Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up in my childhood bedroom. The familiar floral wallpaper and collection of old stuffed animals should have been comforting, but my heart felt like a hollow space in my chest. I had told my family a vague version of the truth-that Jaxon had been dishonest. I couldn't bring myself to say the words "secret wife."

My phone buzzed with a text from Jaxon. "Morning, beautiful. Thinking of you. Let's go look at engagement rings today."

Bile rose in my throat. He was moving on to the next item on his list. I didn't reply.

I needed to clear my head, to feel the solid ground beneath my feet. I decided to go for a run, a long one. As I neared the city center, I saw a small crowd gathered outside the county courthouse. My feet slowed to a stop.

There, on the courthouse steps, stood Jaxon and Janice. He was in a sharp suit, and she was wearing a simple but elegant white dress, holding a small bouquet of lilies. They were laughing, posing for a photo as they held up a piece of paper. A marriage certificate.

It wasn't a secret. It was official. They were having a small, legal ceremony today, before the grand, fake proposal he had planned for me.

I ducked behind a large planter before they could see me, my body trembling with a fresh wave of shock and rage. I could hear their voices.

"Are you sure about this, Jaxon?" Janice asked, her voice laced with mock concern. "Proposing to her tonight? What if she says no?"

Jaxon laughed, a sound that now seemed harsh and cruel. "She won't. She's completely in love with me. It'll be a big, public proposal at the Tate Corp gala. It has to be public, so everyone sees me doing right by her, fulfilling Denzel's last wish. After that, this whole thing is just a formality."

"And then you're all mine," Janice said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I've always been all yours," he replied, kissing her deeply.

I felt sick. I was a pawn in his twisted game of honoring his dead brother. A public spectacle to make him look noble.

My phone buzzed again. It was Jaxon. "Change of plans for tonight. Put on that blue dress I love. A car will pick you up at 7 for the Tate Corp gala. I have a surprise for you."

The irony was suffocating. He was inviting me to my own humiliation.

I stood there for a long time after they left, the world moving in a blur around me. But a cold resolve began to form in the pit of my stomach. If he wanted a spectacle, I would give him one. But it wouldn't be the one he was expecting.

That evening, I let the car take me to the grand ballroom. It was decorated in silver and gold, chandeliers dripping with crystals. Hundreds of people from the city's elite milled around, sipping champagne. I saw Jaxon standing near the stage, looking handsome and confident. He saw me and his face lit up with that practiced, perfect smile.

He walked over, taking my hand and kissing it. "You look stunning, Elfrieda."

"You clean up nice, too," I said, my voice steady.

Later in the evening, the lights dimmed. Jaxon walked onto the stage, a microphone in his hand. A hush fell over the crowd.

"Good evening, everyone," he began. "Thank you all for coming. I wanted to share a special moment with you all tonight." He looked directly at me, his eyes shining under the spotlight. "Elfrieda Stewart, you came into my life when I needed you most. You are the kindest, most wonderful woman I have ever known."

He was reciting a script. I could almost hear the "for my brother" at the end of each sentence.

He got down on one knee, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a massive diamond ring. The crowd gasped.

"Elfrieda, will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you marry me?"

All eyes were on me. I could feel their anticipation. I looked at Jaxon, at his hopeful, fake expression. I thought about the list, about Janice, about the marriage certificate. I opened my mouth to say no, to expose him right there.

But then I saw my parents and my brother in the crowd, their faces beaming with pride. I couldn't shatter their happiness like this. Not yet. I would play his game, just for a little longer.

I forced a smile. "Yes," I whispered into the microphone he held out for me. "Yes, I'll marry you."

The room erupted in applause. Jaxon slid the ring onto my finger. It felt heavy, cold, and foreign. As he stood to kiss me, a sudden, deafening crash echoed through the ballroom.

One of the smaller chandeliers directly above the stage had broken from its chain. It swung down, a pendulum of crystal and metal.

Panic ensued. People screamed and scrambled to get away. My first instinct was to pull Jaxon back, but he was already moving.

He wasn't moving toward me.

He was sprinting toward the edge of the stage where Janice stood, her hand over her mouth in a perfect picture of fear. "Janice!" he yelled, his voice raw with genuine terror.

He reached her just as a piece of falling debris grazed her arm. He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her with his body, his face a mask of frantic concern.

He didn't even glance back at me.

I was still standing in the center of the stage, frozen in shock. A shard of crystal, sharp and heavy, fell from above and struck my arm. A searing pain shot through me, and I cried out, stumbling backward. Blood bloomed through the sleeve of my blue dress, a stark, ugly red.

I looked at Jaxon. He saw me. Our eyes met for a split second. He saw the blood, my pained expression. But his attention was immediately pulled back to Janice, who was now leaning against him, whimpering about her "terrible shock."

"It's okay, I've got you," he soothed her, his voice a low, comforting rumble meant only for her.

He looked back at me, his expression hardening into one of annoyance. "Elfrieda, get off the stage. You're in the way of the emergency crews."

Then he turned his back on me completely, scooping a perfectly healthy Janice into his arms and carrying her through the panicked crowd toward the exit. He left me standing there, bleeding and abandoned, in the middle of the glittering disaster he had created.

The pain in my arm was nothing compared to the cold, dead certainty that settled in my heart. I wasn't just a task to be completed. I was disposable.

The last thing I saw before my vision tunneled and the floor rushed up to meet me was my brother Jameel, his face a storm of fury, pushing his way through the crowd toward me.

I woke up in a hospital room. The sharp, antiseptic smell filled my nostrils. My arm was bandaged and in a sling. Jameel was asleep in a chair by my bed, and my mother was dabbing my forehead with a cool cloth.

"Mom?" I whispered, my throat dry.

Her eyes flew open. "Oh, honey, you're awake." She squeezed my hand. "You gave us such a scare."

"Where's Jaxon?" The question was automatic, a reflex from a life that no longer existed.

My mother's face tightened. My brother stirred, his eyes blinking open.

"He's not here," Jameel said, his voice rough with anger. "He hasn't called. He hasn't even texted."

As if on cue, my phone, sitting on the bedside table, lit up with a notification. It was a social media post. From a friend of a friend. A picture of Jaxon and Janice sitting at a cozy, 24-hour cafe. Janice was sipping a hot chocolate, a small bandage on her arm. The caption read: "So glad Janice Tate is okay after that horrible accident at the gala. Jaxon Tate hasn't left her side for a second. True love."

I picked up the phone and showed it to my mother and Jameel.

My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Jameel's face turned a dark, dangerous shade of red. He stood up, looking like he was ready to commit murder.

"That's it," he said through gritted teeth. "This is over."

I looked at the photo, at Jaxon's concerned face bent toward his real wife, and I finally let myself feel the full, unadulterated rage. I had sacrificed so much for him. For my love for him, I had lost a baby.

Three months ago, I had discovered I was pregnant. I was ecstatic. But the doctor warned me it was a high-risk pregnancy and I needed to avoid all stress. I had tried to tell Jaxon, but he was so busy "working." He was actually on a secret vacation with Janice in the Bahamas. I saw the trip photos on her private account later. The stress of his absence, the gnawing suspicion that something was wrong, it had been too much. I miscarried. I lost our child, and he never even knew. I had grieved alone, telling myself he was just busy, that he would be there for me when it mattered.

The memory, combined with the fresh betrayal, broke something inside me. A sob tore from my throat, raw and agonizing.

"Elfrieda, what is it?" my mother cried, gathering me into her arms.

"I was pregnant," I gasped, the words tumbling out between sobs. "I lost the baby. He was with her. He was on vacation with her while I was losing his child."

The room went silent, except for the sound of my own heartbroken cries. My mother held me tighter, her own tears soaking my hair. Jameel just stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, his body rigid with a fury so profound it seemed to vibrate.

He looked at me, his eyes full of a pain that mirrored my own. "Why, Elfrieda? Why did you stay with him? Why did you agree to marry him tonight?"

"Because of Denzel," I whispered, the final piece of the ugly truth falling into place. "He's doing all of this for Denzel."

My mother pulled back, her face a mask of confusion and grief. "Denzel? What does Jaxon's brother have to do with this?"

"He loved me," I said, the realization dawning on me with sickening clarity. "Denzel loved me. But he was sick, and he knew he was dying. So he made Jaxon promise. He made Jaxon promise to take care of me, to marry me, to love me in his place."

The full weight of the charade, of Jaxon's cruel and selfish interpretation of his brother's last wish, finally settled over us. It wasn't about love. It was about duty. And I was just the collateral damage.

I looked at my bandaged arm, at the empty space on the chair where Jaxon should have been. The diamond on my finger felt like a shackle.

"I'm done," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I'm taking it off."

I started to pull at the ring, my fingers fumbling. "I'm leaving him. I'm leaving this city. I'm never looking back."