“Fine,” I said. “Let’s cancel the wedding.”
Both of them just stood there, completely stunned. Especially Marshall, whose face twisted in disbelief. Maybe it was the first time a woman he considered beneath him had publicly rejected him. Or maybe he’d finally realized that if I really refused to go through with the wedding, Wilfred might just revoke his right to inherit everything.
But Reyna? Her eyes lit up like Christmas morning—full of greed and opportunity.
“Wait, isn’t this perfect?” she chirped, looping her arm through his. “Now you don’t have to marry some farm-raised nobody. She practically did you a favor.”
I could see the hesitation flicker across Marshall’s face. His eyes shifted like he was doing mental math.
Reyna leaned in closer, her voice syrupy sweet. “Come on, you know your grandpa didn’t mean what he said. He was just pissed off. There’s no way he’d actually cut you off the will just because you didn’t marry some backwater girl. You’re the smartest, the most capable—who else is gonna carry on the Rhodes Family legacy if not you? He knows that.”
“But the invitations are already out,” he mutters. “Calling it off now will make the family look bad.”
Reyna leans against him, drawing lazy circles on his chest with her finger. “But… you have me,” she giggled. Her voice drops to a coy whisper. “Don’t you think I’d make a better wife?”
His eyes darkened as he reached for her hand. “You’re right. I should’ve married you. A woman of noble, not a country bumpkin.”
Then, as if I weren’t even in the room, he sneered, “She should’ve been grateful just to be in the same room as me. If Grandpa hadn’t forced my hand, I wouldn’t have even bothered showing up today.”
I’d had enough.
“Well, since the wedding’s off,” I cut in coldly, “I’d like the both of you to get the hell out of my house. But before you go, take down all these ridiculous decorations you put up.”
I pointed to the doorway still draped in tulle and flowers.
Some of the neighbors who’d gathered outside started laughing among themselves.
“She’s not seriously thinking the house still belongs to her, is she?” one woman said, amused. It’s a wedding gift. And there’s no wedding, so obviously it goes back to Mr. Rhodes.”
Reyna clutched Marshall’s arm tighter. "Don’t let her keep it,” Reyna whined, her voice grating. “You’re not even getting married anymore. I just don’t want her using this as some excuse to leeching off of you.”
Marshall looks like he’s thinking it over, then says gently, “Alright. I’ll take it back.”
Marshall glared at me, then barks, “I’ll have this house back. I don’t care if Grandpa gave it to you—this place is mine again, so pack your stuff and get out.”
I blinked. The audacity.
“This house isn’t yours,” I said, steady and clear. “It was assigned to me by the institute I work for. Your family had nothing to do with it.”
He let out a mocking laugh, pulled out his wallet and tossed a check onto the table like that settled everything.
“No need to make up stories like that,” he sneered, letting out a laugh. He pulled out his wallet and threw a check on the table like he was doing me a favor.
“This is what you want, right? Money? Take it. Consider it me buying the house back. Happy?”
I looked down at the check, then right back at him.
“No,” I said calmly. “For the last time, this house was given to me not by Mr. Rhodes but my superior. It’s not for sale. No amount of money can make you, a commoner, the owner of this place.”
That made both him and Reyna burst out laughing and the crowd outside joined in like a bad comedy show.
“Of course she won’t take the money,” one woman cackled. “These old houses sat empty for years. No one wanted them. And now she thinks she’s living in a palace? Please.”
Marshall shook his head and snorted. “You hear that? Be smart and take the damn money.”
But I didn’t move. My voice stayed firm.
“You don’t get to throw your money around and expect the world to bow,” I told him. “This house isn’t yours, Marshall. And no amount of money is gonna change that.”
