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“I don’t love you.” My fiancé murmured, staring down at the glass of whisky in his hand, his watch ticking with only a few hours left to our wedding day.
“Alex, what are you saying?” A soft laugh left my mouth. “You heard me, Amara.” His voice was flat. “I don’t love you.” He repeated, not bothering to look at me. I searched his hardened face, hoping he was drunk enough not to know what he was saying but the steadiness in his grey eyes told me otherwise. “But. . .you courted me.” My voice broke as I tried to speak, my throat turning dry. Alexander Sterling, the man who met me after presenting a seminar at my college and pursued me around campus for my contact number. The same Alexander Sterling, who waited for me after my classes, showing up every day with different bouquet of flowers and now he denies ever loving me. Were all men this cruel or I was just unfortunate? “Alex, you chose me.” I tugged at the sleeve of his white collared shirt but he was unresponsive to my touch. “Alex, say something!” I cried out. Finally, he turned his head to me, his chiseled jaw sharp under the dim hotel lights. “I’ll explain why I picked you.” Picked? Like some flimspy item on a shelf? I emitted a bitter scoff and threw my gaze to the ceiling, blinking back the tears that threatened to embarrass me. “Tell me why you. . .picked me?” I used his term and I swear I heard him chuckle softly beside me. “To satisfy my grandfather’s will and secure my inheritance.” The words dropped like stones to my stomach and my mouth parted in disbelief. “Alex…” I whispered. “You proposed to me because of money?” “Yes.” His dry tone cared less about my feelings as he ran his long, slender fingers through his thick brown hair and I found myself admiring how deadly handsome he was. “Why couldn’t you wait until after the wedding to tell me this? Why tell me now, tonight?” His alcoholic breath fanned my face as he leaned closer, his grey eyes flickering between mine, cold and empty. “Because I want you to know what you’re preparing for.” For a moment, silence suffocated the room as my hands trembled in my laps. I bit hard on my lower lip, trying to stop myself from sobbing. Alex promised to love me, I never threw myself at him, so why was I a fool for falling in love? Everyone had warned me, my friends gossiped that it was strange, suspicious even, for a man like Alexander Sterling to suddenly propose after three months of courtship. But I silenced their opinions. I thought it was destiny, the kind of love story that happens in movies. I thought he saw me, Amara Hale, for the driven and ambitious woman I was. “Why pretend then?” I asked. “Why introduce me to your family, why flaunt me around to your friends, and make me fall in love with you if you didn’t love me?” Taking a sip of his whisky, he leaned back on the sofa and crossed his long legs like this was a casual conversation. “Because you were easy and you looked good at my side.” I pressed my palm against my chest, where my heart tore itself apart. “Alex,” I whimpered like a wounded deer, my words quivering in a silent prayer. “I. . .I love you.” His lips curled into a faint smile. “That’s good.” For a long second, my chest squeezed until breathing became impossible, my tears falling freely down my cheeks as I remembered my mama’s advice on the phone the day before: Marriage is a sacrifice, Amara. A woman must give more, forgive more, and hold her family together no matter what. Maybe she was right, maybe this was what sacrifice looked like. With a strong decision to redeem my marriage before it could even begin, I whispered to Alex with trembling lips. “I will love for the both of us.” The seconds seemed to stretch til eternity as Alexander doesn't respond, instead he stood up from the sofa, finished his drink, and set the glass down on the center table. “See you tomorrow at the altar,” He adjusted his cufflinks and left like nothing happened, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall. I sat frozen in place as my reflection stared back at me from the tinted window, the glint of my Winston Blue diamond engagement ring mocking me. My phone rang on the center table, drawing my attention and I glanced at the caller ID before accepting. “Amara, I hope you aren't nervous?” My mama’s quiet voice spoke on the other end. I swallowed hard, staring at the space Alex once occupied on the sofa. “A little.” “That’s completely normal. Marriage isn’t all about butterflies, sweetheart. It’s about duty.” My throat burned, but I forced a smile she couldn’t see. “Yes, mama.” If I told her the truth, she would tell me to endure it, there was no point in complaining about how shattered I was to my mama. “Okay, remember to get enough sleep.” She said and I hummed before ending the call and setting the phone back on the center table. I kicked off my red bottom heels and crawled into the hotel bed, clutching a pillow to my chest as my body shook uncontrollably, my sobs echoing in the half-empty room. At my moment of despair, I clasped my hands together and prayed for the entire night to end as a nightmare. Maybe my fiancé was anxious, or upset? Maybe marriage would change his heart? “Yes, I could change him.” I mumbled between my cries, wiping the wet corners of my eyes with my fingertips. I couldn’t dishonor my fathers name by running away and not attending my wedding; a ceremony that’s been the topic of the entire nation. Many couples found love in their marriages and I believed Alex’s would grow with time. I know Alex would look at me one day and see me not as an object, but as his wife. I will happily marry him, and act like tonight never existed. I will stay beside him forever and show him I'm not leaving. I was going to win Alexander Sterling’s heart.I’d never seen Alexander Sterling so mortified in my entire life until tonight. He sat behind his huge mahogany desk with his sleeves rolled up, flipping through files with the intensity of someone trying to stop an empire from collapsing. His father, Jameson Sterling, paced the length of the office as he raked his hands through his neatly combed hair, his face ashen with stress. The glass wall muffled their voices but their lips rushed, the sharp tension pressing against the glass like steam. Jameson barked at his son and Alex snapped back, the panic evident in their eyes and for once, I saw the cracks in Alex’s control. A call diverted my attention and I quickly fished for my phone in my purse, glancing at the caller’s ID before accepting. “Hello, Sophia.” I pressed the phone to my ear and stepped out of the waiting area, into an empty hallway. “Babe, I’m so sorry I haven’t checked up on you in a while,” Her voice came soft but steady on the other end. “How have you been?”
The restaurant was the crown of the city’s fine dining scene. It was where notable food critics gave five-star reviews, where everyone talked about but could hardly get reservations. It normally took months to book a dinner here, but nothing was impossible for a Sterling whose name opened doors faster than money. The maître d’ bowed slightly when we arrived, his tone reverent as he led us to our table near the tall glass window overlooking the skyline. A soft piano melody drifted through the air, so faint it blended into the rhythm of hushed conversations and the occasional clink of silverware. The scent of truffle oil, wine, and freshly baked tarts lingered as each seat was occupied by the elite—men in dark suits, and women in eloquent dresses. I smoothed my suede dress as I sat down, the emerald green fabric catching the light of the golden chandelier. Alex looked effortlessly perfect across from me, his suit trimmed so precisely on him, it was almost sculptural. “Good
I couldn’t return to Alex and pretend like everything was okay. I couldn’t share the same air, the same room, or even the same bed as him. Was I expected to apologize or keep demanding for a divorce that nearly got me killed? The thought made my throat tighten and I traced my fingers along my neck where Alex had strangled. “Amara, darling.” Grandma Selene called me over as I came through the foyer. She was seated on a couch and had changed out of her birthday dress—her presence a rescue for the storm brewing inside me. “Come play checkers with me, it’s been ages since I’ve had a worthy opponent.” She invited me with her soft, lilting voice. I forced a smile and smoothed my sweaty palms over my dress, thankful for the mild distraction. “Your hands are trembling, dear,” Grandma Selene noted softly as we arranged the pieces. “Just a little cold,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the board and she didn’t press further on it. She talked for a long while, telling me stories about
A resounding slap met my face, as Alex’s hand collided with my cheek, forcefully snapping my head to one side. Hot tears stung my waterline and a quiet sob broke from my lips as the slap burned its imprint to my skin. “What did you say?!" Alex wrapped his hands tightly around my arms, digging his nails into my flesh. “You want to leave me?!" He yelled, jerking me harshly to meet his eyes. “Alex, you're hurting me!” I cried, trying to pry my arms off his hold but my efforts were futile. “Who do you think you are to divorce me?!” He gripped the back of my head and pulled it back, demanding me to look at him. “Do you think you're special?!” “Alex, please. . .stop.” I winced, scratching on his fingers to release his twisting hold on my hair as my scalp throbbed in pain. "We made our vows, it's either over your dead body or mine!” Alex gripped my throat with his hands, suffocating the air out of my lungs. “A—A—Alex.” I gasped as he held my back against the rough wall, lifting
Marie’s hand stayed in the air for a full minute as I wasn’t much interested in her pleasantries, but the young lady was determined on getting a handshake. I finally shook her hand and her symmetrical smile widened, a cute dimple making an indent on her left cheek and a tinge of jealousy nipped at my heart. Alex’s ex-girlfriend and I shared no similarities; from the color of her hair, the shape of her face, and her overall physique—everything was different from mine. She was pretty, a soft and effortless aura, without the confidence of makeup and a thick foreign accent that sounded like a mix of French and German. But how come I’d never seen or heard of her before? Did Alex prefer women with accents or was I simply overthinking? Wait. . .Isabel Vega, his secretary had a subtle Spanish essence in her speech and appearance. There's no chance my husband would choose to settle down with someone who wasn't his type. I tossed my gaze around in search of Alex; I desperately nee
“Go, Grandma! Go, Grandma!” The party guests cheered on Grandma Selene as Julien kept her on her feet, dancing to funky old-school music blasting through the speakers. The garden was beautifully decorated, with red and white roses climbing up trellises, the tables and chairs arranged in a wide circle, where Grandma Selena and Julien grooved in the middle. It was refreshing to see Julien back to his old self, swaying side-to-side with his grandmother, engaging her and making the day memorable with his rather incredible moves. From what I could remember, Julien was her first grandson and he was openly seen with the Sterling family, but I wondered why Alex was acknowledged as CEO of Sterling Biotech Group and not him. Was Julien a lovechild or did Jameson Sterling cheat after his marriage to Eleanor. . .the latter would explain Alex’s unfaithfulness to me. “What are you thinking about?” Alex brushed his lips behind my ears in a whisper and I hid the cupcake I’d been nibbling on







