Chapter Two: Bride

Jameson's POV

Seated on my wheelchair by the window side of my room, I found myself lost in my thoughts. My life before that tragic accident forcefully snatched my perfect life away from me.

And now, I'm reduced to this.

My fists clenched tightly, my heart aching painfully as my eyes burned red.

The sky was clear and the birds flew freely, I felt as if I was the only one suffering in this world and nobody seemed to care.

Amidst my thoughts, the soft knock on the door followed by the opening click made me aware that someone had entered. I pretended not to notice, kept staring outside the window.

“Son.” My mum called.

“I want to be alone, please.” My tone was laced with coldness. She must be here with my Dad, they didn't even inform me that they were coming to my house.

The accident was more of their fault, wanting a daughter-in-law by all means. Making me dating Clara for show, and now this had to happen. I was drunk that night, learnt that my girlfriend, Clara was cheating on me. I was upset and drove crazily to her apartment, and this accident happened.

“Jameson, we had an agreement and…”

“Come off it, mum,” I snapped, pressing a button on my wheelchair and it turned me around.

She stood by the door, holding a file in her hand, wearing that same pitiful look that made my blood boil.

“A lot has happened already but you're still thinking about marriage?” I scoffed bitterly, knowing what she wanted to say, “Because of you and Dad's nagging, I dated that b!tch. Now are you glad with the outcome?” I demanded, my heart pounding.

“I know, Jameson. Honey, I know.” She cooed, stepping closer and sat on the bed.

“Your Dad and I dragged you into this, yes, and we're deeply sorry about that. But it's been three months already. You can't keep living like this.” She said gently, as if losing your legs was something you just ‘get over.’

The door opened the next second and my Dad strolled in with his signature stoic expression.

My mum continued, “You know how important it is for you to get married at the moment. Kylie is engaged and her wedding will be happening anytime soon. The family company might be passed down to her.”

I shot both of them a disbelieving look, “You still want me to marry Clara after what she had caused?”

“It doesn't have to be her. You only have to be married,” My Dad said curtly.

I gritted my teeth, already aware of how important the contract was for the company and it needs me to be married. Still, I couldn't help but feel upset about it.

“I can't date Clara again talkless of marrying her. When I've a partner, I'll inform you about it.” I told them dismissively, reaching to turn my wheelchair away.

"I’ve already arranged a collaboration with Dawson Enterprises. You'll be marrying their youngest daughter." My dad informed, handing me the file which my mother had been holding.

I skimmed through the contents, my face unreadable before letting out a dry, humorless laugh.

"And what makes you think I’ll agree to this?”

They didn't say anything but their expressions were as if I've to agree to this. My expression turned into a dangerous glare and I clenched my words;

“I'm not fvcking marrying any goddamn bride you have for me.” With that, I wheeled out of the room.

"Jameson!" They called after me, but I didn’t stop. I wheeled faster down the hallway, but they quickly caught up.

"There’s nothing you can do about it," my Dad said sternly. "It’s already decided. And if you hadn’t been so reckless, if you hadn’t lived such a flamboyant, womanizing life, none of this would have happened. You would’ve found a woman worthy of being a wife."

I froze, stunned by the cruelty of his words.

"Simon!" my mother gasped, turning on him angrily. "How could you say that to your own son?”

The truth was bitter indeed.

Being in an arranged marriage was something I had expected but not like this. The company wasn't in any danger. I only had to get married to skyrocket our status worldwide.

That could have waited, but it seemed clear that the Dawsons had probably rushed this arrangement and I can't delay anymore. Because it was more to our favor than them.

Their argument faded into the background as I asked hollowly, "When is the wedding?"

A heavy silence fell over us.

My mother was the one who answered—and before I knew it, the day arrived.

I found myself, waiting for a woman, who I've never met in my life at the altar. I didn't bother looking at her face. And we exchanged our vows.

“Do you, Aria Dawson, take Jameson Blackwell to be your lawfully wedded husband…?”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, that was when I glanced up at her. Her eyes flickered to mine, but I looked away before our eyes could meet.

“I do,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

The officiant turned to me, but my reply came swiftly, “I do.” It sounded rehearsed.

The ceremony ended as quickly as it began, with no fanfare, no applause—just the muffled murmurs of the few guests in attendance.