The Ceo's Reluctant Wife

Chapter 4: The Countdown Begins

The next three weeks turned into a blur that Ella barely recognised as her own life. It started with an email from Alex's assistant, someone named Rebecca. The Email contained the schedule for their wedding.

Ella opened it on her cracked phone screen while sitting in the hospital cafeteria, cold coffee in front of her. Her Mom asleep upstairs after another round of tests. The attachment was a color coded spreadsheet, dress fittings, cake tasting, hair, photography session and so on. Dates, times and addresses, most of them in Manhattan or at the Harrington estate upstate.

She stared at it until the screen dimmed. Then she forwarded it to Victor with a simple message. "Looks okay. Thank you."

He replied almost immediately. "What ever you need, just ask. We will take care of everything."

She didn't answer. What was there to say?

The first fitting was two days later at a bridal boutique in SoHo that looked more like a gallery than a*****e, white walls, spotlights, racks of dresses that probably cost more than her yearly salary. Rebecca met her ar the door, clipboard in hand, smile professional and thin.

"Ms. Thompson. Right on time. Mr. Harrington prefers efficiency."

Ella managed a nod. "Call me Ella, parade."

Rebecca didn't. "The designer's waiting. We have four gowns selected based on your measurements. Mr. Harrington requested nothing too... traditional."

Meaning no big princess ballgown. No veil that screamed virgin bride. Got it. They started with the first dress. It was simple but elegant. Ella stood on the little platform in front of three mirrors while the fitter pinned and tugged. It fit like it was made for her, which it basically was.

Rebecca circled slowly, eyes critical. "Too soft. Makes it look like a real wedding."

Ella caught her own reflection, pale, eyes too big in her face. She looked like a kid playing dress up.

The next dress was beautiful but when she moved it clung in ways that made her cheeks burn.

"Too sexy," Rebecca decided. "We don't want to give the wrong impression." Wrong impression to who? The guests? The media? Alex?

The third dress was a structured A-line with a high neck and mong sleeves, elegant, almost severe. Rebecca nodded approval.

Ella stared at herself. She looked like she was attending a state funeral. They settled on a fourth option none of them had loved at first. A soft chiffon gown with a deep V neckline, delicate spaghetti straps, and a flowing skirt that moved when she walked. It was romantic without being over the top, sexy without trying too hard.

Rebecca hesitated, then agreed. "it will do."

Ella changed back into her jeans and sweater feeling numb. The dress was beautiful. She hated that she liked it. That night she called her mom from the subway platform, wind whipping her hair around her face.

"How was the fitting, honey?"

"It was... fine. The dress is pretty."

Mom's voice was tired but warm. "Send me a picture when you can. I want to see my girl."

"I will." Ella's throat tightened. "How are you feeling?"

"Better today. They started the new meds. No nausea yet." Ella was quiet.

"Sweetheart, I'm okay with anything that keeps you from worrying about money. And Victor's been nothing but kind. If this is what it takes..."

"It feels wrong," Ella whispered.

"It feels like surviving," Mok said gently. "And that's enough."

Ella closed her eyes. "I love you."

"Love you more. Get some rest."

She hung up and stood on the cold platform a long time, watching trains come and go.

Alex, meanwhile, was doing everything he could to pretend none of it was happening. He threw himself into work, sixteen hour days, back to back meetings, late nights at the office. He flew to London for forty eight hours to close a deal he could have handled remotely. Anything to avoid the estate, avoid Victor's knowing looks, avoid thinking about the quiet girl who was about to become his wife. But the wedding kept creeping in anyway.

Rebecca forwarded him fabric swatches for approval. He replied with a single word, Fine. The florist sent mood boards, whites and greens, nothing to colourful. He didn't open the attachment m

The photographer wanted a location for engagement shots. Alex told Rebecca to handle it. No shots.

And then came the day he couldn't avoid, the menu tasting at the estate. He drove up himself on a Friday afternoon. The gates opened automatically, the long driveway winding through bare trees. The house was too big for any one family. He had grown up here. Hated it most days.

Victor met him in the lobby lobby. "Good. You're here."

"Against my better judgement."

His father ignored that. "Tasting's in the dining room. Ella's already here."

Alex's stomach tightened. He hadn't seen her since that daybin the office. He walked into the dining room and stopped. She was standing by the long table, talking quietly to the chef. Same ponytail, same simple clothes. She looked up when he entered, and for a second their eyes locked. Hers widened slightly, then dropped.

"Hi.," she said.

"Hey."

The chef clapped his hands. "Perfect! Everyone's here. Let's begin." They sat across from each other at the massive table.

Alex ate mechanically, barely tasting it. Ella picked at her food, nodding politely when the chef asked questions. Rebecca took notes on her tablet. Victor watched them both with that unreadable expression he had perfected over decades.

Halfway through the entrees, the chef stepped out to check on dessert. Ella cleared her throat. "The salmon's good."

Alex glance at her. "You barely ate it."

"I'm not very hungry," she said.

He leaned back in his chairman "Nervous?"

She met his eyes. "Aren't you?"

He almost laughed. "Not about the food."

She looked down at her plate. "Right."

Victor excused himself to take a call. And then it was just them.

Alex drummed his fingers on the table. "Look, we should probably set some ground rules."

Ella's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Ground rules?"

"Yeah." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "After the wedding, we live separate lives. You get a wing at the penthouse. I will be... elsewhere most night. We show up together for public stuffs, whatever Rebecca schedules. But privately? We stay out of each other's way."

She set her fork down carefully. "Okay."

He waited for more. Argument. Questions. Anything.

She just nodded. "That works."

He frowned. "You're not going to fight me on it?"

"Why would I?" Her voice was quiet. "I don't want to be in your way."

Something about the way she said it, like she genuinely believed she was an inconvenience.

"You're getting a lot out of this," he said. "Money, security and your mom taken care of. The least you could do is pretend to give a damn."

Her eyes flashed. First real emotion he had seem from her since the office.

"I do give a damn," she said. "About my mom and keeping my word to your father. I'm not pretending anything. I'm doing what I said I would do."

"And what about me?" The words slipped out before he could stop them.

She blinked. "What about you?"

He didn't know how to answer that. Didn't know why he had asked.

The chef came back with dessert and they ate in silence again.

Later, when everyone else had gone, Ella stood in the garden wrapped in her coat, staring at the empty fountain.

Alex found her there. He hadn't meant to. He had been heading to his car. "You're still here."

She turned. "Waiting for my ride."

"I can have the driver..."

"It's fine. Victor arranged it."

He nodded. Stood there awkwardly, hands in his pockets. "You don't have to do this," he said suddenly.

She looked at him. "What?"

"Marry me. If you want out, say it now. I will tell him it's off."

She studied his face like she was trying to figure out if he meant it. For a second, he thought she might say yes.

Then she shook her head. "I can't."

"Because of your mom."

"Yes."

He nodded. "Right." He turned to go.

"Alex," he stopped.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For offering."

He didn't reply. Just walked to his car. As he drove away, he caught her reflection in the rearview. He turned up the heat and gripped the wheel tighter.

Two weeks left

And he already hated how much space she was taking up in his head.