Chapter Eleven

The familiar deep tone in which he spoke to me in made me recognize who it was. I thought he was missing?

My thoughts consumed me even as he lifted up the veil and my eyes tried to adjust to the environment.

Indeed, it was him standing in front of me in a white suit that made him looked good. Too good that he looked more of a real husband to be than a fake one.

I felt nothing but spite as I stared at him. He should have disappeared until the wedding was over, that way I would he humiliated and won't get married to him.

"Take her hand in yours," The priest clad in a black gown ordered in an Irish accent and he did. "Damien Jones, do you take Heaven Harper to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?"

As long as we both what? Sir, that should be as long as this facade lasts.

I was sure he was almost nauseating as it took heartbeat before