CHAPTER 2:

CHAPTER 2: THE WEDDING

Saturday came too fast.

I stared at the white dress hanging on my hotel room door.

It wasn’t mine.

It was sent this morning by Damian’s assistant. Designer. $12,000 tag still on it.

"Miss Carter," the assistant said on the phone. "The car is downstairs. The ceremony starts in 2 hours."

No "Are you ready?"

No "How do you feel?"

Just orders.

My phone buzzed. Mom.

"Baby? Are you okay? We saw the news. 'Billionaire Damian Cole marries today'... is that you?"

I closed my eyes. "It’s... complicated, Mom. I’ll explain later. Tell them I’m fine."

"Ali, what’s going on?"

"I love you. I have to go."

I hung up before I could cry.

---

The St. Regis Hotel looked like a palace. Flowers everywhere. Cameras. Reporters.

But the wedding was "private". Only 20 people. All Damian’s board members and family.

I walked down the aisle alone.

No dad. No brother. No one on my side.

And there he was.

Damian Cole in a black tux. Hands in pockets. Face like stone.

He didn’t smile when he saw me. He just looked... bored.

The priest started talking. I didn’t hear any of it.

My hands shook holding the bouquet. Fake flowers. Fake marriage.

"Do you, Damian Cole, take Ali Carter to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"Yes." Cold. Fast.

"Do you, Ali Carter, take Damian Cole to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

My throat closed. $5 million. My brother.

"Yes."

The ring was cold. Platinum. 3 carats. It felt like handcuffs.

"You may kiss the bride."

Damian’s eyes met mine. Warning.

Rule #3: No kissing unless for show.

He leaned down. His lips barely brushed mine. 1 second.

For the cameras. For show.

Applause.

"Mrs. Cole," he whispered against my ear. Only I could hear. "Remember the contract."

---

The reception was hell.

I smiled. I laughed at jokes I didn’t get. I let Damian’s mother hug me and call me "dear".

His ex was there. Sophia. Blonde. Perfect. She stared at me like I was dirt.

"So you’re the new wife," she said, sipping champagne. "How long do you think it’ll last?"

"Long enough," I said and walked away.

At 10PM, Damian finally grabbed my arm. "We’re leaving."

"What about the honeymoon?" someone yelled.

"Business trip," Damian said without looking at me.

The Bentley was waiting.

The second the doors closed, he let go of my arm like I was fire.

"Ground rules," he said, staring out the window. "You have your own room. In my penthouse. Don’t touch my things. Don’t go through my office. Don’t ask me about my work."

"Got it."

"And Ali." He finally looked at me. "Don’t make me regret this."

We drove to Cole Tower in silence.

Up 89 floors.

He opened a door to a massive bedroom. King bed. Ocean view. Everything white and gold.

"This is yours."

"Where’s yours?"

"Other side of the penthouse."

He turned to leave.

"Damian?"

He stopped. Didn’t turn around.

"Thank you... for the money. My brother’s surgery is Friday."

Silence.

"Don’t get attached, Mrs. Cole."

Then he was gone.

I sat on the $20,000 bed in my $12,000 dress and realized something.

I was married to a stranger.

In a mansion I didn’t earn.

With a ring I didn’t want.

But my brother would live.

Rule #1: Don’t fall for him.

Rule #2: Survive 1 year.

I could do this.

I had to.

The room was so quiet I could hear my own breathing.

Everything here smelled like Damian. Expensive cologne, leather, and something cold I couldn’t name.

The bed was bigger than my whole old apartment. The closet was already full of dresses with my size tags. His assistant must’ve bought them.

I took off the ring and set it on the nightstand. The diamond caught the moonlight and threw it across the ceiling.

3 carats of "fake".

My phone lit up. A text from an unknown number.

[Damian]: The first installment was sent. Check your account.

[Damian]: And don’t leave the penthouse without telling my security.

No "goodnight". No "how are you".

Just business.

I checked my bank app with shaking hands.

$2,500,000.00

Deposited.

I started crying then. Not because I was sad.

But because for the first time in months, my brother had a chance.

I whispered to the empty room: "One year, Ali. You can survive one year."

The city lights blinked outside the window. Somewhere on the other side of this penthouse, my husband was sleeping.

A man who didn’t want me.

A man I wasn’t allowed to want back.

END OF CHAPTER 2