Chapter 2
I sobbed in the rain for ages, like a gutless stray stripped of its spine. But eventually, I resolved: this time, I'd rise as a fierce, roaring lion.
Elwood, I was done with you.
I was so lost in my grief that I didn't even notice the man appearing out of nowhere beside me.
"No umbrella in the rain? Some kind of performance art?"
His deep voice startled me, and in the same instant, a black umbrella shielded me from above.
The guy was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, giving off serious "don't approach" vibes. I instinctively pulled back, grateful that the downpour had rinsed away any sign of my tears.
Bruce Matthews.
Jerrell Matthews's youngest son—about the same age as Elwood, but a full generation senior.
"Bru... Bruce... what are you doing here?" I was a little intimidated by him.
It was mostly that face of his; when he got serious, he looked like he'd done time or something. What a shame, wasting such striking good looks.
He didn't respond right away, just eyed my soaked figure up and down, his tone as icy as the rain. "Where's that punk Elwood? How could he leave you out here getting drenched by yourself?"
"It's not his fault," I said, biting my lip.
"Already sticking up for him, and you're not even hitched yet?" Bruce's voice gave nothing away—no hint of approval or annoyance. "Well, here's to growing old together and wedded bliss."
I froze, managing a forced, awkward smile that was mostly for my own benefit.
"We won't get that far."
My words came out faint, dissolving into the wind in an instant.
The rumble of thunder and pounding rain swallowed that quiet whisper, and I completely missed the faint smile playing on his lips, veiled by the sheets of rain.
Bruce stood ramrod straight, his expression hovering between a smirk and something unreadable, as he murmured under his breath, "Congratulations."
As I ignored the icy chill seeping through my soaked clothes, the first thing I did when I got home was call to ask about changing my name.
The person on the other end listed out the documents I'd need and told me to stop by tomorrow.
Next: book a flight. My dream destination for ages—Ontta.
I set it for the day after the wedding.
I wouldn't just disappear without a word.
But the "me" showing up at the wedding? That'd be my "corpse."
I was in the middle of packing when I heard rapid footsteps approaching from down the hall. Looking up, I spotted Elwood with his arm around a young, pretty woman, heading upstairs.
Our gazes met.
"What are you up to?" He froze, his right hand midway through caressing her, his brow furrowing.
"None of your concern," I said evenly.
That pissed him off—Elwood's expression turned stormy in a flash.
"Justine, watch your tone! You keep harping on about being my fiancée, but when I got into that car accident, it was Patrica who looked after me. Marrying you at all is me doing you a huge favor!"
Nice performance, I sneered inwardly.
Even the doctor was bogus—the entire car accident story was made up from whole cloth.
I didn't engage, just turned my attention to the young woman next to him.
Skirt with black stockings, slim and curvy, eyes gleaming with satisfaction—that outfit alone had Elwood wrapped around her little finger.
He was bold enough to bring her home like this because he figured I'd forgive all his antics from this so-called "brain damage" period.
Probably his top bed warmer.
Nausea washed over me.
"Elwood, don't—it's my bad," the woman said, all sweet and sensible as she stepped closer. "Hi, I'm Patrica Carter. I hope I'm not causing you any trouble."
The bitchy vibes were suffocating.
I had zero interest in whatever drama they were staging today, so I slammed the door with a resounding bang.
Elwood, your part in my script was done.
As he watched my odd reaction, Elwood's eyelid twitched.
He'd brought another woman home—shouldn't I be pitching a jealous fit and making a scene?
How could I stay so composed?
Composed enough to make him uneasy.
Even though he picked up on the weird vibe, he didn't bother probing further. He had more urgent priorities right now.
"You bad boy, I can't hold out much longer," Patrica said, raising her voice on purpose so I'd overhear.
Elwood pinched her playfully. "From here on out, leave Justine alone. You hear me?"
"If you've got Justine in your heart, why stick up for me? Can't stand the thought of losing me?"
"You know damn well—why even ask?"
They stumbled into the master bedroom, half-undressed, the room buzzing with raw tension.
Just as things were heating up, Patrica's gaze landed on a framed photo on the nightstand.
The girl in it was grinning with pure, radiant joy—but to her, it was an eyesore.
Patrica pouted, annoyed. "Aren't I enough for you? Why keep her picture around? Total buzzkill."
That did it—the riled-up Elwood grabbed the photo and chucked it out the window.
It landed in the villa's trash bin below.
"Screw that thing—a moment like this is priceless. Let's not waste it."
With that, he dove right in.