Chapter 3: The Deal is Done
Alexander Kingsley's POV:
Time dissolved into a haze until the music suddenly filled the room. Darkness enveloped the space, leaving only two spotlights—one illuminating me, another trained on the far end of the aisle. I instinctively looked up.
As the doors slowly opened, a woman in a wedding dress entered my field of vision. Her appearance struck me with unexpected force—her beauty is beyond description or comparison, like staring directly at something too bright. My jaw tightened imperceptibly. She walked toward me on the arm of a man beside her, both bathed in the professional lighting that followed their every step. I knew this was my so-called wife, and this was the first time I have seen her.
The day before.
I was reviewing quarterly projections for our latest acquisition in the Kingsley Group presidential office when my father, Richard Kingsley, entered without knocking and seated himself directly on the leather sofa across from my desk. I glanced up briefly at him before returning my attention to signing the documents before me.
My father crossed one leg over the other, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from his immaculately tailored suit. His expression remained impassive, but I could feel his eyes studying me
He unbothered by my dismissal, spoke directly. "August 15th is your wedding day."
My pen froze mid-signature, the Italian ink bleeding slightly into the expensive paper. I slowly raised my gaze to meet his, finding him sitting with infuriating calmness on the sofa, as though he'd just commented on the weather rather than attempting to commandeer my life.
I remained silent, quietly waiting for him to speak again.
"I've arranged everything," he continued. "The bride is from the Cole family. Charlotte, a rather special young girl. Twenty years old, still in college."
"Twenty?" I couldn't help but display a mocking smile. "Why not give her to Jason instead?"
"Insolent!" my father snapped. "Alexander! This is your future wife—she's not something to be handed off to your nephew on a whim!"
I leaned back in my chair, my face showing complete indifference. "Then whoever arranged it should be the one getting married."
"Alexander Kingsley!" He stood up, his voice filled with anger. "You have no choice in this matter. I'm warning you, Alexander—even if you firmly object, this marriage must proceed." He slammed his cup down on the table with force, creating a tremendous noise.
"Impossible," I replied, my voice ice-cold.
My father was silent for a moment, then played his trump card: "Marry her, and I'll tell you everything about 'her'."
My composure cracked. I knew exactly who "she" was—the girl who had suddenly disappeared from my world, someone important to me whom I had been searching for without success.
"You've been investigating too?" I narrowed my eyes.
He didn't answer, ignoring my question as he straightened his impeccable suit.
"August 15th is your wedding day. Be prepared."
Sensing the shifting light and shadows before me, I pulled myself from the memory to focus on the bride who now stood before me.
She was smaller than I had expected, her face full of collagen, radiating youth, making her look even younger than twenty. I noticed her eyes were red as if she had been crying. I felt puzzled—wasn't she supposedly eager to marry into the Kingsley family? Why the tears? Was this an act?
When we stood face to face, William Cole reluctantly placed his daughter's hand in mine. The moment our fingers touched, the warmth of my palm contrasted sharply with the coldness of her fingers. She instinctively tried to pull away from my touch. I reacted quickly, gripping her hand firmly, ensuring the guests wouldn't notice anything amiss.
When our eyes met, I found myself looking into a pair of eyes as frightened as a deer's. A strange feeling washed over me—my normally calm and detached demeanor seemed to ripple with an unexpected emotion.
I turned away, no longer looking at her, but inwardly mocking myself for officially becoming a Silicon Valley stereotype—an older tech executive marrying a college-aged wife.
When the pastor asked Charlotte if she would accept me as her husband, to love, cherish, and be faithful to me until death, the ballroom fell into a silence so complete. The collective held breath of three hundred guests created a pressure in the air that was almost suffocating. Even the photographer's camera stopped clicking, as if the very moment had crystallized into something fragile and dangerous.
She didn't respond.
Whispers began to ripple through the crowd like wind through tall grass.
I looked down at her; her breathing was rapid, seemingly completely immersed in her own thoughts, unaware of the abnormal silence now permeating the ballroom, of the hundreds of eyes boring into her back.
"Answer," I commanded under my breath, increasing the pressure on her hand until I felt the delicate bones shift beneath my grip.
She looked up at me, confused, still not understanding the current situation.
Realizing she might be experiencing ringing in her ears due to extreme nervousness, I gripped her hand tightly again, feigning an intimate gesture as I reached out to gently brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen near her ear.I slowed down my movements as if we were a pair of intimate lovers.
In reality, I leaned close to her ear and warned in an icy voice: "Stop spacing out. If the Kingsley family loses face, I'll make sure the Cole family pays the price!"
The threat hung between us, invisible to all but felt by her—I could tell by the way her body suddenly stiffened, by the small gasp that escaped her lips.