Chapter 4 My Little Bride

Jaxon’s POV:

Two hours ago, when my mother rushed in to tell me Talia had disappeared—and handed me the letter she left—I wasn’t surprised. I read it with a chuckle. Funny, really. She said money wasn’t enough. For Talia, money was always enough.

We’d been together for nine months. She kept pestering me about marriage—she didn’t want a meaningless relationship—so I gave in. Only for her to run off.

I was fine with that. We’d settle the score later. But my parents were obsessed with not ruining the family’s reputation. They insisted on finding a replacement bride, and I was heavily against it. Grandpa suggested they pay an actress or something, and pleaded with me to just go through with the plan.

Fine. I agreed. But things got more interesting when I heard that little, innocent Elizabeth Mitchell had agreed to marry me—for the right price.

That little girl was courageous, taking money to marry me. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Now, standing in front of the private hotel suite, I found my little bride in my younger brother’s arms. That fueled my anger—I didn’t like anyone touching what was mine, even if I wasn’t interested in it.

“Get your fucking hands off my bride,” I snapped. They both turned. The look on Elizabeth’s face made me sneer. She was acting all innocent and crying, as if she’d been forced into this. Meanwhile, she took money from my family.

I walked over, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up. “Brother—” Talon started, but I raised a hand, silencing him. Elizabeth was so fragile, I almost worried I might break her hand—her skin so pale, her lips puffy and pink.

She looked like snow. Her long black hair made her seem almost otherworldly. If only looks could reveal who someone truly was. “Get out, Talon,” I said, suppressing my anger. It was so fucking hard.

“Brother, please, she—”

“Get the fuck out.” I glared at him, jaw clenched. I wouldn’t hesitate to break his face if he didn’t leave right now.

He threw one last look at Elizabeth, and I groaned inwardly. How dare he look at what was mine?

Once he was gone, I turned my attention to my little bride. Her face was wet with tears, and I could tell she was barely breathing.

“Bride,” I muttered, and she shivered in my grip. I chuckled. “What’s your name?” Of course, I knew her name. My parents took her in six years ago, and we met four years back when I came home. She was just fourteen, playing with a remote controlled toy plane in the yard. I was amused—a girl her age, choosing something like that as a toy.

I remembered standing on the balcony, watching her sneak into my room after her plane landed there. When she heard my footsteps, she hid under the table, thinking I hadn’t noticed. Of course, I locked the door on my way out.

“I didn’t hear you,” I prodded when she still hadn’t answered.

“Eli...Elizabeth Mitchell,” she managed.

I nodded, letting go of her hand and stepping back to get a good look at my wife. She was definitely short, pale, and petite.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” I muttered, glancing at my watch. I had somewhere to be in an hour—somewhere that involved destroying an entire family. Unfortunately for them, they had to pay for what their daughter did.

“If you’re not downstairs and in that car in five minutes, find your own way to my house.” I looked her over one last time, noticing how red her face had become, then moved toward the door. I paused. “Use the stairs, bride.”

“But—” she stammered, about to protest, but quickly swallowed her words when I looked at her over my shoulder.

“Four minutes left,” I reminded her. She scurried to pick up her purse and hurried past me, careful not to brush against me as she dashed down the hall.

She was a bold one, collecting money just to marry me? I definitely didn’t expect that from little Elizabeth. But I’d make sure the money went to good use.

I walked to the elevator, and my phone rang. It was my assistant. “Boss, we got all the backdoor information on the Norman family,” he reported.

I chuckled. Nine months ago, when Talia first approached me, her family’s business was going bankrupt. She was feisty—bold, even—and slowly wormed her way into my bed. She was obedient, and I liked obedient women. I didn’t hesitate to invest in their business, and in nine months, it was thriving. And now she said money wasn’t enough?

“Release it. Make sure they go bankrupt before the end of the day,” I ordered, then hung up.

Downstairs, my driver waited. My parents stood by the car. The guests had already left.

“Uh… Jax, where’s Beth?” my mother asked. I frowned. We’d been married less than an hour and I was already responsible for her whereabouts?

“Don’t be upset, just… Talon said you were upstairs with her,” she added. I hated being questioned.

I checked my watch—exactly five minutes. My little bride still wasn’t downstairs. How could she be? Her legs were short, and she didn’t look athletic. It must be hard running down all those stairs.

“Make sure my bride is at my house when I get back,” I said to my mother, and she sighed, glancing at my father for support.

“Listen, Jax, your mother and I consider Beth a daughter. We don’t want to see her hurt. Can you please be lenient and understanding with her?”

My brows furrowed. “Do I need guidelines from you on how to treat my wife?”

“Of course not. Could you ever just listen to me with a calm head?” My father was losing his temper, but I didn’t have time to argue.

“No, Father. I won’t listen. I want my wife home by the time I’m back from work. Make sure she gets there.” I slipped into the car, and as it pulled away, I glanced in the rearview mirror.

There she was—my little bride—sweaty, gasping for air.