Chapter 8

The next morning, Calvin put on his tuxedo and, flanked by his friends, headed to the hotel.

Iris cried the whole way. Calvin couldn't stand to see her upset, so he let her ride with him in the lead car.

When they arrived, Calvin was met with a crowd of relatives he hadn't seen in years.

Every one of them was a rising star in the Bennett family, people whose names he knew well. Some had once looked down on him for being born out of wedlock, but now they were all here. Calvin turned to his friends with a smug smirk.

"See this? Every Bennett who ever sneered at me is here. They've heard I'm on the rise and now they want to get close. They're all dressed up, trying to look important.

"Where's Claire? Why isn't she here yet?"

No sooner had he spoken than the young elites milling near the entrance began flowing into the hotel lobby. Not one of them even glanced his way.

"Come on, the draw's about to start!"

"I hope I get picked! It'd save our branch of the family!"

"To marry Claire and get a massive reward? Who wouldn't want that?"

Calvin watched the crowd pushing forward, then snagged one man by the arm. "What's going on? What draw?"

"You haven't heard?" the man said, looking at him curiously. "Your ex-fiancée, Claire, is inside holding a lottery to choose a husband. Whoever's name she draws, she marries."

"What?"

Calvin could hardly believe his ears. "A marriage lottery? Has she lost her mind? She's my fiancée—who else would she want?"

"You're joking, right? She called off the engagement and made a public announcement. Didn't you get the memo? Every eligible Bennett man is in the running… except you. You're out."

Calvin stood frozen, a cold dread seeping into his veins.

"That's impossible… She wouldn't."

He shoved his way into the hotel lobby, rage speeding his steps.

On the stage stood Claire, poised and serene, with George at her side.

"Welcome, everyone, to the union of the Aniston and Bennett families. Today's ceremony will be a bit unconventional," George announced. "Claire has decided to select her husband by lot from among the eligible Bennett men present. Anyone within a suitable age range may participate. Your names are already in the box. Whomever she draws will be today's groom. Furthermore, to celebrate Claire's marriage, I have decided: the man she marries will receive twenty percent of the Bennett Group's shares!"

"Twenty percent?"

Calvin saw red. He had spent years currying favor with his grandfather—and had been granted a mere five percent! And now, marrying Claire came with twenty?

"No, Grandpa! What is this? A lottery? I'm Claire's fiancé! Why a lottery?"

He tried to charge the stage but was held back by attendants.

Claire lifted her gaze, her expression cool and detached, and looked directly at him.

"Calvin, I told you. Our engagement is over. The man I marry today will not be you."

Seeing her utter indifference, Calvin's fury exploded. "Claire, what game are you playing? I'm right here! If you're not marrying me, then who? You've been obsessed with me for ten years. I don't believe for a second you'll marry anyone else!"

"Enough! You forfeited your right to speak! You had your chance and you threw it away. Since you don't want the Bennett shares, they'll go to someone who does!"

George's voice boomed through the hall. Calvin gritted his teeth, frustration boiling inside him. He didn't want Claire—but he desperately wanted those shares.

"Proceed, Claire," George commanded.

Below, Calvin's friends muttered among themselves, still in denial.

"Go on, draw! Let's see what stunt she's pulling."

"I bet the box only has Calvin's name in it."

"She's been in love with him for a decade. She could never marry anyone else."

Ignoring them, Claire reached into the ornate lottery box and drew a single bamboo slip without hesitation.

The entire room held its breath.

She looked down at the name inscribed on it.

Jordan.

Her hand stilled. Jordan? That was impossible. How could his name be in there?

George blinked, equally surprised. The draw was supposed to be for the younger generation. How had his own son's name gotten into the mix?

Below the stage, a man in a impeccably tailored suit sat with elegant composure, a faint smile on his lips.

Today's groom was never going to be anyone else.

It was always going to be him.