Chapter 3: The Deal is Done

Alexander Kingsley's POV:

I was reviewing the quarterly projections for our latest acquisition in the Kingsley Group presidential office when my father, Richard Kingsley, entered and sat down directly on the leather sofa across from my desk. I glanced up briefly at him before returning my attention to signing the documents in front of me.

My father, unbothered by my dismissal, spoke directly. "August 15th is your wedding day."

My pen paused on the paper as I looked up at him, sitting calmly on the sofa.

He picked up an elegant coffee cup from the side table, blew gently on the surface, and cautiously took a sip. "I understand your persistence all these years, but your mother wouldn't want to see you still unmarried from her place in heaven."

I remained silent, quietly waiting for him to speak again.

"I've arranged everything," he continued. "The bride is from the Cole family. Charlotte, a rather special young girl. Twenty years old, still in college."

"Twenty?" I couldn't help but display a mocking smile. "Why not give her to Jason instead?"

"Insolent!" my father snapped. "Alexander! This is your future wife—she's not something to be handed off to your nephew on a whim!"

I leaned back in my chair, my face showing complete indifference. "Then whoever arranged it should be the one getting married."

"Alexander Kingsley!" He stood up, his voice filled with anger. "You have no choice in this matter. I'm warning you, Alexander—even if you firmly object, this marriage must proceed." He slammed his cup down on the table with force, creating a tremendous noise.

"Impossible," I replied, my voice ice-cold.

My father was silent for a moment, then played his trump card: "Marry her, and I'll tell you everything about 'her'."

My composure cracked. I knew exactly who "she" was—the girl who had suddenly disappeared from my world, someone important to me whom I had been searching for without success.

"You've been investigating too?" I narrowed my eyes.

He didn't answer, ignoring my question as he straightened his impeccable suit.

"August 15th is your wedding day. Be prepared."

On the wedding day, I stood in the preparation room at the Nob Hill Fairmont Hotel, looking out at the bustling atmosphere that seemed completely disconnected from me.

My father appeared in the doorway, looking at me with anger because I hadn't made any effort to dress up.

"Is this how you come to a wedding? You dress more formally for regular meetings."

I maintained an indifferent expression. "Isn't my presence enough?"

He held a folder and an encrypted USB drive, extending them toward me. "This contains all the information you want."

I instinctively reached for them, but he immediately pulled back. "Come find me after the wedding ceremony."

This manipulative bastard. He had me by the throat, and he knew it. My Adam's apple bobbed as I swallowed my reluctance. Without a word, I took the custom-tailored suit handed to me by the butler and walked out of the room like a puppet to complete the wedding procedures.

Time passed in a blur until suddenly the music started. The room fell dark except for two spotlights—one on me and one at the far end of the aisle.

As the doors slowly opened, a woman in a wedding dress, almost painfully beautiful, entered my field of vision. She was holding onto the arm of a man beside her, walking toward me under the professional spotlights. I knew this was my so-called wife.

This was the first time I had seen her in person. Although we both lived in the Bay Area, our lives had never intersected.

She was smaller than I had expected, her face full of collagen, radiating youth, making her look even younger than twenty. As she approached, her expression became clearer. I noticed her eyes were red as if she had been crying.

When we stood face to face, William Cole reluctantly placed his daughter's hand in mine. The moment our fingers touched, the warmth of my palm contrasted sharply with the coldness of her fingers. She instinctively tried to pull away from my touch. I reacted quickly, gripping her hand firmly.

When our eyes met, I found myself looking into a pair of eyes as frightened as a deer's. A strange feeling washed over me—my normally calm and detached demeanor seemed to ripple with an unexpected emotion.

I turned away, no longer looking at her, but inwardly mocking myself for officially becoming a Silicon Valley stereotype—an older tech executive marrying a college-aged wife.

When the pastor asked Charlotte if she would accept me as her husband, to love, cherish, and be faithful to me until death, the ballroom fell silent. She didn't respond.

I looked down at her; her breathing was rapid, seemingly completely immersed in her own thoughts, unaware of the abnormal silence now permeating the ballroom.

"Answer," I increased the pressure on her hand to recapture her attention.

She looked up at me, confused, still not understanding the current situation.

Realizing she might be experiencing ringing in her ears due to extreme nervousness, I gripped her hand tightly again, feigning an intimate gesture as I reached out to gently brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen near her ear.

In reality, I leaned close to her ear and warned in an icy voice: "Stop spacing out. If the Kingsley family loses face, I'll make sure the Cole family suffers just as much!"

Seeing her startled reaction, followed by a visible adjustment of her composure, I realized my threat had worked.

She came to her senses, understanding the current situation. Her lips curved into a slight smile, and her gaze toward me gained a measure of calm. She played along, intimately rising on her tiptoes to lean closer to me, approaching my ear.

"I will. Thank you for the reminder."

Her warm breath brushed against my ear, and I could detect her natural fragrance. My throat tightened, my eyes darkened, and my senses momentarily heightened—it had been a long time since anyone had dared to come this close to me.