crossing her arms. “You’ve been weird ever since your dad called the other day. What’s going on?”
I hesitated, my chest tightening under the weight of what I hadn’t told her. If anyone would understand, it was Mia. She’d been my anchor through every storm, the sister I never had. But how do you tell someone you’ve agreed to marry a stranger to save your father’s company?
“It’s complicated,” I said finally, staring at the table.
Mia snorted. “Complicated? That’s what you say when you’re choosing between two paint colors. This—” she gestured to me, lowering her voice “—looks like something bigger. Spill.”
I swallowed hard, glancing around the bustling café. The hum of conversation and clinking dishes filled the air, making my secret feel even heavier.
“I…” My words caught in my throat. “I’m getting married.”
Mia froze, her mouth slightly open. “Married?” she echoed, louder than I’d have liked. “To who? When? What the hell, Elena?”
“It’s not what you think,” I said quickly, heat rushing to my face. “It’s not… real.”
Mia blinked, her confusion deepening. “Not real? What does that even mean?”
Before I could explain, my phone buzzed on the table. The name flashing on the screen made my stomach drop.
Alexander Wells.
“Who’s that?” Mia asked, craning her neck to see.
“No one,” I said, snatching the phone and silencing the call. But it was too late.
Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Elena. Who. Is. That?”
Taking a deep breath, I looked away. “He’s… the man I’m marrying.”
Hours later, I stood outside Alexander’s penthouse, my conversation with Mia replaying in my mind. Her reaction had been a mix of disbelief, anger, and something I couldn’t quite place—disappointment, maybe?
“You’re seriously going through with this?” she’d asked, her voice sharp with concern.
I hadn’t answered, and now, as I stared at the towering glass doors, her words echoed louder than ever.
The doorman nodded politely as he opened the door, and I stepped inside. The elevator ride to the top floor felt like a climb to my own execution, the air growing thinner with every second.
When the doors slid open, Alexander was waiting.
“Elena,” he said smoothly, his tone as calm as ever, though there was a flicker of impatience in his sharp blue eyes.
“You called,” I said, stepping into the expansive living room. The space was sleek and sterile, all cold marble and glass—a reflection of its owner.
He gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat.”
“I’ll stand,” I said, crossing my arms. “What’s this about?”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightening. “You’re not exactly in a position to be questioning me.”
The words stung, but I held my ground. “I deserve to know why I’m here.”
For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Fine. There’s an event tomorrow evening—a charity gala. It’s our first public appearance as an engaged couple. You’ll need a dress.”
“A dress?” I repeated, disbelief creeping into my voice. “That’s what this is about?”
“It’s not just about the dress,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s about perception. The world will be watching, and I need you to look the part.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.
“There’s a stylist waiting for you upstairs,” he continued, already turning away. “I suggest you cooperate. The car will pick you up at eight sharp.”
And just like that, I was dismissed.
The stylist was a whirlwind of fabric and pins, her French accent lilting as she muttered about my “delicate features” and “unfortunate posture.” By the time she was done, I barely recognized myself in the mirror.
The emerald green dress hugged my curves, the rich color bringing out the warmth in my hazel eyes. My usually unruly brown hair was swept into an elegant chignon, and the makeup was subtle yet striking.
“You look stunning,” a voice said from the doorway.
I turned to see Victor, his expression unreadable.
“Thanks,” I said quietly, smoothing the fabric of the dress.
Victor stepped closer, his brown eyes softening as they met mine. “You don’t have to lose yourself in all of this, Elena. Remember that.”
His words caught me off guard, their sincerity disarming. Before I could respond, he added, “You deserve to be seen for who you are, not just as part of some… arrangement.”
The air between us grew heavy, but before I could reply, Alexander’s voice called from downstairs, sharp and commanding. “Victor!”
Victor straightened, his expression hardening. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice carefully neutral as he left the room.
The gala was everything I’d expected—opulent, overwhelming, and utterly suffocating. The lights were blinding, the champagne flowed endlessly, and the whispers about Alexander’s mysterious fiancée were impossible to ignore.
I stood by his side, my hand resting lightly on his arm as we moved through the crowd. Alexander played the role of the charming billionaire effortlessly, flashing polite smiles and exchanging meaningless pleasantries.
But beneath his polished exterior, I could feel the tension simmering.
And then I saw her.
A woman in a red dress approached, her blonde hair cascading over one shoulder. She didn’t even glance at me as she greeted Alexander, her voice dripping with familiarity.
“Alex,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s been too long.”
Alexander’s expression didn’t falter, but I noticed the way his jaw clenched.
“Victoria,” he said smoothly, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it.
The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something important.
“Elena,” Alexander said suddenly, his tone sharp. “Why don’t you grab us some champagne?”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
I hesitated, my chest tightening, but before I could move, Victoria’s gaze shifted to me.
“Oh,” she said, her smile widening. “So this is the fiancée.”
Her tone was sweet, but her eyes were anything but.
As I walked away, her laughter rang out behind me—a sound that felt like a warning I couldn’t ignore.
- Writer
