Chapter 1: The wedding

Mabel's POV

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that everything would soon come to an end. I didn't want this wedding; neither of us did. The marriage certificate had already been signed, so there was no need for any of this. I'm only doing this for my father. It's his most anticipated moment, and I won't rob him of that.

The doors opened, and I looked at my father, who was all smiles.

“Are you ready?” he asked me. But what if I wasn't? Would that change anything?

“Yes, Dad.” I forced a smile. He reached for my hand, taking it on his left side while his right hand rolled the wheel of his chair, and we gently strolled down the aisle.

It felt like the longest walk of my life. I could see the priest and the man standing before him—the one I was supposed to marry. I had never met him before.

He had come back to the country a few months ago, and now we were supposed to get married. I knew nothing about this man.

The empty church pews seemed to mock me. This was not how I had imagined getting married. It was crazy how quickly my life had changed before my eyes, and I felt powerless to stop it.

My eyes scanned the room, and I noticed only four people present, excluding myself and my dad.

We stood before the priest. My dad reached for the hand of the man and placed mine in his. Then he smiled and wheeled his chair to join the other two people sitting in the first row. They must be the groom's parents.

I turned to face the man before me, ready to get this over with.

The priest handed me a ring and gestured for the man to place his left palm on mine.

“Do you, Miss Mabel Hawkins, accept Mr. Landon Ferguson to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asked. I took a deep breath.

“I do,” I responded, my voice almost inaudible. I instinctively slipped the ring onto his finger without being prompted.

The priest took another ring and handed it to the man. I gently removed the wedding glove from my left hand, revealing my tender fingers. He reached for them, and I didn't resist.

“Do you, Mr. Landon Ferguson, accept Miss Mabel Hawkins to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“On behalf of Mr. Ferguson, I do.” My heart sank, and I instinctively withdrew my hand, furrowing my brow in confusion.

I turned to look at my dad, wanting to ensure he understood what was happening. He looked just as confused as I was.

“On behalf of Mr. Ferguson?” I echoed. Was this a joke?

“Mr. Ferguson is very busy at the moment; I'm here as a substitute,” said the man confidently. This was happening?

The groom was absent at his own wedding? How much more disrespectful could this get? How could he be so cruel? How could he do this to me? I had never felt so embarrassed in my life.

“Are you kidding me? Who the hell does he think he is?” I thundered, my angry voice echoing through the almost empty hall. Heat rose to my face. I refused to let anyone turn me into an object of mockery.

I balled my hand into a fist, resisting the urge to strike his pretty face.

Suddenly, I felt a hand hold my wrist. I realized my father had moved from his initial position.

“Honey, please calm down,” he pleaded. I looked down at him, taking in his pitiful state. His eyes were filled with concern.

The last thing I wanted was to be the reason for my father's unhappiness. He knew better than anyone how quickly my temper could flare.

“You need to understand that Mr. Ferguson is a very busy person, and this wedding is just a formality; the certificate has already been issued. Remember, you're doing this for me.” He squeezed my fist gently until it unclenched. Of course, it was just a formality. How could I forget?

I looked away, blinking back tears that threatened to cloud my vision. They wouldn't see me break down. Mr. Ferguson, I would never forgive him for this.

“This is so wrong, Dad. This is wrong,” I lamented painfully.

“I know,” he said, pulling on my hand. “Look at me.” I turned to him.

“It's almost over; you're doing great.” He smiled warmly. I couldn't help but wonder why he wanted this marriage so badly. I sure as hell didn't want it.

“Dad,” I closed my eyes, “this is the last time you'll make me do something I don't want to do.” I made sure to say it loud enough for him to hear.

His smile grew wider. He stayed behind me, fearing I might do something impulsive if he left.

I snatched the ring from the so-called substitute and slid it onto my finger. I regarded him with contempt, but he remained unfazed.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bri—” I turned sharply and glared at the priest. I heard someone chuckle at my reaction, but I didn't bother to look to see who it was.

The priest, upon realizing his mistake, quickly cleared his throat. “Your union is blessed.”

“Amen,” my dad affirmed. I almost scoffed but rolled my eyes instead.

“Congratulations, my lady,” said the supposed substitute. “Your ride is waiting for you outside,” he added as he made his way out of the hall.

“Isn't she such a beauty?” said the lady I assumed was the groom's mother.

She reached for my cheeks and tugged them gently.

“You were just a baby the last time we met. You've grown up so well,” she said, pulling me into a tight hug. What was wrong with her?

The old man cleared his throat, and she quickly pulled away from the hug. This man looked way too old; he couldn't possibly be her husband.

“Come visit me from time to time, okay? I would love to catch up with my daughter-in-law,” she grinned. She was really his mother? Didn't she teach him any manners?

“Welcome to the family. I hope you can find a way to make something of this. I believe you're smart enough to,” said the man who was around the same age as my father.

“Quit staring and say hi to your grandfather-in-law, Old Mr. Ferguson,” my dad’s voice came from behind me, where he had been watching all of this unfold. So, he's the grandfather? Where's the father? Dead?

Perfect combination; I don't have a mom, and he doesn't have a dad.

“No need for that; she'll come around,” Old Mr. Ferguson said before I could respond.

“I'll take my leave now.” He turned, using his walking stick for support. The lady followed behind him, not without slipping a piece of paper into my palm.

I went behind my dad and helped him push his wheelchair out of the church hall.

“Remain blessed,” I heard the priest call out. I ignored him.

Outside the church, my dad placed his hand on mine and carefully released my grip from the chair. He then smiled sadly. “It's okay; they're waiting for you.”

“They? Who?”

Sensing my confusion, he nudged me, and I looked to see the substitute guy waiting by a black BMW.

“I'm not leaving you here,” I protested.

“Who said I'll be here?” He chuckled. “There’s my ride.” He pointed to the SUV behind the BMW, the same one that came to move my things yesterday. I knelt before him.

“Will you be okay, though?” I didn't want to break down, but the tears came anyway.

“Of course; your aunt is there to care for me, remember?” I nodded tearfully. He wiped my tears with his hand and pulled me into a tight hug. I didn't want to let go, and the tears flowed again.

“I love you so much, Dad.”

“I love you too.”

“We have to go,” the substitute guy called out.

I ignored him and pushed my dad's wheelchair to the SUV. I intended to help him in, but the driver came and did it instead. I thanked him and put the wheelchair in the trunk.

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” he said jokingly. I waved until they were out of sight. The feeling of loneliness engulfed me the instant he left.

The substitute guy was already holding the door to the backseat open for me. I entered, rested my back against the seat, and closed my eyes.

I felt the car start to move and tried to relax my nerves.

I didn't realize how much time had passed.

“Are you with me?”

“Huh?” My eyes flew open.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked again.

I turned my head to the side. “I'm not sure.”

“I just wanted to remind you that the marriage must remain a secret. Word shouldn’t get out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I dismissed lazily, closing my eyes again. I was uninterested. He probably didn’t show up because of the nature of my job.

The car came to a stop, jolting me back to reality. I practiced my breathing technique before stepping out. He closed the door behind me and led the way.

He stopped right in front of the building and directed me on how to locate my room. I didn’t understand why he couldn't just take me there. What if I got lost?

I entered the living room, and my eyes instantly found the staircase. I headed toward it without hesitation.

“You must be the bride,” a cold, masculine voice called out from the living room. I froze in my tracks.