All Chapters of To Hate, To Love, And To Wed: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I step out of the car with a sigh, slow steps leading me into my father’s manor. Apart from the staff that opened the door for me, I haven’t seen anyone else as I walk inside. It’s quiet in here—it’s usually quiet, but the silence has never bothered me as it is now.I stop at the stairs, deciding against going up to my room. I turn into the hallway on the west wing, having one place in mind—my mother’s office. When I reach the door, I flatten my palm over the wood, pressing my forehead into it and shutting my eyes. My chin trembles, eyes watering. I sniffle with a shaky exhale, wrapping my hand around the knob and gently pushing it open.The wood creaks as the door opens. It’s all white in here—white walls that dad renews every year because he wants his wife’s space spotless, white sheets covering everything. I haven’t been in here since my mother passed. I haven’t had the courage to enter her office.But today, I feel like I need her. I stare at her desk and scoff. She’d always s

One… two… three… Seconds tick by, and yet, dad is yet to say anything. All he’s managed to do is steady his breathing, lick his lips, and blink. I don’t know why he’d react so oddly to this. Kate has been more like a daughter of this family. He always has been responsible for her even though they rarely see each other. This shouldn’t be difficult. “You have to say something, dad,” I say, calling back his mind to present. “Or… are you having a heart attack?”A small smile dents the corners of his mouth, his head shaking. “Why?”I inhale a deep breath. “Well… for one, she’s already like a sister. And I want her to take up our last name, so life will be a little easier for her.”“Life is already very easy for her,” he tells me matter-of-factly.“Because I’m here.” I counter. “You don’t even know the girl exists. You don’t ask about her except it’s necessary, you don’t—”“Why would I ask about her when it’s unnecessary? I provide for her, that’s all that matters.”I shake my head. “So

It’s been years since I’ve been in here. I cannot remember the last time I was in Rebecca’s office, watching her behind her desk while she barked orders at her workers—and sometimes screamed at me when I got things wrong. But today, I’m here again, with her daughter who is now my wife.It brings back memories—the memories I love to hold onto, and the ones I’ve been trying so hard to forget. It was in this office that I became Rebecca’s right hand man. It was in this office that she told me I could be independent, work for myself. It was in this office that the sniper who took her life stood and fired a shot that sent a bullet straight into her head. And I was so fucking late. So being here… I don’t know how it makes me feel. But Adaline wants to be here and I don’t know how to say no to her. “Are you sure it’s okay that we’re in here?” I ask her, hoping to god she changes her mind and takes us somewhere else instead. I can see that Adaline doesn’t want to be in here as well. B

It’s been long minutes since I returned to Jameson’s office and quite frankly, steering my mind away from Adaline’s bare ass splayed on that island has been a hassle.And all I’ve done since coming in here is chug one glass after another of scotch.Jameson, although matching my reckless drinking pace, has been staring at me with narrowed eyes, seemingly wondering how my mood went sour after I went to meet Adaline.I groan and slam the glass down on the table for the… I don’t know, I’ve lost count.“You’re in a mood,” Jameson points out, taking a slow sip of the remaining drink in his glass.His eyes are already hooded, but the man is just as stubborn as his daughter. “You think?” I ask.He lifts his shoulder in shrug. “Just saying, my man. What happened?”“What happened is that your daughter is an infuriating woman. I’m this close to admitting she’s too much for me to handle.” I bite out, a growl in my voice.Actually, what I mean to say is that his daughter is beautiful, so beautifu

It’s almost noon, and I can’t say my day has gotten better.From the moment I woke up—after just a few hours of sleep that can be considered “adequate,” yet somehow still exhausted—with a splitting headache, to now, sitting in my mother’s art room, pretending to work on a piece… nothing has changed, everything has just been going downhill.I haven’t made a single decent brushstroke. My eyes aren’t even on the canvas—they’re fixed outside the window, watching the rain pelt the ground aggressively. Of all the days, it chose to rain today.The rain had better wash away this worry of mine before I completely crash out.My fingers shake around the brush, making it slip from my hand for the millionth time today, falling straight onto my shorts and staining them red. A low groan rumbles in my throat and I collapse back into the seat, slouching and pushing my lips out into a pout. My jaw clenches hard. My teeth feel like they’re grinding to dust.This isn’t how I envisioned my day.But it’s