Nikki didn’t know what to say. Her palms were slick with sweat, panic creeping through her veins.
The next second, she heard David’s voice, casual yet firm.
"I do."
Then, with a hint of amusement, he added, "But you should’ve heard—I bring bad luck to my wives. I can’t guarantee what might happen if you marry me."
Nikki’s breath hitched. She sniffled and forced a small, bitter smile. "I’m bad luck too. Tough life, unlucky fate… maybe we’re a perfect match."
Silence stretched for a few seconds before David suddenly let out a low, soft chuckle.
"Alright. Wait for me. In seven days, I’ll come back and marry you."
He must have heard the quiet sobs she was trying so hard to suppress. His sigh was barely audible, but when he spoke again, his voice carried a rare warmth—calm, steady, almost reassuring.
"Nikki, don’t cry. From now on, you have me."
The call ended, yet Nikki felt as if she had just woken up from a dream.
She hadn’t expected David to actually agree…
Though his face was nothing but a vague memory now, his deep and clear voice made her wonder—he probably wasn’t that old yet, right?
But it didn’t matter. She had chosen to marry him for one reason only—to protect that heart. She had no other expectations.
Over the years, she had learned the hard way—wishful thinking only led to punishment from fate.
And fate had already punished her until she had nothing left to lose.
With David’s answer, a strange calm settled over Nikki. She focused on preparing for the wedding in seven days.
The Hewitt brothers, as always, expected her to cook their meals. Over the past few days, they kept messaging her, ordering dishes for her to prepare and sending them to the hospital to help Lora recover.
But Nikki never replied. Not once.
They assumed she was just throwing another tantrum—until they heard from others that she was busy preparing for a wedding.
Their reactions were exactly as expected—mockery, laced with disdain.
"So much for saying she wouldn’t marry either of us," Brad scoffed. "Looks like that was just a reverse psychology trick to force a proposal."
Lora forced a delicate smile. "I envy my sister… She had the two of you growing up with her, childhood sweethearts, two little kids playing together. But my body is weak—I probably won’t even be able to attend the wedding."
Brad immediately tried to comfort her. "Who’s even marrying her? Lora, if you’re not going, neither am I. My brother and I will just skip it, let her have the ceremony alone—see how she likes becoming a laughingstock in all of Seattle!"
Howard murmured a few reassuring words to Lora as well, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake off what he had overheard at the hospital that day. A nagging unease settled in his chest.
Three days later, a delivery arrived for Nikki—an overwhelming number of gifts, all sent by David, who had yet to return to the country.
There was a one-of-a-kind, custom-made wedding veil. A diamond necklace worth tens of millions. A pair of wedding shoes adorned with real crystal diamonds.
She hadn’t expected him to be so thoughtful. Somehow, her heart felt… a little lighter.
That night, she went to try on the wedding ring David had ordered.
Just then, her phone rang.
It was Howard.
But when she answered, no one spoke. Only the sound of laughter and loud voices filled the line—it was a party.
"Howard won the dare!" someone shouted.
"Drink ten shots or kiss Lora—your choice! Hahaha!"
Nikki could hear Howard’s heavy breathing against the microphone. He sounded a little drunk.
The next second, Lora’s soft, shy voice came through.
"Howard, you can’t drink too much—it’s bad for your heart. Let me drink for you instead… Don’t let them tease me."
Then, it wasn’t Howard’s voice that spoke, but some rich second-generation heir from his circle. His tone was arrogant, dismissive.
"Come to the bar right now. Howard has a stomachache."
For a moment, Nikki’s heart clenched in reflex. She parted her lips, ready to respond—
But the call cut off.
She stood frozen for a long while, staring at the phone. Then, slowly, she curled her lips into a mocking smile.
How many times had this happened before?
How many times had she dropped everything, rushing to him the moment someone called?
Whether it was a business dinner, a late-night party, or just another social gathering, she had always been the one to worry about Howard’s health—more than he ever did himself.
