CHAPTER 3 - MOVING IN

CHAPTER 3...

SHARON’S POV

The wedding was finally over, and the guests had dispersed back to their respective lives. Now, I was left to deal with the aftermath: my father and my best friends.

"And just like that, you bring a stranger home?" Dad fired angrily, his glare so piercing I felt like I’d murdered someone and hidden the body in his bedroom. "I thought you loved Gary. I thought that was why you insisted on this marriage. How could you do this to me, Sharon? Claire always reminds me of how irresponsible you are, but I never truly believed her until now. Are you finally showing your true colors now that you have my approval?"

"Claire, Claire... she’s your wife, Dad, and I really wish you’d keep her out of my business," I shot back, refusing to back down. "I’m an adult. I can do what I want. I chose to marry Russell instead of Gary. Why do you have such a problem with that when I’m the one who has to live with him? Don’t you like Russell? Or are you just threw off because I didn't introduce him to you first? I knew you wouldn't care anyway, so what’s the fuss about?"

Dad’s fist clenched tightly, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain his rage at my attitude.

"I’m going to speak with Gary," Dad threatened, stepping closer. "And you better pray it’s not what I’m thinking right now. Otherwise, you can kiss your position at the company goodbye." He turned on his heel and stormed out without waiting for a reply.

The moment the door slammed, the adrenaline left my body. I staggered, nearly losing my footing, but Lili caught me from behind.

"Girl, are you okay?" Lili asked, guiding me gently to a seat. "That was intense. But seriously, what is going on? We are all losing our minds here. How did your groom change from Gary to Russell in a matter of hours? I swear every guest out there was asking the same thing."

I sank into the chair and exhaled a long, shaky breath, looking at my friends as tears finally spilled over.

"Gary broke up with me yesterday," I whispered.

The room went completely silent as I narrated the entire nightmare—the confrontation at my apartment, the sudden breakup, and the positive pregnancy test that absolutely wasn't Gary’s. By the time I finished, Lili and Billy’s jaws were practically on the floor.

"I just hope you're not thinking about keeping it," Billy said seriously, her eyes locked onto mine. "You need to get rid of it. You don't even know who the father is, Sharon. You're not actually considering keeping it, right?"

I stared into space, wiping the hot tears from my cheeks. Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my lap. It was a text from Russell.

I'm down the hall with my friends. Text me when you're done with your family so I can take you home. Sorry to spring this on you, but my family wants to meet you tomorrow. Are you okay with that? Don't worry about it tonight—we'll just head straight to my place.

I bit my lip tiredly and quickly typed a response.

I'll be out in ten minutes.

Lili snapped her fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I haven't given the pregnancy much thought yet, but I'm visiting the hospital tomorrow," I told them, my voice cracking with exhaustion. "Please, just don't tell Gary or try to meet up with him. He didn't even give me the benefit of the doubt. He didn't wait to listen. He canceled the wedding just two hours after we broke up... Now I'm starting to wonder if he ever truly loved me at all."

Lili patted my back gently. "We all know Gary has a horrific temper. He must have completely lost his mind in a fit of rage. But what do you plan on doing now? Are you really moving in with Russell?"

I looked up at her and let out a cynical smirk. "I have to. I bet the media already have their cameras stationed around his place, hoping to catch us in a lie. We need to keep the act going."

Billy groaned out loud, burying her face in her hands. I could practically feel the waves of dramatic heartbreak radiating off her. I always knew she was a massive fangirl who would do anything to get into a celebrity event, but I had only just realized that her ultimate celebrity crush was Russell.

"Billy, are you going to be okay?" I asked, trying to soothe her, though my question only seemed to fuel the fire.

She glared at me and pinched my nose so hard I thought it would bleed. "How does it feel to steal someone else's man?" she wailed, collapsing forward and burying her face against my thighs. "I can't believe that out of all the men in the world, you married my Russell!"

Despite the misery of my situation, a genuine laugh escaped me. Lili joined in, and the two of us watched Billy weep dramatic tears like a child.

A firm knock on the bridal suite door cut our laughter short. Russell stepped into the room, a polite, practiced smile on his lips. He walked over to us with an effortless, majestic stride.

"Sharon, can we go now?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

At the sound of his voice, Billy snapped her head up from my lap, her eyes instantly beaming as she stared at him in awe.

"Sure," I said, standing up and smoothing down my dress.

Lili caught my wrist, a deep look of concern in her eyes. "Call me if you need anything," she murmured reassurringly. "We’ll bring the rest of your things over tomorrow."

I nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I'll call you later."

With that, I turned and followed Russell out into the corridor.

The private elevator beeped, opening directly into Russell's penthouse.

We stepped out into the foyer, where the soft, warm glow of crystal chandeliers welcomed us. The space stretched out endlessly—a modern masterpiece of luxury perched high above the city skyline. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls wrapped around the entire living area, offering a breathtaking panoramic view of glittering skyscrapers and distant city lights dancing against the night.

The living room was massive, anchored by plush, cream-colored sofas arranged around a sleek marble coffee table. A grand fireplace framed in black stone and gold accents cut through the minimalist design, adding warmth to the room. Every piece of furniture looked meticulously curated, from the handcrafted decor to the rare artwork adorning the walls. It didn't feel like just a home; it felt like a statement of wealth, power, and exclusivity.

I watched Russell as he walked into the space, immediately loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons of his white dress shirt.

I came from money myself, but this was an entirely different tier of wealth. How does a single bachelor even justify a space this magnificent? I wondered, still trying to process the scale of the penthouse.

"So," Russell said, his voice dropping an octave as he turned to face me bluntly. "When do you plan on telling me exactly why you threw up at the altar? How come you never mentioned you have gastritis? Or... wait a minute. Are you pregnant?"

The question shattered whatever emotional armor I had left. My heart began to hammer against my ribs.

Was it even my duty to tell him? This sham of a marriage was purely for public relations anyway. Why did I owe him an explanation about my personal life? I stared at him blankly, refusing to speak.

"If you're planning on keeping secrets, then it might be better if we live separately," Russell said, his tone growing serious. "We agreed to pull this off together, which means I have a right to know what's going on. You've probably been away from your phone, so you have no clue what the public is saying right now. The entire internet thinks I knocked you up. They think we rushed the wedding because of a shotgun pregnancy. Sharon, are you pregnant? Is it your ex's?"

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and looked away, anger flaring in my chest.

"Say something, Sharon. Are you pregnant?"

"No, I'm not," I lied coldly, forcing a blank expression onto my face. "I'm exhausted. Please just show me to my room."

He stared at me intently. I couldn't tell if he was reading right through my lie or if he was simply relieved by my answer.

"I just hope you're not lying to me," he added quietly. "If we're going to live together for the next three months, we need to be honest with each other."

I let out a harsh scoff. "As if any of that matters the moment we file for divorce. If we want this arrangement to work, we should just treat each other as roommates. And about meeting your family... I'd like to decline. I don't see the point in getting acquainted with them when this is going to end anyway. Show me to my room, please."

Russell let out a sharp breath, his frustration evident, but he turned and led the way down a long hallway. He opened the door to one of the guest suites.

"You can use this one," he said, his raspy voice tight with annoyance.

I didn't care. I was currently battling a shattered heart and the terrifying, blurry future of the tiny life growing inside me. I didn't have the emotional capacity to care about a stranger's annoyance.

I walked into the room, shut the heavy door behind me, and immediately turned the key in the lock. He might be a world-famous celebrity, but to me, he was still a stranger.

Turning around, I collapsed onto the mattress. I pulled out my phone, desperately checking for any missed calls or texts from Gary. There was nothing. Instead, my screen was flooded with notifications from colleagues and acquaintances who had suddenly decided we were best friends the moment I married Russell Miller.

Sharon, congratulations! You'll be inviting us over for a housewarming party after the honeymoon, right?

Sharon, you sly girl! You didn't want to admit you were dating Russell, so you used a fake name for the registry, right?

Sweetie, you gave me the biggest shock of my life! No one had any idea your husband was Russell Miller. How did you land him? I need to follow your footsteps!

I scrolled through the endless barrage of messages, a bitter taste in my mouth. None of them got a reply.

How pathetic people could be. Back at the office, these same people treated me like an outcast just because I was the CEO's daughter. They never wanted to be my friend, and they never invited me to company dinners. Now, suddenly, I was "sweetie" and a "sly girl." Out of all the messages illuminating my screen, the only one I actually yearned for never came.

Is Gary okay? Did he turn his phone off? If his phone was on, he had to have seen the news by now. He had to know the wedding went through without him. Did he really not care? Did he truly hate me that much?

Tears streamed down my temples, soaking into the mattress. I held the phone tightly in my hand, but exhaustion eventually won. Still wrapped in the heavy, suffocating layers of my wedding dress, I drifted into a fitful sleep.

RUSSELL’S POV

I sat alone in the living room, my eyes drifting involuntarily toward the closed guest room door.

Pulling a notepad and pen from beneath the coffee table, I sighed. If this arrangement wasn't going to turn into a complete disaster, we needed rules and boundaries. But first, I needed to figure out exactly who I was dealing with. I pulled out my phone.

My mind flashed back to the wedding ceremony—specifically, to the man sitting in the very front row. That was her father, Walker Shawn. He was known as one of the most reputable, cutthroat entrepreneurs in New York. How did Shawn’s daughter end up jilted by her fiancé just a day before her wedding? How did a woman from that background end up with a jerk who would abandon her like that?

I typed Sharon’s name into the search engine.

A long list of her achievements instantly flooded the screen. Articles detailing her winning multiple national entrepreneurship awards, profiles highlighting her as one of the youngest Executive Directors in the city.

So she’s a genius, I thought, scrolling further.

I tracked down her I*******m handle and opened the app, but her account was strictly private. I rolled my eyes in frustration.

Refusing to give up, I tapped on her followed list and recognized the name of one of the friends who had been in her dressing room earlier. I scrolled through the girl's public profile. There wasn't much at first—just standard city life photos—until I hit a post from a few months ago.

It was a photo of Sharon on a beach in Greece, smiling widely and holding hands with a man.

I pinched the screen, zooming in on the guy's face, and a cold shock of recognition hit me.

"Betty’s brother..." I muttered aloud to the empty room.