Chapter 2 Second chapter: a cold union

The ceremony passed in a blur, but Jillian felt every second of it like a knife being twisted slowly, deliberately, into her chest. She had stood at the entrance of the church, clutching the bouquet of white roses Emily had chosen months before, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure the guests could hear it. The entire church was filled with people-business executives, society elites, even a few well-known faces from the media, all here to witness the grand merger of the Hartwell and Reynolds families. And none of them knew what was really happening.

The walk down the aisle had felt like an eternity, her steps slow and hesitant, her mind racing with everything that had gone wrong. Emily had disappeared. Her parents had asked the impossible. And now she, Jillian Hartwell, was about to marry a man who didn't love her. A man who had barely spoken to her beyond polite greetings at family events. A man who was supposed to marry her sister. Christopher stood at the altar, looking every bit the powerful CEO he was-tall, impeccably dressed in a custom-tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with not a strand out of place. His expression was cold, unreadable, his eyes fixed straight ahead as if he were staring through her, not at her. He had wanted Emily. He had loved Emily. And now, he was being forced to marry Jillian, the shadow, the second choice. The moment the priest asked if she took him as her husband, her voice was barely audible as she said, "I do." It felt surreal, like she was standing outside herself, watching someone else live this moment. Then, it was Christopher's turn. His voice, deep and steady, cut through the tension in the air as he said, "I do." But there was no warmth, no emotion behind the words. Jillian could see it in his eyes-the coldness, the anger barely restrained. This was not the life he had planned. This was not the woman he had imagined at his side. The kiss was a formality, a brush of lips that lasted only a second, and Jillian felt nothing but the icy distance between them. The reception was a haze of polite conversations, forced smiles, and toasts to a future neither of them believed in. Guests clinked glasses, congratulated them, and pretended not to notice the tension hanging thick in the air. Jillian barely touched her glass of champagne, her stomach too tied in knots to eat or drink. Christopher, for his part, was the perfect image of composure. He thanked the guests, shook hands with board members, and smiled at his parents. But not once did he look at Jillian-not really. Every time their eyes met, it was as if he couldn't bear to be in the same room, let alone married to her. The worst part was that Jillian understood. He had loved Emily-everyone knew that. Emily was everything she wasn't: bold, captivating, the kind of woman who commanded attention wherever she went. Christopher had been smitten with her from the moment they met, and their relationship had been the talk of their social circles for months. They were the perfect couple on paper-two beautiful, powerful people, their union a business deal wrapped in romance. Now, that romance was gone, and all that remained was the deal. When the last guest had left, Jillian found herself standing alone in the grand ballroom, the remnants of the reception scattered across the tables. The chandelier above cast a soft glow on the polished floor, but the opulence of the room did nothing to calm the storm inside her. She felt Christopher's presence before she saw him. He approached her from behind, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, clipped. "Jillian." Her name on his lips felt strange, foreign, as if he had never spoken it before today. She turned to face him, bracing herself for what was coming. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto hers, but there was no warmth in them. Only cold calculation. "This isn't what I wanted," he said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. "I know," Jillian replied softly, her throat tightening. She wanted to say more, but what could she say? That she hadn't wanted this either? That this was supposed to be Emily standing beside him, not her? That none of this felt real, like they were living someone else's life? Christopher's jaw tightened, and for a moment, his icy exterior cracked, revealing the depth of his anger. "I was supposed to marry your sister. Emily and I-" He stopped, the words hanging heavy between them. "We had a plan. This... this was never part of it." Jillian's chest ached at the bitterness in his voice. She had known, of course, but hearing him say it so plainly, so coldly, felt like a slap to the face. She had always been second to Emily, always the quieter one, the one people overlooked. But standing here, as his wife in name only, the reality of just how little she meant to him hit her harder than she expected. "I'm sorry," Jillian whispered, unsure what else to say. "I didn't ask for this either." Christopher's gaze hardened. "No, but here we are. Married." The word came out like an accusation, as if it were her fault. "The deal is done, the companies will merge, and everything goes on. That's all this ever was. A business arrangement." Jillian flinched at the harshness of his words. She had known the marriage was about business, but hearing it spelled out so coldly made it feel even more suffocating. He took a step closer, his presence towering over her. "I don't know why Emily left," he said, his voice now quieter but no less intense. "But I don't love you, Jillian. I never will." Jillian swallowed the lump forming in her throat. His words hung in the air, each one sinking deeper into her like stones dragging her down. She had known this-of course she had-but hearing it so clearly made it all the more real. "I understand," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of their new reality pressing down on both of them. Jillian could feel the chill of the room creeping into her bones, the distance between them growing larger with every passing second. Christopher straightened, his expression hardening again. "This is how it's going to be," he said, his tone businesslike. "We'll play our roles for the sake of the companies. In public, we're the perfect couple. In private..." He trailed off, but the implication was clear. There would be nothing between them beyond the surface. No affection, no real partnership-only duty. Jillian nodded, the ache in her chest growing stronger. "I understand," she repeated. Without another word, Christopher turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the empty ballroom, her hands still clutching the bouquet of roses that had wilted in her grasp. The silence that followed was deafening.