Chapter Three
Elowen’s POV
I brushed my hair in front of the mirror and gave a distracted “Mm-hmm.”
My indifference clearly bothered Preston. His tone sharpened.
“Don’t give me that attitude. I know you’re hurt, but you can’t force someone to love you. I’ve already had the five-million-dollar check mailed to you. Take the money and leave New York. Brielle is softhearted. Seeing you will only make her feel guilty, and I don’t want her getting any more upset.”
I almost laughed.
His ego never ceased to amaze me.
“Preston.” I picked up my lipstick and slowly applied it. “Do you really think you’re that irresistible? Do you honestly think you’re some priceless treasure worth chasing after?”
“Ellie, stop pretending you don’t care!” Preston raised his voice. “You’re an ugly woman with no family or connections. How do you expect to make it in these circles without me? You’re only playing hard to get because you think you can force me to change my mind. Well, it won’t work!”
“Is that so?” My expression turned cold. “Then let me tell you something. The wedding next month is going ahead as planned.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end before Preston burst out laughing.
“As planned? Who are you going to marry, thin air? Ellie, you’ve lost your mind.”
“There will be a groom,” I said, emphasizing every word. “But the man standing beside me will never be you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“One more thing. Don’t call me again. Hearing your voice might make my fiancé sick.”
I ended the call, blocked his number, and walked into the dressing room.
Once I was dressed, I headed downstairs and found a black sedan waiting by the curb.
The window rolled down, revealing Grayson’s stern profile.
“Get in.”
The registration process at the City Clerk’s Office went surprisingly smoothly.
When I held the marriage certificate in my hands, I still felt a little dazed.
Before I knew it, I had actually become someone’s wife in the eyes of the law.
From there, Grayson took me straight to one of the most exclusive bridal boutiques on Fifth Avenue.
“Mr. Whitmore, this is only a contract marriage. Do we really need to make such a big production out of it?”
I looked over the rows of wedding gowns covered in diamonds and pearls, then turned toward Grayson, who was sitting on a couch reading through some documents.
He didn’t even look up.
“It’s my wedding. Even if it’s only for show, it will still be the most lavish wedding in the city. Go try them on.”
I shrugged and followed the attendants into the fitting room.
When I came out again, I was wearing a custom starlight gown handmade by one of Paris’s leading designers.
More than ten thousand crystals covered the skirt, sparkling beneath the lights. The strapless neckline showed off the delicate line of my collarbones, and the fabric made my skin seem to glow.
I lifted the skirt, walked over to Grayson, and turned in a circle.
“What do you think, Mr. Whitmore? Will this one work?”
Grayson looked up and froze.
His gaze traveled from my face to my collarbones, then down my waist before finally settling on the skirt.
“It’s ugly.”
He abruptly looked away, his voice slightly hoarse.
I blinked and looked down at myself.
“Ugly? I think it looks great. Maybe the problem is your taste.”
“If I say it’s ugly, then it’s ugly.”
Grayson stood, crossed the room, and pulled me into his arms.
“Grayson, what are you doing?”
Startled, I instinctively tried to pull away.
“Don’t move.” He lowered his head, his warm breath brushing my ear. “This dress shows too much. My wife doesn’t need other men staring at her.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Mr. Whitmore, are you jealous?”
“Jealous? Don’t flatter yourself.”
He gave a cold snort and released me before turning to the attendant.
“Pack this one. And bring her a few more with higher necklines.”
Over the next few days, Grayson and I got along surprisingly well.
He had a sharp tongue, but he took care of me in every other way. When he learned that I loved sweets, he had his assistant bring me fresh cakes every day from the most in-demand bakery in the city. When he discovered that I loved the city lights at night, he had the penthouse fitted with wall-to-wall windows.
Meanwhile, Preston seemed completely unaware of the trouble coming his way.
He flaunted his relationship on social media every day and sent me several messages. He claimed he had heard I was planning a wedding with no groom and told me to stop embarrassing myself. He also said he would never attend the wedding and wanted to see how I would handle the humiliation when no groom showed up.
Honestly, the messages only made me want to laugh.
The night before the wedding, another notification popped up on my phone.
It was Preston again.
I opened it and saw a picture of Brielle wearing an expensive diamond necklace as she leaned against Preston. They were both beaming at the camera.
The caption read, “My treasure is finally back where she belongs. You’re the only one I want for the rest of my life. Some people need to let go of their impossible fantasies.”
I was about to like the post when Grayson walked over with a glass of red wine.
“What are you looking at?”
