Chapter 13
Thirteen
Past
“Jordan!”
Pressure closed over my bicep like a vise, and I looked up into the alcohol-reddened face of one of Henry’s fawning VPs.
“Great party,” he said, leering at me.
I glanced around the beautiful party, which in reality was a business event. Henry had asked me to organize it, though I hadn’t seen him yet and was cornered by his creepy associate instead.
This one was named Richard, and he liked staring at me for a little too long. Henry and his friends charmingly referred to him as “Diamond Dick” ever since he married a woman distantly related to one of the diamond baron families. An elegantly coiffed woman whose tasteful clothes spoke of the kind of breeding only generational wealth could instill.
Unfortunately, Diamond Dick’s wife was nowhere to be seen. Richard had come stag.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” I said stiffly, taking a discreet step out of reach when he tried to pull me into an embrace. The scent of his cologne was overpowering. “Can I get you anything?” I started to flag down a waiter brandishing a tray of canapés, wondering if I ought to take his keys just in case, but Richard closed the distance between us and grabbed my wrist.
“Where’s your fiancé?” he slurred.
That was a good question. I gave my wrist an experimental tug, searching the crowded room for Henry. He was not easy to miss, yet he was nowhere to be seen in the blurred sea of opulence.
“I know where he is,” Richard continued, returning my attention to his face. “He’s enjoying his latest acquisition.”
“Richard,” I said as placatingly as I could. “Let go of me.”
He didn’t let go. Instead, his other meaty hand settled on my ribs, just under my breast. “He doesn’t appreciate you, does he?” he said. His grip turned painful.
“Let go?—”
Before I could finish, he was ripped away from me. I staggered back in surprise, gasping as his dirty fingernails raked the underside of my wrist.
“What’s going on here?” Xander demanded.
I had never been more relieved to see him, though a small part of me also wondered why my fiancé hadn’t been the one to come to my rescue.
His eyes flicked toward me and then lower—at my wrist, where Richard had scratched me. “You made her fucking bleed.”
“I-it was an accident,” Richard stammered. “My fingers slipped.”
I had never heard the mild-mannered Xander curse before, let alone display anger. It was so out of character for the unruffled prodigal son that all I could do was gape.
“What were your fingers doing near her?” Xander asked, and Richard emitted a rusty squeak. He gripped Richard by his Countess Mara tie so tightly that the fabric winched into the fleshy pouch of his throat.
“Xander, stop!” I grabbed his arm, surprised by the resistance beneath the wool of his suit. It felt like his sleeve cushioned an iron bar instead of human flesh. “Please don’t. He’s just drunk.”
At my cajoling, Xander released him with a scoff, shoving him several feet away so that he nearly stumbled. Several people were staring now, though most looked away when his angry eyes swept the crowd. I felt my breath leave my lungs when those cold eyes met mine.
“Let’s get you fixed up.”
“That’s not necessary?—”
“Come on, jailbird.”
In a grip that was no less forceful, I was swept across the marble floors toward the downstairs bathroom. Freshly cleaned for the party, the floors had been buffed to a shine, and fragrant soaps shaped like flowers ornamented the ceramic bowl by the sink.
Xander grabbed one and shoved my wrist under the faucet.
Over the weeks, I had come to enjoy his company. Henry had become increasingly busy with work, and Xander stepped in every time Henry couldn’t make it to another wedding-related appointment.
Henry’s busy schedule should have bothered me more; perhaps it would have if Xander hadn’t been there to distract me. We laughed often, especially when vendors mistook him for the groom-to-be. For some reason, he never corrected them. I always assumed he was being kind, letting me save face from my fiancé being embarrassingly absent.
I hissed when the soap made contact with the wound, and when I looked up in the mirror, I found him watching me.
“I should’ve broken his hand,” he said, still looking at me.
“Absolutely not.” Smoothing the water away, I shook off the excess drops. “Do you think getting into a fistfight with your father’s VP will make him happy? He wants this to be a party fit for the gods to represent this family as a united front. He’ll never forgive you if you ruin it. Thank you for coming to my rescue, but please, for your sake, stay out of trouble.”
His mouth was crooked, like I’d said something funny. “Whatever you say, jailbird.”
Why does he keep calling me that?
“Is this everything you hoped for?” he asked.
I didn’t know what he meant, but I got the impression he wasn’t referring to the party. The insinuation ran deeper. He was asking me if marrying Henry—and this life I chose—was everything I had hoped for.
Grabbing my hand, he blotted the scratches with a piece of tissue. My arm buzzed with nerves. This bathroom suddenly felt far too warm—and small. Distracted, I replied, “I guess not.”
I wasn’t prepared when he glanced up, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Then I think it’s time for a distraction.”
And this time, I knew what he meant.
Xander
“We shouldn’t leave the party,” Jordan protested, flicking her oversized hoop earring as she sipped her champagne.
We stopped for drinks after I cleaned up her cut. Venturing outside was the right decision. I had no idea what came over me tonight. I had never lost my calm before and needed to walk it off.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because you’re finally home for the weekend,” she said. “You should spend time with your father, not ditch his party and hide in the gardens.”
I mentally scoffed. My father didn’t care and would only miss my absence if I did something to sully the Maxwell name, such as beating up the VP of his company. “He’ll be fine.”
Plus, I only came to the party because of Jordan.
This unlikely friendship initially stemmed from our similar personalities. We were both peacemakers. She was apt at dealing with hotheaded clients, while I had put out the fires between Dad and Jasper on more than one occasion. Our ability to keep calm made for an unexpected alliance… except tonight.
The garden was equally calm when we stepped outside. Only a few guests loitered nearby to take a call or for a smoke break. Thankfully, none of them were my father’s associates.
Those disgusting men hit on Jordan at these parties, and my father let them. She hated entertaining these fools or being ogled by them—most of whom were more than thirty years older than her—but she maintained her composure to avoid offending anyone.
It made me want to break each of their jaws, and I didn’t know how much longer I could withstand the impulse. I still wanted to beat the shit out of Richard Small Dick, but Jordan’s arm banded around mine kept me placid.
She seemed to appreciate my company far more than those stuffy assholes. Over the past month, she had dragged me to every wedding planning meeting while making endless excuses about why my father was too busy to attend.
I suppose I made excuses, too.
I could decline to attend these silly appointments with her, but watching her mimic impressions and fabricate stories about strangers became one of my few pleasures in life. The way she listened made me feel like the only person on earth. She noted the things I liked and incorporated them whenever we met. The small considerations were a first for me.
Spending time with her had become infinitely better than not being around her, and now I couldn’t spend a day without speaking to her. Mere hours felt like days whenever I was with Jordan. But as always, I reminded myself that soon, she’d be nothing more than my father’s wife.
A sense of loss gripped me at the thought. It was strange to mourn something I never had. There was just such a finality to marriage.
I jerked when she suddenly stepped forward, taking me into a hug.
Jordan had an invisible line to my thoughts. She always knew when my mood dipped, and unlike everyone else in my life, affection was her answer to everything. She was the only person to hug me since Mom’s accident. The first time took me by surprise, and I still wasn’t used to it.
I swallowed, forcing myself not to inhale the scent that could knock a man to his knees. The heat thickening from her nearness suffocated me at times, while at others, I wanted to melt into it.
“How did you end up with someone like my father?” The question slipped out despite my resolve not to get involved in their business.
Jordan jumped out of my hold, ice settling on her face.
A shout of protest almost resonated from my chest, and I barely managed to swallow it. I didn’t want to let her go.
She speared me with those deep sky-blue eyes before smoothing her mien. I realized it sounded like I had insinuated he was out of her league.
I meant the opposite.
She was too good for him.
For a moment, I wondered if she’d give me a bullshit answer like I love him or We are meant to be. However, Jordan chose a different route.
“Your father and I met during a very difficult time in my life,” she disclosed carefully. “My parents passed away shortly after we met.”
My eyes rounded, back straightening at the unexpected response.
Heaving a deep sigh, she added, “There was a fire at my childhood home, a bad one. The fire department couldn’t put it out, nor could they get inside the house. My parents were trapped and burned alive.”
I grimaced.
Jordan glanced away, inspecting the sparse garden. I presumed she did it to hide the raw emotions brought forth by the memories. A tear slipped out of her eye, and she quickly swiped it away.
“There was a security camera outside of their home. It captured voice footage of my parents screaming in pain and coughing, asking for help. I… couldn’t watch it. But I heardit.” Her eyes fluttered back to mine. “A-anyway, by the time they put out the fire, there was nothing left of my parents. I couldn’t even give them a proper burial.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I-I didn’t handle it well. It would have been one thing had they died peacefully. But the way they passed away… was awful. I couldn’t stop thinking about the pain they must’ve experienced during their last moments.” Her hands slightly shook as she wrung her hands together. “And you know the worst part? I can’t remember what the last thing I said to them was. I wish to God I could say that it was I love you, but it was probably something like, Can you pass the salad?”
I couldn’t imagine the horror.
She gave me a tight smile. “Your father was really supportive throughout the whole ordeal. I was shaken, and I-I did a few stupid things,” she said a little too quickly. With reluctance, she added, “Henry never left my side even after I-I ended up in a mental institution.”
Jordan peeked at me, intently examining my expression in search of judgment.
I had none to spare. It was an acceptable reaction to the traumatic way she lost her parents, though what she saw in Henry finally made sense.
“He visited me daily and helped me transition out of the institution,” she added.
Jordan didn’t love Henry, I could feel it in my gut.
She glorified his part in “saving her” from a difficult predicament. He was there for her during trying times, and she pledged allegiance to her savior. She was vulnerable and would’ve transferred similar feelings to anyone.
I didn’t know why, but I was relieved at the thought.
She shifted nervously after sharing the heavy details. “Oh god, I’ve overshared,” she said when I hadn’t spoken. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”
On the contrary, she was brave for opening up about her parents’ tragic deaths and struggles with mental health. I wanted to take away her pain and erase all the awful memories until only happiness remained. I wanted to do something, say anything to make it better, though her flat tone told me the efforts would be futile. The wound was too fresh.
I did the only thing I could think of and distracted her. I pointed at a woman smoking a cigarette. “What do you think of her?”
“What?” Jordan asked, confused by the abrupt change of subject.
“The woman in the coral garden dress and the high bun,” I persisted. “How do you think she ended up at this party?”
Jordan regarded her with a blank stare for several moments. A relieved expression crossed her face when understanding dawned on her. She played along. “I bet she’s a dancer who recently moved to the city.”
“Why?”
“Dancer’s body with great legs. There is coordination in her movements, but she has a down-to-earth, small-town vibe,” Jordan deduced. “She moved to New York City recently to make a name for herself.”
She didn’t. Her name was Janet, and she was the daughter of one of Henry’s associates. Janet grew up in New York, was a shark in the real estate business, and a terrible dancer. “She’s got to be from the south,” I added. “I bet she is here looking for a sugar daddy to help her make rent until her career takes off.”
Jordan covered her mouth, gasping at the scandalous idea. “Now, that wouldn’t be very proper for a Southern belle.”
I smiled, eyes moving over her bright face. “No, it wouldn’t.”
She pointed at a man in a three-piece suit. “What about him?”
“Investment banker,” we announced simultaneously when he lifted a phone to his ear and cursed someone out.
We broke out in laughter.
Each story tumbling out of our mouths forged a new bond between us. By the end of the hour, we had given everyone a new identity and an imaginary life. Our made-up world was far more optimistic than the real one. With her wedding date looming over me, I was struggling now more than ever with my honest opinion.
Jordan had no idea what she had signed up for with my father. Henry had cajoled her inside a gilded cage without her realizing it, and the thought left an unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth.
She was a jailbird, just as I had suspected.
Jordan had become estranged from her childhood best friend because they didn’t get along with my father. It left me with little optimism that she’d heed my warning if I cautioned her against Henry.
Worse yet, what if it ruined our friendship, too?
I grabbed her soft hand and pulled her close. “Jordan, there is something you should know?—”
“What’s going on here?”
Jordan snatched back her hand.
We turned to find none other than his highness, Henry Maxwell, striding toward us with purpose. With each deliberate step, he exuded the authority of owning the ground beneath him, which I suppose he did, along with everything else. The garden surrounding the house was large, but he closed the distance with his head held high and his shoulders squared.
Despite being in his fifties, my father maintained the finesse of a younger man. He wasn’t particularly muscular but used his tall frame and good posture to command the room. He regularly dyed his hair, dabbled in Botox, and was always a little too tan. Image was everything to him.
We exchanged a cordial nod as he neared. Others might perceive the reception as cold, but keeping my distance from him allowed me to maintain civility. This was a warm, fuzzy welcome where Henry was concerned.
“Hi, babe,” Jordan exclaimed before catching herself.
The third glass of champagne I talked her into must’ve gone to her head, and she forgot my father’s preferences for a demure partner. Henry’s gaze flickered over her, taking in the lapse of her poised personality. She quickly swapped out the big wave, reverting to a reserved version of herself.
“Where have you been?” Although his voice was perfectly polite, there was a hint of condescension in his eyes. He was saving the nastiness until she signed the marriage certificate. “Our guests have been asking about you.”
“I was just taking a walk with Xander,” she answered plainly, bypassing the hint of irritation in his eyes.
He knew we’d bonded over the past month but was too busy to care. This was the first time he had witnessed us interact, and by the expression on his face, he must not have liked what he saw.
No one spoke. His calculating eyes rested on me, and I could tell a nefarious plan was brewing in his mind. “Actually, I’m glad you’re both here,” he said at last. “I need to talk with both of you.”
“What about?” I asked cautiously.
“Jordan doesn’t have anyone to walk her down the aisle at the wedding. You can do it,” he declared with finality in his voice.
My head lurched back. A looming sense of panic settled in at the thought she’d forever belong to another man. It left an indescribable emptiness inside. I couldn’t give her away. I won’t.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Jordan gushed.
“No.” The curt answer earned a scathing look from Dad and a hurt one from Jordan.
Wounded eyes rounded at my visceral reaction. She thought we had become friends, and I was finally on board with this wedding. The reflexive, violent protest threatening to consume me had nothing to do with liking Jordan. In fact, liking her too much might be the problem.
Fire raged in my gut. I had always played the amenable son. It was the only way to survive Henry. He had trapped my family in a web with a long reach. I wasn’t stupid enough to strike back before escaping the well-placed net. The plan was to keep a low profile until Jasper graduated and the NHL drafted me. Then the gloves would come off, and I’d take him on. No matter how often Henry baited me, I satiated his massive ego with a Yes, sir.
But this? Absolutely not. There was no way I could give Jordan away to him.
Dad hid his contempt with a cool voice. “I’ll give you time to think it over. I’m sure you’ll feel differently in the morning.”
Translation: if I didn’t do as he said, he’d make life hell for Mom and Jasper.
I ground my molars, but the retort was lodged in my throat. Others were relying on me, and I didn’t have the luxury to consider only my needs. He gave me an illusion of choice, but we were mere puppets, dancing to the strings he pulled.
This was his kingdom, and everyone here must swear allegiance to the fascist emperor. If he doubted our loyalty at any juncture, he tested us with sadistic games. He pitted Jasper and me against anyone who might compromise our “devotion” to the Maxwell name. After years of unnecessary mind games, I sidled out of his focal point by flying under the radar.
Normally, I wore my poker face meticulously, never showing weakness or regard for others in front of Henry. I wondered what he saw to goad me.
“Oh. It’s okay, Xander. You don’t have to give me away.” Jordan tried to sound breezy, but her voice had gone up an octave. She was hurt. Fuck.
Dad didn’t address Jordan’s concern. As far as he was concerned, the matter was settled. His gaze returned to her. “You’ve been drinking,” he deduced.
“Um. Just a couple glasses of champagne.” She spoke as if she were caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
I fought an eye roll. It was a party, and she could drink if she damn well pleased. Jordan was barely tipsy, but my father didn’t tolerate public intoxication of any kind.
As predicted, he was disenchanted. “You’re tired. Maybe you should call it a night.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed, then glanced at her phone for the time. “You’re right. I should go home. I still have so much to pack.”
I reminded myself that she was packing to move into this house after their wedding.
With a curt nod and barely hidden disapproval, he said good night and turned on his heel.
My curious eyes studied Jordan. Did she pick up on what lay ahead if she went through with the wedding?
“You don’t have to leave,” I said carefully. “You’re not a kid that needs to be sent to bed.”
Jordan unlocked her phone to call an Uber. “I have to wake up early anyway.” She sounded guarded, a shield fortifying her walls.
My refusal to walk her down the aisle, especially after finding out what happened to her father, was downright cruel. But I could never put into words how much the idea of giving her away gutted me.
Jordan slipped on her perfected PR mask. “Have a great rest of the night, Xander.”
“Jordan—” I started, wanting to erase the hurt expression on her face.
“You don’t have to explain,” she spoke with conviction. “I understand.” I was surprised when she enveloped me in another embrace before bolting.
The hollowness in my chest expanded. I couldn’t move for several moments as Jordan left me with feelings I couldn’t decipher until it was too late.
The dark circles under my eyes were the least of my concerns. I hadn’t slept in days. The weather outside matched my somber mood, with clouds looming over the guests assembled for my father’s wedding.
“This way, Mr. Maxwell,” one of the wedding coordinators called out as soon as I stepped onto the estate grounds.
The newly redesigned courtyard sat at the back of the mansion and was elegantly decorated with string lights and flowers lining the aisles. Chiavari chairs sprawled across the concrete flooring, and guests loitered near the bar holding pre-ceremony drinks in hand.
I was shown to the yurt erected near the ceremony, where Jordan hid before her big entrance. I entered, only to freeze at the sight of luxurious white silk on the ground. The material fascinated me until I caught her reflection.
Jordan sat in front of an oversized mirror with her back to me, the lace and tulle of her satin gown hiding the chair underneath. Sparkling crystal beads intricately sewn onto the delicate fabric caught the streaming rays that were filtering in. Her glossy, wavy blonde locks beneath the netted veil shone like gold, resembling the sun.
We stared at each other through the mirror.
How could a mortal be this fucking beautiful? She was supposed to be thirty-four, but there were no lines on her face or even a hint of one, with skin smooth like silk and lips plump like ripe cherries.
I could’ve sworn her gaze fell appreciatively on my sleek, tailored suit. The deep black jacket hugged my shoulders, tapering at the waist. A crisp white shirt peeked out from under the jacket. Her eyes shifted from my torso to my broad shoulders before looking away.
Neither of us spoke for several moments. We hadn’t spoken since the night I declined to walk her down the aisle. Something had broken between us, and I had no idea how to fix it.
Every step I took toward her was slow and meaningful. Once I reached her, a smile broke out on her face, my crimes all but forgotten.
“I hear you’re walking me down the aisle,” she said meekly, nervous not to rock the boat.
I received an email that my mother would be evacuated from her home. Henry’s stipend covered her mortgage, bills, and the nurse who cared for her. He also paid for my and Jasper’s boarding school expenses, tuition, apartment, car, credit cards, and everything else.
However, he had been careful never to grant us any real cash. He was calculative and plotted against anyone who tried to help us. Once, I asked my cousins for a loan so Mom could become financially independent. Henry nixed the plan and threatened to make things worse if my cousins caught wind of our family drama again. I had kept them out of it ever since. The NHL draft was the closest I came to financial freedom.
One email was enough to prove that I wasn’t in the same league as Henry. Mom would be destitute if I didn’t comply with his wish to walk Jordan down the aisle. He did it on purpose. He could tell something was off between us, and this was his sadistic way of making me pay and see how far he could push me.
“Thank you for doing this,” Jordan said appreciatively, knowing I wasn’t thrilled about the circumstances.
A curt nod was the only answer I could manage. Even looking at her beautiful goddamn face was painful, and it hurt worse than anything imaginable. I just couldn’t figure out the reason behind it.
Gracefully, Jordan rose from the chair and turned to face me. The netted cathedral veil was long enough to drag the ground, showcasing every detail. The intricacies of the outfit didn’t hold a candle to the woman wearing it. She looked like an angel—no, she looked like a goddess.
I wanted to hold her one last time to reserve the indescribable warmth being snatched from me. Call it a parting gift.
“Do I get a hug for my service?”
A perplexed expression crossed her face. She quickly camouflaged it with another award-winning smile and stepped forward. Two arms circled my neck for a quick hug.
She tried to pull back at the involuntary tensing of my shoulders, but my hand landed on the small of her back. “Are you in a rush to get somewhere?”
She laughed softly. “Just my wedding.”
“We have time.”
Jordan relaxed in my hold. I closed my eyes, nose digging into her hair. This was far past inappropriate, but I couldn’t hold back. She was warm like the sun, though her presence made me feel like I was floating in an ocean.
I never entirely understood what happened at that moment, except it felt right to stay wrapped up in her and wrong to let her go.
Giving her away was starting to feel like a regret I’d never overcome.
Jordan let go when one of the wedding coordinators poked her face inside the yurt. “Ready? Ceremony is about to start.”
Forcing my gaze on anywhere but her, I shoved my hands in my suit pocket.
“Let’s do this,” Jordan said happily as she ushered me out of the yurt.
She was momentarily successful when she wrapped an arm around my bicep with her bouquet in the other. I was distracted by the heat emanating from the touch and the scent of her perfume. She must’ve dabbed some on her pulse points again.
I swallowed thickly when my gaze landed on her slender neck.
When I blinked next, we were walking toward the altar. Prelude music hushed the guests’ chatter. My father and a reverend in all-black took center stage. The reverend asked the guests to rise and welcome the bride. There was a unanimous gasp when they saw Jordan in her gown.
My cousin, Caden, was right. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Others were unaware that science dictated her as the most beautiful woman on earth and couldn’t pinpoint what about her face made her so aesthetically pleasing to them, so they leered at her to figure it out.
It wasn’t her face that enamored me, though. Even without the app, I knew she was the most beautiful and special person to me.
The heels of my shoes suddenly dug into the ground. I was significantly larger than her five-foot-seven model-like frame, so she had no choice but to come to a screeching halt before reaching the aisle.
“Let’s leave.” The words tumbled out of my mouth at the sight of everything that’d be taking her away from me.
Jordan giggled under her veil, assuming it was an oddly timed joke. “Great idea. You distract the guests while I take off my heels and run?—”
“Don’t marry him, Jordan,” I hissed forcefully.
Her smile faltered at my words, which were devoid of humor. The crowd waited eagerly, speculating on the holdup. She turned red from embarrassment. “W-what?”
I didn’t have a plan, and we were ten feet from her wedding ceremony, yet my lips moved of their own volition. “Don’t do this, Jordan.”
Jordan stared at me like the carpet had been yanked out from under her feet. “Oh, God. Your father was right. You think I’m just a cheap floozy marrying him for money, don’t you?”
I reeled back, affronted. “That’s not it.”
If I had to guess, Henry told her that Jasper and I didn’t have a high opinion of her. It hurt that Jordan believed him. Did she think I’d been faking our friendship all along?
“He’ll make you miserable, Jordan,” I tried again. “He doesn’t love you.”
She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh as if she had been anticipating this reaction. “Xander, I know your father remarrying is difficult for you to process?—”
“I don’t give a shit what he does. I just don’t want him doing it to you.”
“He isn’t doing anything to me,” she whispered, mortified over having this conversation in the middle of her wedding. “He’s a good man.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Xander, I respect that you and Henry have your differences, but I won’t listen to a word against him,” she spoke out of the corner of her mouth. Outwardly, she put on a fake smile for the curious guests to mollify the cringeworthy situation.
But I didn’t give a shit if they stared. “He has brainwashed you,” I snapped.
“He didn’t,” was her rebuttal. “He was there for me when my life fell apart. Do you know what happens at a court-mandated mental institution? They said I was a danger to myself and society. No one could get me out, but Henry stepped in and took responsibility for me. He even petitioned for conservatorship to check me out of that horrible place.”
What the fuck?
I stared at her in horror. “You willingly gave him power of attorney?” I asked, appalled.
When they got married, Henry forced my mother to give up her career and rely solely on him. I was stunned upon learning that Jordan planned to keep working after the wedding. The puzzle pieces finally fell into place.
It didn’t bother him if Jordan “kept herself busy” because he already owned her. If there was one thing Henry loved more than a beautiful woman, it was having complete control of her life. She could never go against him. He’d have her committed if she tried to leave him, saying she was mentally unfit to make the decision.
Jordan had signed her life away.
Fuck.
I shook her shoulders with urgency. “What have you done, Jordan?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, perplexed.
“He’ll never let you go if he’s your conservator,” I stated the disturbing truth. “He’ll destroy you.”
My chest constricted at the thought of evil darkness absorbing this beautiful, bright light. The sun would set forever and would never shine again.
A dagger sliced through my chest, and I finally grasped why I didn’t want to walk her down the aisle to marry another man—why I couldn’t let her go and was making a spectacle in the middle of her wedding.
I have fallen in love with my father’s bride.
The weight of the realization slapped me hard. I knew this weekend would end poorly; I merely didn’t foresee the reason.
I wanted to take Jordan in my arms and run. Anywhere with her was better than the most luxurious places without her, but where could we go? I was nineteen and in college. It’d be short-lived happiness even if I somehow convinced her. My father lived for vengeance. He’d institutionalize her as revenge and leave Mom and Jasper penniless to punish me.
Resentment like I had never known flowed through me. It was directed at my brother, my sick mother, and everyone I loved. Every time I wanted something for myself, my hands were tied because of them. I gave up a career with the NHL and attended college locally to save Jasper from Henry’s wrath. I did as Henry asked so he wouldn’t cut Mom’s monthly stipend.
I had happily made those sacrifices but never saw this one coming—the one that’d wreck me—giving Jordan up.
Jordan was a queen. She’d never run away with a teenager without money or income, and everything she owned belonged to him. The same man paid for my home as well as my bills.
If he’d allowed my mother to work during their marriage, he couldn’t have kept the three of us under financial captivity. Economic abuse was also a form of abuse, and I vowed one day to break free of it. I’d achieve everything to give her the life she deserved—one fit for the sun.
One day, she’d see what I had accomplished, and finally, she’d want to hold my hand and walk out of this hellhole together.
Jordan gazed up at me with glassy eyes, trying to understand the conflict warring in my expressions. A whisper of gossip broke out amongst the guests as we stared at one another. It was enough for Henry to lose his calm. He jokingly assured the guests that the blushing bride was feeling shy, though I didn’t miss the bite in his tone. Angry footsteps approached us, and I knew my worst fear was about to become a reality.
Our time together had come to an end.
A single noteworthy tear slid down her right cheek. Perhaps it finally dawned on her that she’d been dismissing Henry’s reg flags until it was too late, and she was in an inescapable predicament.
Or could it be that she was also mourning what we never had?
Neither of us looked away as Henry gripped her hand. He tore her away from me and walked her toward the ceremony. With this small act, Henry accomplished the one thing he had been trying to accomplish my entire life.
He had finally pushed me far enough to break me.
A single tear, similar to the one Jordan had shed, slipped out of my left eye as I turned and walked away, refusing to look at the sun ever again.