Chapter 1

David's POV

My fiancee, Vivian Carroll, didn't seem the least bit surprised.

She removed her wedding veil in front of all the other wedding guests, took the black mourning garb that her best friend, Aaron Turner, handed her, and put it on over the wedding dress I'd had custom-made for her.

"Uncle Eric passed away too suddenly last night, and the Turners weren't able to find a place to hold the funeral at such short notice," Vivian explained to me. "Since this hall's already been paid for anyway, it would be better if we used it to give Uncle Eric a proper send-off instead of letting it go to waste."

She and Aaron grew up together, and she often referred to Aaron's father as "Uncle Eric" even though they weren't related by blood.

With that, she told me to send all of the wedding guests from my side of the family back home so that the Turners could mourn in peace. But when she saw that I wasn't moving, she began to get impatient.

My expression was dark as I stopped the hotel manager, Russell Jones, who was in the midst of clearing out the wedding decorations from the hall.

"Kindly remove the deceased's portrait and put the wedding decor back in place. The wedding will proceed as planned."

Vivian flew into a rage. She flipped over the table of wedding favors and yelled at me, "Uncle Eric hasn't even been laid to rest yet, and you're telling me that you're about to fight with a dead person over who gets to use this hall?

"If you dare to lay a finger on his funeral portrait, I swear I will never marry you!"

I looked at her, still wearing the wedding dress I'd gotten her with the mourning garb draped over it, and suddenly smiled.

Then, I turned around and booked the banquet hall right next to this one and sent a text message to Vivian's longtime business rival and arch-nemesis, Carla Emerson.

"Are you free right now? I've spent seven years planning this wedding. All it's missing now is a bride who'll appreciate it."

Carla's response was immediate.

"Are you only using me to provoke Vivian, or are you serious about asking me to marry you, David Hartman?"

I didn't reply to her question and just sent her the address for the wedding venue.

"If you're willing to come, I'll redo the wedding preparations for you at once. We'll also register our marriage on the spot and make our relationship public.

"I will also give you the respect, loyalty, and freedom that a wife deserves—nothing less. You are not anybody's stand-in or replacement. You also won't have to compete with anyone.

"If you say yes, then you will be my only wife from today onward."

I put my phone away and called Russell over. I said, "Take down all the wedding decorations the Carrolls haven't touched yet and move them all to the hall next door."

Russell hesitated for a moment, glancing cautiously at Vivian.

"But Mr. Hartman, the crystal chandelier, floral backdrop, and stage in the main hall are all integrated structures. Moving them on such short notice would require significant manpower."

"I'll pay double the charge. I want everything sorted out within an hour," I replied.

The anger on Vivian's face finally eased up when she heard what I said. She thought that I'd accepted the fact that we were postponing the wedding. She came over to help me fix the tie that she'd yanked just now.

"See? You should have just done this earlier," she said. "This is the only funeral that Uncle Eric will get, but we can always have our wedding another time."

I took a step back and evaded her touch. Her hand froze in midair, and she frowned at me impatiently again.

"Are you still mad? I've already told you that I'll make it up to you after Uncle Eric has been laid to rest, David."

Aaron walked up to us from not too far away, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

"Viv, maybe we should just forget about it. Dave has been preparing for this wedding for a long time. I can't possibly stop you guys from getting married just because Dad passed away."

Despite his words, he still kept tugging on Vivian's sleeve the whole time, clutching it tightly. She immediately turned around to comfort him.

"Don't spout nonsense, Aaron," she said. "I promised Uncle Eric that I would take care of you in his place. And I won't let anybody stop him from having a funeral."

She then pointed at the front-row seats, where my parents, Jeffrey Hartman and Amanda Summers, were already seated, and told the staff to remove all the wedding decorations on the chairs and tables.

"The Turners will be arriving shortly. They will sit there instead."

Mom held a hand to her chest, looking pale and upset.

"Then, where are we supposed to sit?"

Vivian responded matter-of-factly, "Isn't there an empty hall next door? Amanda, you and Jeffrey can go next door to wait it out. You're only going to disrupt the Turners' funeral by staying here."

During the past seven years Vivian and I had been together, whenever we went home for a visit, Mom would always start preparing her favorite dishes days in advance. Even when Vivian struggled financially with her start-up company, Mom and Dad were the ones who dipped into their savings to help her through it.

And yet, at our wedding, Vivian was telling them that they were nothing but a disruption.

I helped Mom up, not bothering to offer any excuses on Vivian's behalf.

"Come on, Mom. Let's go next door."

Dad glanced at the wedding dress Vivian was still wearing under her mourning garb. Still, he didn't say anything and just helped Mom next door with a dark look on his face.

Dozens of the wedding guests from my side of the family also got up and followed us next door. Vivian saw everyone leaving, but she didn't bother stopping them. Instead, she just heaved a sigh of relief.

"This is for the better. It's terrible luck to hold a wedding and a funeral in the same place. Everyone would be incredibly awkward with each other."

When I reached the door, I heard Aaron asking Vivian in a low voice, "Viv, I think Dave's really mad this time. Aren't you going to say something to him?"

She scoffed. "He could never bear to actually stay mad at me. I've been with him for seven years. He's always the first one to apologize every time we fight.

"I just need to sweet-talk him after we're done with Uncle Eric's funeral, and he'll happily redo all the preparations for our wedding again later."

The door to the banquet hall next door slowly opened before me. The staff were putting up the crystal chandelier that had been taken down from next door and bringing in the champagne roses by the armful.

Mom held my hand. "David, you know that marriage isn't a game, right? It's still not too late to stop everything now."

I looked at the huge black-and-white wreath in the main hall next door and felt inexplicably calm.

"It's okay, Mom. I'm not acting out of spite," I replied. "I've just finally realized that some people are not worthy of my love."