Chapter 2 02

02

I V Y

~One Week Later~

Yes.

That was the response I gave Marianne. Should I have taken my time to think about it? Probably. But I didn't. What could possibly go wrong? Anything that went wrong could be compensated with the five million dollars.

When she made that offer, my mom's bills were all I could think about. I'd even let myself think of my mom healthy, happy and cancer free.

So here I stood, at the venue where I was supposed to be married. I'd dressed up in what little presentable clothes I could find at home. A white knee-length dress with pink polka dots, and black loafers. I'd even managed to style my unruly brown waves.

"I'm glad you could make it," Marianne said once she walked in and saw me. Of course, I could make it. Jemma was not pleased, she threatened to cut my pay again. But I didn't need her, I would have five million at the end of the day.

Subtly, I looked for her son behind her shoulders but I couldn't find him. I didn't know what I was expecting, she hadn't shown me a picture of the man I was supposed to spend one year married to.

"Don't worry," she glanced at her wristwatch. "He'll be here in a minute."

I only nodded and took a seat. My knees bounced with nerves and I hoped I wasn't making a rash decision. Frankly, I didn't know these people.

The longer we waited, the more I felt like I was making the wrong decision. My heart pounded in my chest and before I could think too much about it, the doors slammed open.

A curly dark-haired man stormed in. He looked older than I was, but not by much. Maybe mid or late twenties. His eyes were red-rimmed and his shirt was worn haphazardly. He glared at Marianne when he spotted us, and his eyes passed over me. No acknowledgment. Nothing. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was still visible.

"That is Elliot Grayson," Marianne said with a tight lip smile. Then she stood to her feet, and grabbed me up. "He's your husband. Let's go."

She walked towards him and whispered words I couldn't hear. She looked tense, her eyes were hard as she spoke. Elliot's eyes washed over her and stopped on me.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze turned icy. Disgust and disdain swirled in his piercing grey orbs as they trailed down my frame. My heart sank to my stomach, and my mouth dried up. The greeting on the tip of my tongue fizzled out.

"... you will marry her, Elliot." I caught the end of Marianne's words and she turned to me with a smile that was forced and sickly sweet. Wiping my hands on my dress, we followed her out to the arena.

A clergyman stood at the end of the hall. Elliot and I walked to him. Not side by side, no. Elliot was already halfway there, while I lagged behind. I felt he was trying to be done with the marriage. He probably had a stunning girlfriend somewhere.

I wish I knew why he was forced to marry me. But I didn't. I asked but Marianne dismissed me. She said it was personal but I shouldn't freight.

When I was young, marriage had been my dream. I'd pictured my Prince Charming. Those were the thoughts that I fell asleep to almost every night. Until I realized dreams were just that... dreams. But I let myself hope.

Finally, I stood in front of the clergyman and he instructed us to face each other. Marianne sat somewhere at the back as the only witness to this sham of a marriage.

He didn't waste time. In fact, he rushed through our vows when Elliot snapped at him. "Does it look like I want to get married to this? Hurry the fuck up." He'd sneered, looking me up and down. The judgement was palpable and my eyes stung.

He looked at me the way everyone looked at me. Worthless. Pathetic. Poor. I fought the tears at his cruel jab. The words he didn't say were not hard to decipher when he looked at me. He hated me. I could feel it.

I didn't know the man. I should not feel bad that he hated me. But I assumed he would be decent. I wasn't asking for much, I only wanted to be treated like a human being and not a church rat.

The clergymen repeated the vows to me. "Do you, Ivy Cole, take Elliot Grayson as your husband till death do you part?" And I replied, "Yes, I do."

As soon as the vows were exchanged, Marianne brought the rings. Elliot flinched from my hold when I tried to put the ring on his finger.

"Don't you dare touch me. I don't need you spreading whatever disease you have," he said with a hiss. Marianne offered an apologetic smile. I gave a single nod and handed his ring back to Marianne then put my own ring by myself with shaky fingers.

We tied the knot and I felt like I'd just sold myself to the devil. The only consolation was that I was now five million dollars richer.

After that, Marianne led us to the courthouse where we signed our marriage papers.

"Girls like you are all the same. Eager to sink your gold digging claws into innocent men and spread your legs for a few pennies. I don't know how much she's paying you," Elliot spat after signing his certificate. He aimed a glare at both Marianne and I. "But I won't be around to find out. Congratulations, you're now a Grayson."

The words pierced my heart like an arrow. I liked to think he was wrong, but I knew better. After all, I jumped at Marianne's offer before she even completed her sentence.

I'd been holding my tears ever since Elliot walked into the venue. And everytime he opened his mouth to speak, I held my breath and braced myself. Because I knew anything that comes out of his mouth would be nothing but cutting.

While we waited for the photographers, Elliot paced. He would stop, glare at me then continue pacing. His fists clenched and unclenched at his side.

Suddenly, his hand shot out and he gripped my wrist. Tight. His voice was laced with venom as he asked; "Do you understand that you're a whore?"

I cringed at the word then whimpered in response and looked to Marianne for help. But she looked away with a frown on her face. I was not a whore. I hadn't even had sex yet. But they didn't know that. I bet Marianne thought I was a whore too.

She only knew that my mom was sick and I had bills to pay. She didn't care for much information and she didn't give up much information either. And she probably judged me for not asking much.

I felt my bones grind together as Elliot's grip on my hand tightened. He was going to leave hand prints, with how tight he held me. Then he made a promise before shoving past us and the photographers.

"You've successfully ruined my life. And I promise, I will ruin yours too."

His hand print had begun to form on my wrist and I stared at it, regret burning at the back of mind.