Through the arches of the stone corridor, Corina could clearly see the scene unfolding on the lawn. Her mother, Eliza, was holding Kate's hands, dabbing at her own eyes with a lace handkerchief, playing the role of the heartbroken mother to perfection. Her father, Warren, stood close by, his posture radiating protective concern. Her older brother, Leo, was leaning in, speaking in hushed, comforting tones to the fragile bride.
They were her blood relatives. The people who shared her DNA. Yet, they had all conspired behind her back, actively participating in this grotesque theatrical production where a foster daughter married her husband.
They had deliberately excluded her, treating her not as a daughter or a sister, but as a volatile outsider who might ruin their precious Kate's special day.
It was beyond laughable; it was a tragedy written just for her.
Corina felt a sharp, acidic burn at the back of her eyes. She slowly pulled her gaze away from the sickening tableau on the lawn, forcing down the bitter lump in her throat. She looked straight into Jayson's dark, fathomless eyes, wrapping herself in a fragile armor of absolute calm.
She spoke softly, her voice steady. "Jayson, if this is truly just a fake wedding, a harmless performance, then why did you hide it from me?"
Jayson's jaw tightened, a flicker of profound annoyance crossing his handsome features.
"If I had told you, would you have agreed to it?" he countered, his tone defensive. "I didn't want you overthinking things and causing unnecessary drama. Furthermore, Kate's condition is incredibly fragile. She cannot handle any emotional shocks. I simply couldn't take the risk of you upsetting her."
Couldn't take the risk.
Because he was terrified that Kate might suffer the slightest emotional distress, he had chosen to treat his actual wife like a fool, keeping her entirely in the dark!
The realization hit Corina with the force of a physical blow. In Jayson's meticulously ordered world, organizing a grand wedding for his wife's sister was a noble duty, while she, his lawful wife, didn't even possess the basic right to know. She was nothing more than a potential hazard, a ticking time bomb that might detonate and ruin the perfect atmosphere he had curated for his beloved Kate.
"Jayson," she asked, her voice dropping a degree colder, "if I hadn't shown up tonight, how long were you all planning to keep this charade going?"
"Until she passes away," Jayson answered instantly, without a shred of hesitation or guilt.
"And during the time between this 'wedding' and her death?" Corina pressed, her nails digging into her palms. "What then?"
Jayson's voice remained infuriatingly level. "I will play the role of a devoted husband. I will stay by her side and accompany her through her final days. But you have my word, Corina, I know where the boundaries are. I will not cross the line into anything physical."
Corina stared at the breathtakingly handsome face of the man she had worshipped. A short, breathy scoff escaped her lips, sounding loud in the quiet corridor.
He will play the role of a devoted husband.
Then what was she supposed to do? What role was the legal, actual wife supposed to play while her husband played house with her sister?
"Once she is gone, everything will revert exactly to how it was," Jayson added, as if this was the ultimate reassurance. "You will still be Mrs. Mccormick. Nothing of substance will have changed."
Nothing will have changed?
Corina lifted her chin, her green eyes turning into chips of ice as she glared at the man who looked like a god but possessed the empathy of a stone.
For the past seven years, and especially during their three years of marriage, she had systematically filed down every sharp edge of her personality just to be the perfect wife for him.
When his demanding schedule ruined his stomach, she spent hours in the kitchen, mastering the most complex, soothing herbal soups. When the stress of the Mccormick empire caused him severe insomnia, she scoured the globe, consulting experts to find the perfect calming incense to help him sleep.
She had naively believed the old adage that even a stone could be warmed if held close enough to the heart. She thought that even if Jayson's heart was a glacier, her relentless, burning devotion would eventually melt a corner of it.
But standing here tonight, the brutal truth finally shattered her illusions.
It wasn't that the stone couldn't be warmed. It was simply that this man had reserved every ounce of his tenderness, his compassion, and his warmth for another woman.
To fulfill another woman's twisted "fairytale," he was perfectly willing to drag Corina's dignity through the mud and trample it underfoot.
"You are incredibly selfish, Jayson."
A bone-deep exhaustion washed over Corina. It felt as though her internal organs had been hollowed out, leaving only a dull, throbbing ache with every breath she took.
She didn't scream. She didn't throw a hysterical fit. She merely looked at him with a chilling, hollow tranquility.
"Let's get a divorce."
The moment those four words left her lips, Jayson's hand, which had been continuously rolling the unlit cigarette, froze mid-motion.
He stared at the woman who had loved him to the point of losing herself.
When she spoke those words, there were no dramatic tears streaming down her face. There was no shrill questioning, no screaming accusations. There wasn't even a trace of fiery anger to be found in her eyes.
It was a terrifying, detached calmness that completely defied his expectations and control. For the first time in his life, a sudden, inexplicable wave of panic seized Jayson's chest.
But almost as quickly as the panic flared, it was consumed by a much darker, more familiar emotion: absolute, towering fury.
