Chapter 3 Coincidence?

Jayden’s POV

I took a long sip of my drink and stared into the distance, my mind floating away.

The bar was quiet, as usual, which was why I came here—to a place where no one would recognize me. The cold night took my mind back to the night that changed my life. The night I lost everything dear to me.

I could still see the cold steel of the gun and hear the voices of the men clad in black, accompanied by the pleading voices of my mother and father. My father was a politician, and to this day, I can still hear my mom’s voice warning him to stay out of trouble.

That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, so my mom offered to read me a bedtime story while we watched TV in the sitting room. I had rushed upstairs to my room in excitement, and when I came back with my book in hand, I was stunned to see my parents on the floor with guns pointed at them.

My mom had seen me first and subtly signaled for me to hide. I crouched behind a chair, frozen in fear. They seemed to be having some sort of argument, and those men weren’t listening to their pleas; their guns were ready to blow their brains out.

Bang! My eyes widened as my mom fell to the floor, her lifeless eyes glued to mine. My dad didn’t have time to react; a second loud bang followed immediately, and his body dropped dead beside hers.

I clamped my shaky hands over my mouth to stifle any sound as they did a quick search of the room to make sure no one had seen what happened. I was just a kid, but even then, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

After that day, various stories filled the internet, and their deaths were labeled a "political accident." Some even called them criminals, but I knew better. My parents weren’t just eliminated; they were silenced. My father had gotten too close to something important, something they needed to protect at all costs.

And now, years later, it was still fresh in my mind. They made me lose everything I ever had, and they were going to pay for it.

To do that, I had to run for president, but there was an issue: I needed an ally who could give me information from the inside. I needed power and influence, and that’s where Celine came in. She was the daughter of one of the biggest politicians in the country, the key to the doors I couldn't open on my own.

That’s why we came to an agreement. We would get married; she would get me everything I needed from the right sources for my revenge, and in return, she would be the First Lady. But there was something she didn’t know. her father was one of the men I intended to burn to ashes.

Tomorrow was the day of our wedding, the day that would mark the beginning of my true journey. We were supposed to meet today at my favorite spot where we wouldn’t be noticed; we had important things to discuss.

I glanced at my watch and took another long sip from my glass. She knew I hated it when she was late. Where was she? After waiting for a few more minutes, I decided to head to the room where I’d be staying for the night. I would be gone before morning to return to the main hotel.

She knew where to find me when she arrived or perhaps she was already waiting for me there. With that in mind, I finished my drink, dropped some notes on the table, grabbed my coat, and trudged out of the bar.

I didn’t realize just how wasted I was until that moment. My vision was unfocused as I walked, but I didn’t falter. I threw another glance at my wristwatch, wondering why Celine was taking so long, and that was when I saw her.

She had just rounded a corner and stumbled as she tried to steady herself. The position of the lights cast a long shadow over her, illuminating curves that never failed to draw me in. Her long, silky honey-blonde hair shone brightly, causing me to swallow hard.

Yes, I’ve always been attracted to her. She was beautiful, with a stunning body and the silkiest hair I’d ever seen. That wasn’t the reason I was marrying her.

I had my own plans but tonight, with the alcohol coursing through my veins, I couldn’t help but yearn for her.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” I said, walking closer to her. Why was she here, anyway? We had meeting points, and this definitely wasn't one of them.

“What?” she slurred, and I frowned.

When I reached her, I noticed her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying. She also looked exhausted, which was surprising.

“Are you okay?” I asked with a hiccup.

“I need some sleep…” she slurred again.

This wasn’t the Celine I knew; she was acting completely different. I brushed it off, concluding it was probably the alcohol. With my arm around her, I led her to my room. Once inside, I moved her aside so I could lock the door.

“We have things to discuss, remember—” My words were cut short as she jumped into my arms and held me tightly.

“What’s going on?” I managed to ask, trying to distract myself from her soft breasts pressing firmly against my chest. I caught a scent of her hair and hummed. She definitely smelled different—like spicy vanilla—and I loved it. It didn’t smell like Celine, but my brain was too foggy to make sense of it.

While I was still basking in her scent, she pulled away, and before I could think, our lips were locked. I tried to pull away, but she wasn't budging. Instead, she wrapped an arm around my neck and deepened the kiss.

This was a bold move for Celine, as we’d never been intimate. Maybe she was stressed from the wedding preparations and needed relief. I could tell she was drunk as well. I, on the other hand, had always admired her, and seeing her kiss me like this, I couldn’t resist. The rational part of me screamed to put an end to it, but that voice was drowned out by the alcohol.

I finally accepted her kisses and slowly moved us to the bed.

I jolted awake the next morning to a loud knock on the door. With my head pounding, I wondered who would dare disrupt my sleep. The knock sounded again, louder and more urgent. I groaned and headed to the door, memories of last night replaying like a hazy dream.

I groaned again when I realized it was already morning and we were supposed to get married today. I glanced at the bed and saw she was still fast asleep. It must be one of my men outside.

I frowned when I saw one of Celine’s men standing there with blood-stained clothes and a battered face.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, dread settling in my gut. Was there an attack?

“I’m so sorry, boss—” he lamented, staring at the ground and breathing heavily.

“What the fuck is going on?” I repeated, my voice cold.

“It’s Miss Celine… she was kidnapped last night by masked men. We tried our best, but we couldn’t hold them off—”

“What are you talking about? We spent the night together,” I interrupted.

His face morphed into confusion and fear as he shook his head frantically. “No, boss… the attack happened last night. We lost most of our men, and I was lucky to make it out alive.”

My heart pounded as dread filled me. I turned and stared at the woman still fast asleep in my bed.

If that isn’t Celine, who the fuck is she?