Chapter 3: The Unwilling Bride

Maya POV

I stood in front of the full-length mirror as a team of stylists pinned jewels into my hair and tightened the corset of my gown. The silk was heavy, and the diamonds were blinding.

My reflection stared back at me, expressionless.

The only image in my mind was Andre lying on that hospital bed.

I looked beautiful. Perfect, even.

Yet happiness felt miles away.

My eyes were empty.

“We’re done, ma’am,” one of the dressers said, flashing me a warm, pitying smile.

I nodded faintly as they walked me out to the grand hall, where the old man and the kind man from earlier were waiting.

Hmm.

So he works for the Wellingtons.

A third man stood with them — probably the grandson I was supposed to marry. But he looked older than I expected.

Not that I cared.

As long as Andre was saved.

The old man’s face brightened the moment he saw me. “You look stunning, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir.” I replied, my voice sounding hollow.

He handed me a leather file. “Sign here as the official wife of Ethan Wellington.”

I took it and read.

A marriage certificate.

My gaze fell on the signature already there.

Ethan Wellington.

I inhaled slowly… then signed my name next to his.

One last breath.

I handed it back.

“There,” he said cheerfully. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I forced a fake smile.

He passed the file to the supposed grandson, who bowed slightly and pulled out a camera.

Wait.

If that’s not Ethan… then where is he?

My eyes drifted to the kind man.

He’d been strangely quiet.

Could he be Ethan?

“Ethan couldn’t be here,” the old man said casually, noticing my confused expression. “He's a busy man. I hope you understand.”

Relief slipped through me.

Then—

Wait.

How could he not attend his own wedding?

But… was this even a wedding?

We took a few more photos to "prove" the ceremony happened, and that was it.

No vows. No rings. Nothing.

As I turned to leave, the kind man caught my eye. He leaned in, his voice low.

“Good luck on your marriage, Ms. Rivers. I hope you remain strong till your last day.” He tapped me on the back—a gesture that felt more like a warning than a blessing—and walked away.

I froze.

Until my last day?

What does that mean?

Mr. Wellington touched my shoulder. “I’ve assigned a driver to you, Mr. Josh. He will take you to your new home.” He leaned closer, his eyes turning sad. “Please, try to make your husband happy.”

With those cryptic words, he disappeared with his guards.

So.

I’m officially married.

Yay for me.

The driver led me to a car, and we rode in silence for what felt like forever.

Eventually, we stopped in front of another estate — smaller than the first, but still massive.

And the description was written boldly above the gate: "Wellington Crest"

He opened the door of car and I stepped out, still in my wedding dress, I  followed him inside.

At the entrance, he bowed slightly… and left.

I blinked.

What am I supposed to do now?

I tried the doorbell.

Nothing.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked the second time.

Still no answer.

Then I twisted the handle.

And it opened.

“Wow…” slipped from my lips.

The interior was even more breathtaking.

Was this a house or paradise?

I stepped in slowly, closing the door behind me, eyes roaming across the luxurious space.

Then—

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

A man descended the stairs.

The moment I saw him, I knew.

That’s Ethan.

The air seemed to leave the room. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen—sharp jawline, eyes like stormy seas.

“Are you deaf?” he snapped the moment he got close.

“I—I… uhm…” I stammered.

His gaze dropped to my gown.

He scoffed. “Another desperate one. Congratulations to me.”

He rolled his eyes and walked past.

I stood frozen.

Another… what?

Has he been married before?

What kind of marriage is this?

My phone buzzed.

I checked it.

My breath caught.

$1,000,000 credited.

This was real.

But…

Am I really going to live with him?

Someone who didn’t even show up to his own wedding?

Footsteps sounded again.

“That old man never gives up,” he muttered.

He glanced at me. "You can save yourself the stress and leave now... or stay and break like the others."

A mocking smile flickered across his lips before he walked upstairs.

Break like the others?

What have I gotten myself into?

I stared at the money notification again.

This is why I’m here.

Andre.

I’m doing this for you.

I exhaled and followed him upstairs, catching him just before he entered a room.

“Um… could you show me my room?” I asked boldly.

He glared at me and scoffed. "Get out of my house, woman. I'm getting sick of this. If you don't want your days here to be a torment, just get the fuck out," he growled.

"No" – the word came out of my mouth before I even stopped it. 

"No?" He raised a brow. 

"I'm staying," I whispered.

"Fine," he snapped, slamming his door shut. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

I stood there, trying to process what was really going on.

How had I gotten married to someone who doesn't want me here... that old man wouldn't just tell me anything.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned and spotted a room down the hallway.

I pushed it open.

It was beautiful — twice the size of my tiny apartment.

Honestly, I didn’t care where I slept.

I’d already been polite enough to ask.

I collapsed onto the bed, then quickly got up and unzipped the gown, letting it fall to the floor before climbing back in and pulling the duvet over myself.

I was exhausted and confused.

But also…

A little happy.

I had a million dollars now.

Andre, things will only get better from here.

I smiled faintly.

My eyes closed.

Just a short nap…

My body had no strength left.

My thoughts drifted back to him — but I pushed them away.

Please… whoever is listening in heaven,

guide me through these 100 days.

And keep Andre alive.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as sleep finally claimed me.