Chapter 5

The glare of the phone screen illuminated Liam and Chloe’s frozen faces on the dark mattress. Lady Elizabeth’s text message hit them like a sudden, violent storm, utterly shattering their peaceful bubble.

[“Liam, I know for a fact that you are not at the corporate headquarters in the City. I could not care less where or with whom you are wasting your night, but heed this: I have already booked two first-class tickets to Paris for tomorrow morning. You and Elena are going on a two-week honeymoon. Do not dare cross the threshold of this house without your passport in hand, or I will freeze every single one of your business accounts at Harrington Enterprises by sunrise.”]

Liam slammed his phone face-down onto the mattress with a fierce growl, aggressively running his hands through his hair in absolute frustration. “Damn it! The old woman has completely gone too far. A two-week honeymoon? With Elena, that bloated elephant? This is madness!”

Chloe bolted out of bed, yanking the silk duvet around her slender frame as she began to pace the floor in a blind panic, her beautiful face contorted into a sour, petulant pout.

“Two weeks, Liam? You’re going to spend two whole weeks in Paris with that oversized beast? What if you start feeling sorry for her? What if you actually begin to like that walking mountain of blubber?!”

“That will never happen, Chloe! Just the thought of having to get close to her stout body makes me physically sick to my stomach!” Liam snapped back, throwing his shirt back on. “But the real issue is my mother’s threat to freeze my accounts. I’m completely crippled if she goes through with it.”

Chloe stopped pacing. A predatory, cunning glint flared in her eyes. Stepping closer, she stroked Liam’s jawline, her voice melting back into a soft, sultry purr.

“Calm down, honey. Think about this logically,” she cooed, her fingers tracing his neck. “Humor your mother for now. Let her believe she’s won and that you’re being a good, obedient boy.”

Liam knit his brows. “Are you saying I should actually get on a plane with Elena?”

“Yes, go to Paris with her,” Chloe whispered, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips. “Bagaimana kalau aku menyusulmu? Paris is a massive city, Liam. You can dump that fat cow at the hotel to amuse herself, and then you and I can spend our nights together in another suite. Your mother will never know.”

A slow, cynical smirk carved its way onto Liam’s face as he processed the idea. He wrapped his arms around Chloe’s narrow waist, pulling her flush against him. “You are an absolute genius, darling. Let that bloated puppet serve as our shield in Paris.”

By eleven o’clock that night, Liam arrived back at Harrington Mansion. The grand estate was entirely dark and quiet, save for a faint, warm light spilling from the master suite. Liam pushed the door open to find Elena nestled in the armchair near the fireplace. Her heavy, full figure completely occupied the velvet settee as she quietly reviewed a financial journal through a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses.

“Pack your bags,” Liam ordered without preamble. “We leave for Paris tomorrow morning for two weeks.”

Elena lowered her journal with agonizing slowness, leveling a cool, detached gaze at him over the rims of her glasses. “I have no intention of going.”

“This is a direct order from my mother, not an invitation you can politely decline!” Liam snapped, aggressively unbuttoning his shirt.

“Then go by yourself. Tell your mother I’ve taken ill,” Elena countered placidly, crossing her arms over her generous chest. “I have absolutely zero interest in playing the part of a blissful bride in romantic Paris with a man who reeks of another woman’s perfume.”

Liam let out a harsh, mocking scoff, stung by the implicit jab. He marched across the room, bending down until his sharp features were mere inches from Elena’s pale, unbothered face.

“Do you honestly think I want this? I have no desire to look at your bloated face and stout body ruining my view for two solid weeks either!” Liam hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “But my mother is threatening to freeze my assets if we don’t board that plane. So do your bloody job as a trophy doll. Pack your loose, suffocating dresses, and get your fat ass moving tomorrow morning so the old woman shuts her mouth!”

Elena stared dead into Liam’s eyes, quietly observing the tattered remains of a pride he seemed to have entirely lost. Finally, she let out a short, weary sigh.

“Fine. I will go,” Elena said coldly, rising from the armchair. “But do not expect me to pretend to be pleasant to you while we are there.”

“I wouldn’t want you to anyway!” Liam snapped back harshly.

The following morning, Liam was the absolute picture of a doting, attentive husband in front of his parents. He wrapped an arm protectively around Elena’s thick waist, even pressing a tender, lingering kiss to her temple with a flawlessly manufactured smile.

“Take wonderful care of your wife, Liam. Spoil her rotten in Paris,” Lady Elizabeth beamed happily, escorting them right to the waiting car.

“Of course, Mother. Elena is my entire world now,” Liam replied, his tone so incredibly tender and convincing that any casual observer would have sworn he was a man profoundly in love with his wife.

Elena remained rigid and silent, allowing the charade to play out without interference.

The moment their car cleared the mansion gates, Liam violently ripped his arm away from his wife’s full frame, looking thoroughly disgusted to have even touched her. For the rest of the drive, he stared down at his phone with a giddy, impatient smirk, completely checking out of the vehicle’s interior.

“He seems remarkably thrilled about a honeymoon he supposedly despised,” Elena thought, but, she chose not to dwell on it. Throughout the journey, her clear eyes drifted to the window, watching the rhythmic pattern of London rain splashing against the glass.

They finally arrived at the airport.

Liam and Elena stepped into the ultra-exclusive luxury of the First Class cabin. Liam immediately claimed seat 1A, while Elena prepared to settle into 1B. But the second Elena stepped into her row, her feet came to a complete halt.

Chloe, sitting comfortably in seat 1C, directly across the aisle. She was lounging back with a triumphant, wicked smirk.

“So this is your little game,” Elena thought, not a single fiber of her being feeling wounded.

With the unshakeable grace of a high-born lady, Elena took her seat and met Chloe’s mocking glare with an expression as flat and unyielding as sheet ice.

“Paris is going to be such a delightful trip, don’t you think, Elena?” Chloe purred, her voice dripping with venomous sarcasm as a sharp smile stretched across her lips.