Chapter 2: The Wedding ring.
734 Words
The wedding dress was white.
But it didn’t feel like mine.
It had pearls, lace, and a price tag I couldn’t read.
Three makeup artists were fixing my face.
And I still felt like I was borrowing someone else’s life.
“Mrs. Cole,” Ms. Reed said behind me.
“You have 10 minutes. The car is waiting.”
Mrs. Cole.
That name again.
It sounded like a lie.
The chapel was small.
Just white flowers, 20 chairs, and a priest who looked like he’d done this 100 times.
No family. No friends.
Just Adrian, standing at the altar in a black suit.
He didn’t look at me when I walked in.
Not until I was right in front of him.
And when he did... his jaw tightened.
Like he was seeing me for the first time.
“Do you, Adrian Cole, take Eva Monroe—”
“I do,” he cut the priest off. No hesitation.
“Do you, Eva Monroe, take Adrian Cole—”
I stared at his hand.
No ring.
No emotion.
Just a contract with a signature.
My brother’s face flashed in my head.
Eli in room 204.
“...I do,” I whispered.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
That was it.
No kiss.
Clause 4.2.
Adrian turned and walked out.
Just like that.
Married.
---
The ring came after.
We were in the car. Black. Tinted windows.
He pulled out a small black box and dropped it in my lap.
Didn’t even look at me.
“Wear it,” he said. “For photos. For grandma.”
I opened it.
Diamond. Huge. Cold.
It weighed more than my entire life.
“It’s beautiful,” I said quietly.
“It’s 4 million,” he replied. “Don’t lose it.”
4 million.
On my finger.
While my brother was fighting for his life in a hospital bed.
I slid it on.
It was too big.
It kept slipping.
Adrian noticed.
Without a word, he took my hand.
His fingers were warm.
He adjusted the ring. Pushed it up to fit.
For 3 seconds, he held my hand.
And my heart forgot how to breathe.
Then his phone rang.
He let go.
“Grandma,” he answered. And just like last night, his whole face softened.
“Eva’s right here,” he said. And looked at me.
“Put her on speaker?”
I nodded.
The same frail voice came through.
“Sweetheart! Are you married now?”
I looked at Adrian.
He was watching me again.
That same... hopeful look.
“We are, Grandma,” I said. And smiled.
“A real wedding. Just like you wanted.”
There was a pause.
Then she laughed. A weak, happy laugh.
“Oh, I’m so happy. Take care of each other, okay?”
“Okay,” Adrian said.
But he was still looking at me.
When the call ended, the car went silent again.
The warmth was gone.
“We’ll take separate rooms,” Adrian said suddenly. Staring out the window.
“Two wings. You won’t see me unless it’s for family events.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Clause 4.2.”
He nodded once.
And that was it.
---
The mansion was even bigger in daylight.
A maid showed me to the West Wing.
My room had a view of the garden.
White sheets. White walls. White everything.
On the bed was a card.
No name. Just handwriting.
_The kitchen is downstairs.
There’s food in the fridge.
—A_
I laughed. A real laugh.
The cold billionaire who paid 50 million for a wife...
left me a note about food.
I opened the closet.
More dresses. More shoes. More things I didn’t earn.
And at the bottom of the drawer...
A photo.
Adrian.
Maybe 10 years younger.
Laughing.
With his arm around a girl.
And my brother Eli, sitting in a wheelchair beside them.
My blood went cold.
What was Eli doing with Adrian 10 years ago?
Why didn’t he ever tell me?
The door clicked.
Adrian was standing in the doorway.
Watching me hold the photo.
For the first time, he didn’t look cold.
He looked scared.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
“Don’t ask.”
But it was too late.
Because the contract said no questions.
And I already had a thousand.
*TO BE CONTINUED...*
- Writer
