Chapter 2

~Emily's POV~

I closed my eyes instinctively, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through my chest.

Then something soft brushed against my cheek.

By the time I opened my eyes, he had already pulled away.

Applause erupted behind us, and the cameramen were already clicking away, immortalizing the biggest lie of my life. But all I could hear was the silence between us.

He didn’t look at me. Not once.

Not when we signed the documents.

Not when Richard clapped him on the back and muttered something about "salvaging the family."

And definitely not when I tripped slightly on the steps outside the cathedral and he didn’t bother to catch me.

My cheeks ached from fake smiles. My heart felt like it had been sold to the highest bidder.

The car ride home was silent.

Home. The word settled in my chest like poison.

I stared blankly out the window, watching the world blur past like I was trapped in someone else’s story.

When we arrived, his mansion rose in front of us like something out of a dream, too big, too perfect, too cold. The flowers lining the driveway mocked me with their brightness.

This was my new home.

And I already hated it.

The butler opened the door. Alexander stepped in first, unbuttoning his jacket like he’d just closed a deal, not married his brother’s fiancée.

I hovered at the doorway, drowning in the weight of my gown and the suffocating air of indifference.

Alexander Westwood didn’t say a word. He walked straight to the minibar, poured himself a drink like this was just another business deal, like we hadn’t just stood in front of a hundred guests, pretending we were in love.

He looked every bit the powerful CEO, ice in a perfectly tailored suit.

I stood frozen, fists clenched around my veil, the ache in my chest spreading like wildfire.

“Do you always look this calm after marrying your brother’s fiancée?” I asked, my voice low.

He didn’t turn around. “Do you make a habit of pledging your life to cowards?”

I flinched.

“What… what are you trying to say?” My voice cracked. “Ethan would never abandon me like that. There has to be a reason he didn’t show up.”

Even as I said it, the words felt hollow.

Alexander finally turned to face me. His dark amber eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, I saw something flicker behind them.

I couldn’t tell.

But I hated it.

A single tear slipped down my cheek.

What possible reason could Ethan have to disappear without a word? On what should’ve been the most important day of our lives?

I yanked my phone from my clutch and dialed his number again.

It rang once.

Twice.

Voicemail.

I tried again. And again.

Nothing.

The silence hit harder than any spoken excuse.

Rage and heartbreak twisted inside me. With a strangled cry, I hurled the phone across the room. It shattered on the marble floor, pieces skidding like fragments of my dignity.

My knees buckled.

I sank to the ground, helpless against the sobs that tore out of me. I didn’t care how pathetic I looked. I didn’t care that he saw.

“Ethan ruined everything,” I choked, the words broken and soaked in grief.

A hand appeared in front of me.

I looked up.

Alexander stood there, unreadable as ever. His hand was steady, but his jaw ticked like he was restraining something.

Then, slowly, he pulled it back. Formed a fist. Turned on his heel.

And walked away.

I crumbled.

Curled into myself, I sobbed until my throat went raw. If I could reach into my chest and tear out the aching organ, I would’ve.

After a few minutes, I heard footsteps again.

Through my blurry vision, I saw the black polish of Alexander’s shoes. My eyes trailed up to find him adjusting his cufflinks.

“I’m heading to the office,” he said flatly.

I said nothing.

Only Alexander Westwood would go into the office mere hours after marrying his brother’s bride.

The door creaked. He paused, like he was waiting for me to say something.

I didn’t.

He left.

Alone again, I tried to force sense into the mess. I replayed every memory with Ethan, every moment, every kiss, trying to find a sign.

There was nothing.

---

Darkness blanketed the room when I opened my eyes. I had dozed off on the couch, my limbs sore and stiff. The events of the day returned in a rush, and I winced.

The puffiness in my eyes and the hollow in my chest were impossible to ignore.

I reached out instinctively for my phone then remembered it was in pieces.

A flash of light caught my attention. I turned and nearly jolted upright.

Alexander lay on the other end of the couch, his head tipped back, snoring softly. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin.

My hand hovered over the phone beside him. Sleek. Black. Cold, like its owner.

The screen lit up.

4:59 a.m.

Then:

5:00 a.m.

The alarm blared.

I yelped, fumbling to silence it. The phone slipped through my fingers before I managed to shut it off.

Alexander stirred, blinking groggily. His gaze landed on me. The frown settled on his face.

“Why are you holding my phone?”

His voice was deep and irritated and still managed to send a shiver down my spine.

“I—I was trying to turn off the alarm,” I whispered.

“Emily.” His jaw tightened. “Give it back.”

I handed it over. He snatched it from my grip.

“Don’t ever touch my phone again.”

He stood and walked away, the lights flicking on as he moved. But something else caught my eye.

A small box on the table. Clean. Untouched.

I opened it slowly.

Inside was a brand new phone.

I stared at it, stunned. And then, without meaning to, my eyes drifted toward the hallway Alexander had disappeared into.

My brows furrowed in confusion.

He had bought me a phone?