Chapter 3

Mason's POV

Susie finally lost her patience and reached out to snatch my bag. "Mason, what's with the sarcasm? We already got our marriage certificate! I'm your legal wife! Fine, I admit I was at fault for not discussing what happened today with you beforehand. Is that what you want to hear?"

Her tone softened as she stepped forward and tried to wrap her arms around my waist. "Stop making a fuss. The guests are still waiting outside. Let's go out and explain to everyone that it was just a prank. The toasts are about to begin, and my parents are still waiting for you."

I took a step back, avoiding her hands. Her hands grasped at nothing, and she held them awkwardly in midair.

"There's nothing left to explain." I looked at her. "Susie, it's been three years. I'm tired."

She looked at me, stunned. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm saying the wedding is off. We don't have to toast the guests either." I pointed toward the groom's shirt lying in the trash can. "What you tell your parents' relatives is up to you."

Susie widened her eyes, and her voice turned shrill. "Mason, what do you take marriage for? You can't just call off the wedding because you feel like it! We've already registered our marriage!"

"Even so, we can get divorced." After saying that, I opened the door and walked out.

Behind me, Susie screamed my name frantically. She chased after me in her high heels. "Mason, if you walk out that door, don't ever come back!" she screamed hysterically down the corridor.

I didn't return to the new home Susie and I shared. The down payment on that apartment was 200 thousand dollars. My family had contributed 120 thousand dollars, while the Smiths had put in 80 thousand dollars.

Both our names were on the property deed. And for the entire six months we had been living there, the monthly mortgage of 1200 dollars had come straight out of my salary account.

I drove straight back to the studio apartment Susie and I had rented before getting married. I tossed my travel bag onto the sofa, sat down on the carpet, and lit a cigarette.

When I turned on my phone, I found dozens of missed calls, all from Susie and her mother, Aria Stetson. On WhatsApp, Susie had sent me many messages. First, they sounded furious. Then, they were accusatory. And finally, they were bossy.

"Mason, you sure have grown a spine. Did you turn off your phone?"

"The hotel manager just came to ask me to settle the bill. The outstanding balance is 19 thousand dollars. Transfer the money to me."

"The wedding planners are also asking us for three thousand dollars to dismantle everything."

"Get back here and pay for everything! My parents are still in the hotel lobby! How are they going to show anyone their faces now?"

The last message had been sent five minutes ago. "Mason, I'm giving you half an hour. If you don't transfer the money, I'll go to your parents' place and cause a scene!"

I bit down on my cigarette and let out a scoff. She wanted me to pay 19 thousand dollars for the banquet and another three thousand dollars for the wedding company to dismantle the decorations.

When we had chosen this five-star hotel, Susie had insisted on the most expensive package, saying it was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion and she wasn't going to settle for anything less. Jeremy had even helped pick out the menu. It was packed with expensive seafood and imported liquor.

I had paid the five-thousand-dollar deposit before we got married. And the contract had clearly stated that the remaining balance had to be settled on the afternoon of the wedding itself.

I stubbed out my cigarette and immediately called the hotel's sales manager, Joseph Walker. He picked up after just two rings. He sounded as if he were on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Mr. Montgomery! Thank goodness you've finally answered! Where are you right now? What are we supposed to do about this mess of a wedding banquet?"

"Joseph." I leaned back against the sofa, my tone calm and even. "Whoever enjoyed your services at today's lunch banquet is the person you should collect the outstanding balance from."

Joseph grew anxious. "But sir, that's not how this works! You're the contracting party!"

I replied coolly, "Who signed for the 20 extra bottles of imported liquor and those few additional seafood dishes that were ordered at the last minute?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Several seconds passed before Joseph finally drew a sharp breath. "I-It was the bride who signed for those."

"Exactly," I replied coldly. "Whoever signed for them is the one who ordered them. Bill her. If she refuses to pay, your hotel can report it to the police or take legal action against her."