Chapter 3: Married again.

Chapter 3 

Joye

"Absolutely not," I said, crossing my arms.

My mother sighed, the same tired sigh she'd been giving me all week since the video of my canceled wedding had made its rounds online. "Joye, please. Just meet him. That's all we're asking."

"I just left the altar two weeks ago, Mom. I'm not exactly in the mood to jump into another engagement."

My father set down his newspaper, his voice firm the way it always was when his mind was already made up. "This isn't about mood, this is about damage control. Do you know what people are saying about this family right now?"

"I know exactly what they're saying, Dad. I was there when I said it."

"Then you understand why this matters." He leaned forward. "The Andersons are one of the most respected families in the city. If you marry their son, it shows everyone that you've moved on, that you're thriving, that Stephen's little scandal didn't break you."

"And if I don't want to marry a stranger just to save face?"

"Then the whispers continue," my mother said gently. "The pity. The jokes. The laughter. All of it. Joye, I know this isn't fair, but sometimes we do things for the family, not just for ourselves."

I sat there, jaw tight, turning it over in my head. Then, unbidden, Stephen's voice crept back into my mind. “You think anyone's going to want you now? You'll be a joke.”

"Fine," I said.

My mother blinked. "Fine?"

"I'll meet him."

My father almost smiled. "Good girl."

I wasn't doing it for him, I wasn't even really doing it for the family, I was doing it because somewhere out there, Stephen was probably laughing with Marcus, telling him I'd rot alone forever. I wanted him to see me married to someone else, happy, moving on, thriving, even if none of it was real.

I would get married to Anderson, and with his name and power, I would be able to take revenge on Stephen and Marcus. I would take back every single thing I worked hard to give Stephen. 

The Andersons arrived the following week for what my mother called "a formal introduction," which really just meant two families sizing each other up over tea and finger sandwiches.

Their son was already seated when I walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed sharp. He didn't stand when I entered, he even barely looked up from his phone.

"Xavier," his mother said pointedly, "this is Joye."

He raised his head to glance at me briefly and then paused... his eyes held mine for a fraction of a second, something flickered in them for a while... something I couldn't explain.

i felt my breath caught in my throat. Wait... Those eyes...

Before I could make anything of it, his curt voice cut into my thought.

"Hi," He said simply and went right back to his phone.

Well then.

I sat across from him, forcing a smile at the room and getting rid of whatever thoughts had come into my head, while internally recalculating everything. If I was going to marry a stranger for appearances, I at least expected the stranger to pretend to care.

Was this even worth it? 

Stephen would be happy with Marcus while I’d be…

"So," his father said, clapping his hands together, "shall we discuss terms?"

Terms. Like I was a business acquisition.

"Of course," my father said smoothly, sliding a folder across the table.

I sat there in silence as the two men discussed contracts, property, public appearances, and press statements, like I wasn't even in the room. Xavier didn't say a single word through the entire thing. He just kept typing on his phone, occasionally glancing at his watch like he had somewhere better to be.

I had no idea why something about him seemed awfully familiar, like I had met him somewhere before. But I was sure this was the first time I was meeting Xavier Anderson.

"You're not going to say anything?" I finally asked him quietly, leaning toward him while our parents argued over some clause.

He looked at me, expression unreadable. "What is there to say?"

"I don't know. Maybe something about the fact that we're being married off like it's a merger?"

“Well, I don’t know why you’re acting like you didn’t agree to it.” 

I stared at him, stung by how easily he said it, even though it was exactly what I'd been telling myself all week. But that voice.

I shook my head. It was nothing.

"Fine," I said, matching his tone. "Simple."

The court wedding happened three days later.

There was no white dress this time, no veil, no two hundred guests. Just a small room, a judge, both our families standing stiffly on either side, and Xavier beside me in a plain black suit, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else on earth.

"Do you, Joye Bodley, take Xavier Anderson to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

My heart was beating really fast, while I hoped that I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life. Was my life and future worth gambling, because I wanted to prove a point to Stephen? 

I blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape from my eyes. 

"And do you, Xavier Anderson, take Joye Bradley to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," he said, without a flicker of emotion.

The judge smiled, oblivious to how cold the room felt. "You may exchange rings."

Xavier slid the ring onto my finger without meeting my eyes. His hand was steady, while mine was starting to shake, though not from nerves… a strange heat was creeping up my neck, and the room had started to tilt slightly at the edges.

"You may kiss the bride,” the judge announced, her voice gradually beginning to echo distantly.

He leaned in, brushing the briefest, most impersonal kiss against my cheek instead of my lips. No matter how agitated I was, it was impossible to ignore his familiar his scent felt. I could swear I had smelt that before, his touch felt against my arms.

But I couldn't dwell on it too long, because the room was spinning now, spinning hard, the faces of our parents blurring into smears of color, his intoxicating and awe fully familiar smell almost nauseating me. I opened my eye widely, shut them up immediately. I tried to steady myself, but I couldn’t. My head pounded painfully.

I tried to recall if I had breakfast before leaving the house. I knew I did, so why the hell was I feeling this way? 

"Joye?" My mother's voice, suddenly sharp with worry. "Joye, are you alright?"

"I…" My mouth felt dry, my vision swam. "I don't feel…"

The floor rushed up to meet me before I could finish the sentence.