Chapter 3

Carl's POV

Today was supposed to be the day I surrendered to my dad's persistent demands to get married, but instead of feeling excited or nervous, I just felt irritated. 

I'm Carl Oswald. At 30, I’m the acting CEO of LiveStrong, a company I inherited from my father. On paper, I have everything—a powerful position, endless wealth, and the legacy of a thriving empire. 

But what most people don’t know is that I live with prosopagnosia, face blindness. I can’t recognize faces or read facial expressions, not even my own family’s.

All I see are features that blur together, like pieces of a puzzle I can never solve. Voices, scents, and the way people move those are the only ways I navigate this colorless, faceless world.

I looked at the neatly arranged suit beside me, feeling a mixture of resignation and frustration. I had more important things to do, yet here I was, forced into a wedding I hadn’t even agreed to willingly.

 My father, a man of practicality and power, had orchestrated this whole thing. To him, a marriage was a strategic alliance, nothing more. And to me? It felt like an unnecessary complication.

I stood up, pulling the suit jacket over my shoulders, and stared blankly at my reflection. I couldn’t even see my own face clearly. Just a blur of features, indistinguishable from anyone else’s. My hands tightened around the collar of my shirt, grounding me in the reality of the day.

A sharp wave of panic set in. My new secretary, Miloslava, was supposed to be here by now. I’d given her clear instructions to arrive at the mansion before the ceremony. I needed her to help me with last-minute preparations, mainly paperwork, but also to help me navigate through the day. 

She was the only person who could keep me from embarrassing myself in front of people whose faces I wouldn’t recognize.

"Get here early," I'd barked into the phone yesterday, "I might need some last-minute paperwork sorted."  But of course, she was unreachable.  

 I kept dialing her number, only to be sent straight to voicemail growing increasingly frustrated. She’d only started yesterday, and she was already proving unreliable.

 

With my condition, I couldn’t afford that. I needed someone who understood the importance of being on time and dependable.

"She'll get it real hot from me when she shows up late," I muttered, shoving the thought aside for the moment.

The drive to the office was quick, but I couldn’t focus. The cityscape blurred past, but all I could think about was Miloslava’s absence. My world was black and white, literally and figuratively. Colors didn’t exist for me, and faces were just shadows. That’s how it had always been. Except… for her. Miloslava was different. She wasn’t just a voice or a blur. When she spoke, there was something vibrant—something I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t see her face, but she brought a spark of color into my dull existence.

The office was eerily quiet when I arrived. I stopped at Miloslava’s desk and, unsurprisingly, found her absent. Irritated, I stormed into my office, grabbed the necessary paperwork, and left.

On the way back, my thoughts returned to my wedding.

Why did I need a wife anyway? I'd managed perfectly well on my own all these years.

Work was my life, my passion.  The constant churn of projects, the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of a deal well struck and most importantly, getting investors to invest, these were the things that fueled me.  

A wife, in my mind, was just another variable, another complication to my existence.

I didn’t believe in love, not the way others did. A marriage wasn’t about affection or partnership for me. It was just business, just like everything else in my life.

Yet, ironically, here I was, about to exchange vows with a woman I hadn't even met before for reasons best known to my dad.

I just needed a competent secretary, which I finally seemed to have found after sacking nearly 30 people every month. Well, don’t think I’m bad—they were just incompetent. Worst of all, most of them couldn’t even make a decent coffee.

 

The car finally screeched to a halt at the mansion. 

My ever-reliable chauffeur, John, jumped out to open the door. 

I stepped out to find my father rushing toward me. "Son, where have you been? It’s almost time for your wedding," he said, his face full of happiness as his four eyes met mine.

"I had to quickly pick up something, Dad, but I’m back now," I replied.

"Shall we?" he said, leading the way.

I got into another car, well-decorated and we headed to the church, where a few guests were seated. I’d told Dad I didn’t want a large crowd, so he invited a few friends and family, which I still found a bit large.

I walked to the altar and stood in front of the priest, waiting for my bride, with Hans behind me.

My gaze darted around the elegantly decorated church, still no sign of Miloslava. “That miss is in for so much trouble,” I muttered to myself.

A few minutes later, the creaking sound of the door echoed, and as the guests and choir arose, I knew my unknown bride was here. 

The choir began a soft melody, "Here comes the bride, here comes the bride.”

Everything remained numb to me. I just wanted to get done with this whole process and continue working on my project at the office.

Then, she appeared veiled in white, she glided down the aisle, her face obscured by the delicate fabric. As she approached the altar, the priest prompted me to lift the veil.

 I could see her chestnut hair parked in a bun, her flawless skin color. Wait, does it mean I can see things with color now? My heart lurched in my throat. 

Standing before me, eyes wide with a mixture of nervousness and defiance, with a familiar smell I lifted her veil as instructed by the priest was Miloslava.  

Wait what!!! My new secretary? My bride? This has to be a joke.