Our family went bankrupt. My parents, crushed by endless debt, were forced by creditors to jump off a building.
I was sent abroad for an arranged marriage to a man I had never even met.
For three years, I lived a life worse than death.
And on the ninety-ninth time I was forced to kneel and beg for forgiveness in the pouring rain, Easton Carter appeared.
He tore up the contracts. He gave up hundreds of billions just to buy back my freedom.
The day the divorce papers were finally signed, he knelt beneath the Eiffel Tower, holding a ring.
He said he didn’t care about my past. His only regret was not finding me sooner.
Back in the US, he cherished me for two whole years.
If I wanted stars, he gave me stars. If I wanted the moon, he gave me the moon. The only thing he never gave was a wedding.
On our third Valentine’s Day, I took our ID cards and went alone to register for marriage, wanting to surprise him.
The clerk stared at the screen, their face pale with shock.
“Miss Chandler, are you sure these documents are correct? Mr. Carter has already been married. It’s been five years.”
——
The noise around me kept buzzing, but it felt like my heart had skipped a beat.
All I could hear was the ragged, painful sound of my breathing.
“What did you just say?”
“Could there be a mistake? Please check again. Easton isn’t married. That’s impossible.”
My voice shook, cracking under the weight of disbelief.
The staff member, clearly uneasy, wiped the sweat from their brow and slowly turned the screen toward me, pointing to a single word: Married.
“Miss Chandler, see for yourself. Easton Carter is indeed married. Today marks five years exactly. The registered spouse is Addison Hayes. Do you know her?”
Everything around me collapsed. The world tilted and spun.
I stood there, frozen, until a bitter smile curved on my lips.
“I know her. Sorry, I must’ve made a mistake.”
How could I not know her?
Addison was the so-called adopted sister Easton brought home from the orphanage, or at least, that was the story he told me.
I just never knew when that ‘sister’ became his wife.
A thousand doubts pressed down on my chest, so heavy I could barely breathe.
I didn’t even know how I managed to get out of the building. By the time I came to, I was already standing outside.
Couples who had just registered passed me by, casting glances filled with pity and awkward sympathy.
Their happiness only made the ache in my chest worse.
Just as I was about to call Easton, a message popped up: [Avery, I haven’t seen you in eight hours. I miss you so much it’s hard to breathe. You better make it up to me tonight!]
I used to think words like that meant love.
Now, they just felt like a cruel joke.
My nails dug deep into my palm as I trembled and typed back, [Okay. I have something to ask you tonight. Come home early. I’ll wait.]
Still dazed, I hailed a taxi and headed straight to the bar I used to love before going abroad, the one place I knew could drown out my thoughts.
But just as I reached the private room door, a voice from inside stopped me cold.
A voice I knew far too well.
His friend swirled the wine in his glass and teased with a grin, “What dragged you out tonight? Got your little wifey tucked in nice and quiet?”
“I told her I was working late. Avery’s obedient didn’t question a thing.”
He glanced over with a smirk. “Besides, you know what day it is. Everything ready?”
The friend patted his chest with pride.
“Of course, your fifth wedding anniversary with Addison. I’ve helped you celebrate it every year. How could I forget?”
Then he chuckled, shaking his head.
“Still in your honeymoon phase after five years? Come on, man. I don’t even treat my girlfriend half as well. You’re frying my brain cells with all this effort.”
He sighed, eyes filled with emotion.
“I can’t give her a real title, so I try to make it up to her. She loves her ritual, so I do my best to make everyone count.”
