Chapter 3
Before the wedding. I had put a lot of thought into how my wedding night would be. I wondered if I would have to have S*x with a man I hadn’t known before that day, and in all the fear of that, I had forgotten staying alone in a huge room with nothing to do and no one to talk to as a possibility.
I tossed and turned all night, barely getting any sleep.
1 someone had stocked in the wardrobe for me to.
The next morning, I wore one of the outfits Growing up poor, ! never got to splurge on myself. Any money I could save would only go into covering my grandpa’s treatments, and we still
fell short most times.
Wandering alone in that big house, I wished I could confide in her about the fake marriage I was stuck in.
But there I was, eating breakfast meant to feed twenty alone in the dining room.
Luna stared at me.
“Have you eaten?” I asked her.
“After you, Mrs. Whitlock.”
“Please call me Ms. Baker.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mrs. Whitlock. Sir wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t think Sir would know.” I tell her, looking around. The house was huge, and the chances of running into the man that i wanted to actively try to avoid for the next six months was less. “Where even is he?”
“He left home last night after talking to you, and he hasn’t returned since.”
“Oh.” I felt a pang in me. I knew our marriage was just for the sake of it, but I didn’t expect him to sleep with another lady on the night of our wedding at least.
“Sir works overnight all the time,” Luna quickly added. “He has a lot of meetings with clients who live abroad and he functions on their time.”
“Luna, it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Whitlock.”
“Ms. Baker, I corrected her.
“Ms. Baker,” She nodded. “A parcel came for you earlier in the morning today though.”
I knit my eyebrows, leaving the food I did not have the appetite to eat as she disappeared for a moment to return with a box that I opened quickly to reveal a new phone inside. The latest model in my hand was a far stretch from the half broken one
I had been using for the past five years, but I made it work since I couldn’t afford a new phone despite juggling between two jobs and taking care of my grandpa.
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Chapter 3
Until now, apparently.
I unlocked the already set–up phone to see that there was no contact in it except one.
‘Gabriel Whitlock‘
In the afternoon, his lawyer arrived with a perfectly drafted agreement like he’d said yesterday. I’d gone over it for an hour by myself before signing it.
I was tempted not to, but also afraid of how low Gabriel’s ‘stooping low‘ really was.
I did nothing that day. I wandered around the house and saw all the paintings like I was in an art gallery, I tinkered with my new phone for a while, I checked in on my grandfather who insisted he was enjoying every moment of being reunited with his old friends and asked me to not visit him but instead enjoy my ‘newly wed bliss‘, and napped more than I was used to.
In the evening. I mailed my resume to companies around me. I needed to get a new job since Heft my old one when I moved three hours away to marry an imperious man, but I was confident I could get another one without using the Whitlock name,
I was always at the top of my class even in college, and had over two years of experience working as a financial analyst at my previous company. I earned well, but cancer cost more. So even after working a full time job as their financial analyst, and then working part time as a waitress in an overnight diner, I still struggled to make ends meet. With no health insurance, we were considering taking a loan or putting out small house on mortgage when Gabriel’s grandparents, who happened to be my grandpa’s friends from school got in touch with him and again and offered to pay out his entire treatment with one simple condition: I had to marry their grandson. I was still convinced I could manage by myself and marrying a complete stranger was off the table but when my grandpa had to come out of retirement and take up a job for some extra cash, my heart broke looking at my sick grandfather work despite being in pain after treatments to unburden. me. That is when I agreed to marry him: Gabriel Whitlock.
I didn’t know what they did to convince their grandson to marry a nob*dy like me or why he agreed, but by his anger towards me, I could guess he was forced into it too.
Weemed like he got nothing
I wanted to sympathise with him, because at least I got something out of this wedlock. It
except losing his freedom and the title of the hottest bachelor in front of the world. But at the same time, I knew he was not saint. He was an arrogant man, self–centred, and had implied that I was a gold digger.
At night, I ate dinner by myself while the housemaids looked over me like I was a child. Or royalty.
te dinner by myself w
I didn’t see Gabriel at all for the next few days, and being alone turned into a habit. I spent my time getting pally with Luna and the others, learning how to cook the more refined dishes, swimming, and even reading books.
On the fourth night, I checked my mails. I’d heard back from three out of seven places I had applied to, including Wales.
Wales was a multibillion company that manufactured and distributed skincare, a direct competitor of the Whitlock company. They’d called me for an interview two days later, but I didn’t send in my confirmation yet. Even though there wasn’t a formal clause in the agreement we had signed, Gabriel had explicitly mentioned for me to not go about humiliating him publicly, and I wondered if his wife joining a rival company would go down well with him.
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Chapter 3
Probably not.
His number remained in my cell, and I went back and forth on the idea of calling him. But it was a quarter past twelve, and I hadn’t seen him in the house for days. A part of my heart felt tighter wondering if he was staying with someone else… another woman perhaps.
Sleep wasn’t easy that night, and I woke up early by myself the next morning, eating breakfast in haste. It was around nine- thirty in the morning when I sat alone in my room and like a nervous school girl, dialled Gabriel.
The phone rang, and on the fifth ring, it was picked up.
“Hello?”
I left the breath I didn’t know I was holding. This wasn’t Gabriel’s voice. “Gabriel?”
“Mrs. Whitlock? This is Peter, his personal assistant.”
‘This is Gabriel’s number, right?” He was probably in a meeting or something.
“No, ma’am. This is my work number. Gabe Sir did mention that he had given you my number to call if you need to reach
him.”
The anger for him that had managed to dissipate in the past few days was back, and the urge to punch something was stronger than ever. “I need to go through you to get to him?”
“I believe so,” Peter’s voice was small. “Can I pass your message to him?”
“No. No message.” I replied, and without giving him the chance to say whatever he was about to, I disconnected.
Here I was wondering if he’d mind me going for a job interview.
And there he was, not even considering me important enough to have his own number.
He actually had the audacity to feed his assistant’s number under his name.
Fuming. I opened my laptop and confirmed my interview for the next morning, without caring that it was with his rival
company.
Gabriel Whitlock could rot in hell after this.
