chapter four

My eyes fell on a handsome man in a black tuxedo, standing beside the priest. My heart skipped a beat. Is that the man's son? I thought to myself. Because, wow!

I hadn't had such a reaction in years. I shamelessly checked him out—from his broad shoulders to his chest, down to his shiny shoes. My eyes finally returned to his face—his eyes. They were the most captivating eyes I’d ever seen. I never thought I’d see a man with such beautiful blue eyes.

I couldn't seem to look away. He wasn’t an old man; he looked to be in his early thirties. His jaw was sharp—perfect—and his black hair fell in loose curls. His eyes had long lashes, and even his nose was perfectly suited to his face. How can someone be so... handsomely perfect?

When he took my hand from my uncle’s, I saw how small my hands were compared to his. Just from the back of his hands, I can see he has huge veins and hard hands, yet his hold was not rough at all as he held my hand.

As I now stood opposite him on the altar, I could only see his chest. That is just how tall he was. He towered at least six inches over my five feet four. He looked down at me as if evaluating me.

I felt so small under his gaze—it definitely felt like trouble was on the way.

"Do you, Tyler Ryan Walker, take Anastasia Williams to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest asked Mr. Walker.

"I do," he replied almost immediately, looking irritated.

"Do you, Anastasia Williams, take Tyler Ryan Walker to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked me.

"I... I..." The intense look, Mr. Walker was giving me only made me more scared. He tightened his hold on my arms while keeping a straight face, as if he wasn’t doing anything. I winced a little, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Masking the hurt in my voice, I answered, "I do."

He then released my hand—but not completely.

We exchanged rings, and he lifted my veil. The priest spoke up with a smile. “With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As the guests clapped, he placed his left hand on the side of my face and pulled me in for a kiss. His lips barely brushed mine. I wouldn’t even call it a kiss. But with the way he positioned us, everyone thought we kissed.

We stood in that pose for a moment before he straightened back to where he stood. Our eyes stayed locked until he turned and focused on the guests, smiling. I rolled my eyes. Unbelievable.

We stepped down from the altar, and an elderly woman, likely in her late fifties, walked toward us grinning ear to ear. I assumed she was his mother.

“Congratulations, my darling.” I assumed she didn’t know what Julie looked like, so she wouldn’t know whether I was her or not.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, putting on a big fake smile.

She cupped my face. “You are so beautiful, my child. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet before the wedding. I know things got a little messy, but you’re in good hands.” She knows I’m not Eva.

“I’m Tyler’s mother, Grace,” she said as she pulled me in for a hug.

“It’s nice to meet you. But you can call me Ana—most people do,” I said, holding her for a moment. The look she gave made me feel secure. Even if my 'husband' turned out to be an asshole, his mother could be my peace.

We were taken to the reception venue. Auntie and Uncle Martin left in their car, and Mr. Walker and I were in a different one.

The drive was… quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Mr. Walker didn’t say a single word after we exchanged vows. I wasn’t expecting him to chat endlessly, but something to ease the tension would have been nice.

Upon arrival, I admired how beautifully decorated the venue was. I didn’t expect anything less from Uncle Martin—it was supposed to be his only daughter’s wedding, after all. A part of me felt angry at how this whole thing turned out, but I was even angrier knowing my uncle would never do this for my wedding.

I shrugged it off and sat at our reserved table. I looked at Mr. Walker and noticed his tie was a bit crooked. I wanted to fix it, but I was scared to piss him off even more—though, really, I should be the one who’s angry. So I signalled to his mum about the tie using hand gestures.

I must have looked ridiculous because he turned to look at me, raising a brow. Thankfully, his mum finally understood what I was doing and smiled. She stood, walked over, and fixed his tie.

He seemed to realize what my gestures were about. His mum came over to me after and said, “You’re his wife. Why do you need me to help fix his tie, dear?” She placed her hands gently on my shoulders. “I know you weren’t ready to marry him—I know. He may seem cruel, but he’s a nice boy. He’ll treat you right, okay?”

I gave her a nervous smile.

“And if he does anything to upset you, let me know. I’ll make sure to spank him for you, okay?” she added, frowning playfully.

That made me chuckle. “Okay. I’ll be sure to tell you when he does,” I replied with a smile.

She smiled back and returned to her seat.

With a smile still on my face, I turned to Mr. Walker—and it vanished. He was already staring at me intensely.

“You know, you could’ve just told me to fix my tie, right?” he asked, raising a brow. All I could focus on was his voice—deep and raspy.

“You didn’t have to call my mum. Make her leave her seat, just to fix it,” he added irritably. Why is he always irritated?

“All I did was try to help,” I said, looking down.

When I looked back up, he was still staring at me, waiting. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” I replied. “I just thought… since you hadn’t spoken to me, maybe you didn’t want me talking to you. That’s why I asked your mum.”

My voice was quiet. I looked back down at my lap.

Please don’t be a control freak.

He didn’t say anything—just turned his attention back to the guests.

While we sat at the table, some guests and business partners came to congratulate him and express hopes of working with him. I just smiled and thanked them as they congratulated him.

Finally, our food arrived. I wasted no time digging in—not literally. As I placed the first slice of chicken breast in my mouth, I moaned softly. It was delicious.

He gave me a look that said, "What the hell are you doing?"—but I didn’t care.

I was on my fourth slice when Perfect by Ed Sheeran began to play. Mr. Walker stood and looked at me with a fake smile.

“Mrs. Walker, will you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

Everyone was watching, wearing those aww expressions. I swallowed hard and took his hand.

He led us to the centre of the dance floor. One hand rested on my hip, and the other held mine. I placed my free hand on his chest. We danced slowly to the rhythm of the music.

The song had nothing to do with us. We weren’t in love. We barely spoke.

My eyes were glued to the floor when he pulled me a little closer.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I looked up, stunned. “You don’t know my name?” I asked, disappointed.

He looked down at me, expressionless. “Would I be asking you if I did?”

Wow.

“My name is Ana.”

“Your name isn’t just Ana. What’s your full name?” he asked irritably, still staring.

“You heard it during the vows. If you can’t remember, I’m not telling you,” I said proudly. He can not just be rude and get his way with it. i thought as i broke eye contact and looked down at his chest.

I know he’s handsome—the most good-looking man I’ve ever seen—but his attitude is terrible. Even with his perfect jawline, blue eyes, and tailored tuxedo. That curly hair...

Wait—what! Ana, get it together!

Why am I thinking about him like that? I’m supposed to hate this man! No more thoughts, Ana. Snap out of it!

Suddenly, I felt a tight squeeze on my waist—too tight.

“Stop. You’re hurting me,” I whispered urgently.

He only squeezed tighter.

“Stop, please,” I pleaded, voice trembling.

“Next time I ask you a question,” he said, squeezing harder, “I want an answer. Do I make myself clear?”

Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away.

“My name is Anastasia Williams,” I said quietly, looking down.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, releasing my waist and grabbing my hand, leading us out of the reception.

As I followed him, my heels clicking softly against the floor, cameras flashed, and guests smiled—completely unaware of the tension radiating between us. To them, we were just another blissful newlywed couple.

But my heart was pounding, not from joy… from fear.