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Chapter 7
It felt like I was truly seeing Simon for the first time.
All the history, all the confusion–it suddenly came into focus, and I realized. just how much I’d been ignoring.
“My wedding should be about what I want,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “Simon, let me make this clear once and for all. I‘ m marrying Daniel. Don‘ t lose your mind here.”
“You dare marry him?” Simon’s voice was filled with disbelief and rage.
I could feel his anger boiling over, and before I could even react, he suddenly grabbed my arm, yanking me toward him.
But before anything else could happen, I was pulled into a warm embrace. Daniel gently wrapped my coat around me, his movements deliberate and protective, and without hesitation, he swung a fist straight
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Chapter 7
at Simon’s face.
“Simon,” Daniel’s voice was calm but ice- cold, with an unmistakable air of authority, “who in God’s name gave you the audacity to lay a hand on my fiancée?”
Simon staggered back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Instead of looking defeated, his face twisted into something almost smug. He grinned through clenched teeth, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.
“Uncle,” Simon sneered, wiping the blood from his lips, “you should know–everyone knows Bianca‘ s been chasing me around since we were children.” He chuckled.
bitterly. “A used–up thing like her, and you still want her?”
Daniel’s gaze hardened, his jaw tight with fury, but he remained composed, almost unnervingly so. With the grace and precision of someone used to controlling every situation, he swung again, this time with even more force. “If you cannot
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control your tongue, Simon, I’ll be more than happy to teach you some manners- manners my brother should have instilled in you long ago.”
Simon barely flinched, his cocky grin only widening. “If you‘ re so comfortable in your little CEO chair, I’ll find someone else to take your place! Now leave!”
I winced at the sight of Daniel’s knuckles reddening from the force of the blow. The tension in the room felt suffocating.
Without thinking, I asked, my voice soft, “Does it hurt?”
For a brief moment, I saw hope flicker in Simon’s eyes, but as soon as he noticed that I was holding Daniel‘ s hand, the light in his eyes disappeared. His expression turned cold and bitter.
Simon shot me one last look–confused, angry, and full of resentment–before turning away.
Audrey, who had just come out, hurried
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Chapter 7
after him, calling his name as if nothing. had happened, asking him to take her home. But Simon, like he hadn’t even heard her, ignored her completely and drove off alone.
I was still anxiously inspecting Daniel‘ S hand when I hurriedly tried to explain, “I did use to chase Simon, but we were never really anything. We were never even a couple, and we definitely never… well, you know.”
Daniel smiled gently, the kind of smile that melted my heart. He ruffled my hair with a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. I won’t take anything that brat says seriously.”
“I trust you,” he added quietly, his voice so sincere it made my chest tighten.
I flushed, feeling the warmth rush to my
face.
But then, just as I was beginning to relax, Daniel suddenly winced and cradled his hand with a melodramatic flair, casting me
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Chapter
a look full of mock sorrow, as though he were a little boy seeking sympathy.
“My hand hurts now…” he said, his tone rich with playful exaggeration. He gave me an exaggerated, pitiful look that could hardly be associated with the poised, refined man I knew. “I do believe I’ll be incapable of driving, and heaven forbid I cook over the next few days. I may need someone to… look after me.”
It was impossible to reconcile this vulnerable, almost childlike side of Daniel with the composed CEO I was accustomed
- to.
To see him in such a state–stripped of his usual, impeccable control–softened something inside me. My heart melted just a little. Without even thinking, I reached. out and, with a gentle motion, patted his head, mirroring his caring gesture.
“Alright, alright,” I said, trying–and failing -to hold back my laughter at how charmingly ridiculous he looked. “I’ll take
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care of you for the next few days, I suppose.”
Daniel’s smile spread, his eyes twinkling with the unmistakable mischief that only added to his undeniable allure. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze playful and full of promise.
“Then I shall thank you in advance, Mrs. Hughes.”
Uttered with such effortless charm and understated confidence, his words left a warmth in the air, and I found myself entirely disarmed by both his playful demeanor and the way he seemed to have everything–absolutely everything–under
control.
Over the next few days, everything clicked between us.
Our time together was effortless. We understood each other in ways I hadn’t expected–supporting each other, making each other laugh, and sharing moments of
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silence that spoke louder than words. In just a short while, it felt like I’d known him for years.
It dawned on me how much time I had wasted loving the wrong person. How foolish it all seemed now. What a shame that was.
Just a few days later, a message popped up on my phone from a close friend, congratulating me:
[Bianca, after chasing Simon for all these years, you finally won his heart! I heard your wedding is right around the corner. I can’t wait to celebrate with you guys!]
My heart skipped a beat, and I immediately felt a tight knot form in my stomach. Without thinking, I opened Simon‘ s social media account.
Of course, everyone in the city assumed I was marrying him. We’d been linked together for years, and now that our
wedding was on the horizon, it was only
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natural that people would believe the
rumors.
The Hughes family would make the announcement soon, but for the public, Simon and I were the couple they’d been waiting for.
But then, a jolt of panic shot through me.
That message–something about it felt…
wrong.
I checked Simon‘ s profile, even though I had blocked him months ago, and the sight of it nearly knocked the air out of my lungs.
There, front and center was his profile picture. His background. Even his pinned. posts.
Every single one of them was a photo of
- me.
The thought hit me like a ton of bricks, and for the first time in a long while, I was utterly speechless.
