4. The Birth of Monica Jones

Chapter FOUR — The Birth of Monica Jones

I stood in front of the mirror, the image of a bride adorned in white gazing back at me. The ivory silk cascaded around my form, alongside the lace detailing that accentuated the curves of my body.

I couldn't deny the sheer beauty of the wedding dress, which hugged me snugly. It was a stark contrast to the dress I had worn on my ill-fated wedding day with that bastard Cole—a day that now felt like a distant, painful memory.

Nervous energy coiled in me, with unease knotting my stomach as doubt crept into my mind. Was I really doing the right thing? Marrying a man I barely knew, all in the name of revenge? Could I really trust Gavin's words, a man whose real intentions were still a mystery to me?

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I examined my reflection, the uncertainty in my eyes staring back at me. The dress may have been exquisite, but the seriousness of my decision suddenly felt like a heavy burden on my shoulders. The thought of becoming a contract wife to a stranger, even for revenge, sent a shiver down my spine. But the burning desire to make Cole and Whitney pay—to show them that they couldn't betray me and get away with it—overpowered my hesitation.

I chuckled wryly to myself, the irony not lost on me. How did I become lucky enough to snag a billionaire like Gavin and unintentionally convince him to play a part in my vendetta by proposing the idea of a contractual marriage?

Pity, perhaps, like he mentioned, mingled with whatever else he had in mind, must have been what made him offer such an opportunity. Whatever the case, here I stood in a wedding dress for a second time, just because I wanted to make some bastards pay.

My thoughts spiraled, a feeling of uncertainty and determination battling in me. With a deep breath, I tried to anchor myself in the reality of my situation. This was no fairy tale wedding; this was a calculated move, a gamble I had chosen to take in my quest for payback.

I reminded myself of the cold truth that I couldn't let nerves unravel me now. This marriage was a means to an end, a step towards reclaiming my pride and avenging the betrayal that had shattered my world.

Gavin may have been a stranger, but his status as a billionaire granted me a power I had longed for—a power that would allow me to strike back at those who had wronged me.

"Monique Jones," I whispered to my reflection, the name foreign on my tongue. "Wife to billionaire heir, Gavin Jones."

The weight of my new last name settled on my shoulders, and with a steely resolve, I straightened my posture, allowing my nervousness to slowly disappear. I couldn't afford to falter now, not when my life was about to take a turn for the better.

The moment had arrived. The soft strains of the wedding music filled the air, a cue signaling my entrance into the next chapter of my life. With a final steady breath, I stepped out of the dressing room, the click of my heels echoing in the quiet hallway.

I moved confidently as I made my way down the aisle. The familiar tune guided my steps, and as I walked, my gaze fixed ahead, seeking out the one person who had offered to save me.

Gavin stood at the altar, his gaze fixed on me with a small, reassuring smile gracing his lips. The warmth in his eyes mirrored the sense of hope I suddenly felt in my chest while looking, like a silent affirmation that I wasn't alone anymore. I returned his smile, a fleeting moment between us amid the many unfamiliar faces that sat in the hall as our guests.

I focused on him and tried to block out the curious glances of the guests, strangers whose eyes I avoided meeting. This wasn't a celebration of love; it was a charade, and I had to put up a good performance if I didn't want to be judged on my first day as Gavin's wife.

As I finally reached the altar, Gavin's smile widened, and the ceremony commenced. The priest's voice broke through my thoughts as he said a few things before urging us to exchange our vows.

I turned towards Gavin, his gaze unwavering as he took my hands in his. The peak of this moment settled on me, and I steadied my breathing so that I wouldn't end up stuttering when it was my turn.

"Monique Anderson," Gavin began his voice with a steady reassurance that grounded me in this surreal reality. "I stand before you, committed to this union out of nothing but love and mutual understanding. I promise to honor our love, to support you in everything that you do, and to stand by your side as we go through life together for the rest of our lives."

My turn came, and I met his gaze, my voice steady as I recited the words that never failed to give me goosebumps. "Gavin Jones, I too enter into this marriage determined to love and support you. I promise to play my part as your wife, to honor our love for each other, and to support you through thick and thin."

With the vows spoken, our eyes lingered on each other, a silent pact forged in the exchange of false promises.

The priest's gentle voice pierced through the hushed murmurs; his words were a prelude to the moment I already knew was coming. "You may now kiss the bride," he intoned, his eyes flickering between Gavin and me as we stood before the altar.

Without hesitation, Gavin's hand reached for mine, his touch warm against my skin as he drew me closer. The soft press of his lips against mine was a tender act—a gesture that subtly sent tingles down my spine, and I met his kiss with a smile.

As we pulled away, the guests erupted into applause, a sound of approval that surrounded us.

The wedding reception had started with laughter and music—the sound of love songs that were being played as Gavin and I found ourselves on the dance floor.

This was the start of my new life as Monica jones, wife to a powerful billionaire and the beginning of my revenge against my ex husband and ex best friend.