Chapter 1
Claire Bennett sat in the dressing room, wedding dress wrapped around her, waiting for three hours.
In the mirror, her makeup was perfect, the veil draped softly over her shoulders. She looked like a white rose waiting to be picked. But the one she was waiting for still hadn't come.
"Ms. Bennett, should I go remind him again?" her assistant asked, her voice careful.
"No need," Claire replied, her tone steady. "The wedding's at three. It's only two."
She looked down at her phone screen, only to find no new messages. Her last chat with James Carter was three days ago. He'd sent a photo of the wedding venue, replying: [Looks good.]
It felt like signing a contract, not marrying his bride.
James was the second son of the Carter family, the hottest young entrepreneur in Riverside, and her husband in name only.
They'd met through a matchmaker, had three meetings, one dinner, one coffee, and then he'd asked, "Do you want to get married?"
She'd asked, "Why me?"
He'd said, "You're suitable."
Claire had thought, 'Suitable? What a word. We're from similar backgrounds, about the same age.
'I need the Carter family's resources to save my family's failing business, and he needs a suitable wife to silence his parents about marriage. We both get what we want, and everyone's happy.'
So, Claire had agreed.
She knew he had someone else in his heart. All across Riverside's elite circles, James and Sophie Lane were known as childhood sweethearts, perfectly matched.
Everyone thought they'd end up together. But Sophie went abroad for school three years ago, and they drifted apart. James had been single ever since until he met Claire, the suitable bride.
Claire didn't mind, or maybe she didn't dare to mind.
Her father, Andrew Bennett, was seriously ill, the company was on the verge of collapse, and her brother, Lucas Bennett, was still in college.
She needed this marriage like a drowning person needed a lifeline. As for whose name was written on that lifeline, she had no right to ask.
At exactly three o'clock, the wedding began.
Claire walked down the long aisle, her arm linked with Andrew's. His hand trembled slightly. She couldn't tell if it was from illness or from the pain in his heart.
James stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in a black suit, standing tall and steady. There was no joy on his face, no reluctance either, but a faint, distant courtesy.
It felt like he was simply attending the wedding of an ordinary friend.
The officiant recited the vows. James gave his consent, and Claire followed suit. As the ring slipped onto her finger, she lifted her gaze and met his eyes.
His eyes were striking, deep, distant, and unfathomable. Yet in them, she saw not herself, but the woman he truly loved.
After the rings were exchanged, the host invited the groom to give a speech. James took the mic, stood silent for a moment, then said, "Thank you so much for being here today at Claire's and my—"
His phone suddenly rang, cutting him off.
The whole room went quiet. James glanced at his phone, and his face changed in an instant.
That distant politeness was gone, replaced by something Claire had never seen before. She couldn't quite put her finger on whether it was surprise or panic.
He picked up the call and said, "Yeah?"
Then he hung up, murmured something to the host, and left the stage without so much as a glance at Claire. He cut through the crowd and disappeared straight out the door.
The whole room was in an uproar.
Claire stood frozen, still holding onto her bouquet of white roses. She caught snippets of conversation behind her.
"I heard Sophie's back."
"She called him right after getting off the plane? What a coincidence."
"Poor Claire, getting left at the altar on her wedding day."
Andrew's face flushed with anger, and he looked like he was about to go after James, but Claire quickly held him back.
"Dad," she said softly, "it's okay."
She straightened her back, put on a composed smile, and addressed the officiant, "Mr. Carter has an urgent matter to attend to. Please continue with the ceremony."
That night, she waited in their wedding room until two in the morning, but James didn't come home.
The next morning, when she woke up, she saw a bank card and a car key on the coffee table.
Beside them was a note in his handwriting. [Sorry about yesterday. If you need anything, buy it. From James.]
Claire kept staring at the note, lost in thought.
Then she tucked the card and car key away in a drawer, went downstairs, and cooked herself a plate of pasta.
From this day forward, she was Mrs. Carter. Where James was, or who he held in his heart, that was a question she'd never dare to ask.
Claire kept telling herself, "It doesn't hurt."
She insisted, "Really, it doesn't."
During the first month of their marriage, Claire only saw James three times.
The first time, he came home to pick up some clothes for the new season, but barely ten minutes in, he got a call and rushed out.
The second time was at a Carter family dinner. He sat beside her, hardly said a word, and only helped her avoid a couple of drinks when the elders insisted.
The third time, they bumped into each other in the elevator. He nodded, and they rode down in silence all the way to the parking garage.
They were like strangers under the same roof. She lived on the second floor, he on the third, separated not by a floor, but by an invisible wall that kept them a world apart.
Claire never asked where he went, who he met, or when he'd come home.
By day, she buried herself in work. By night, she'd return, read a book, or catch up on her favorite series, making her days feel like a solo life.
Sometimes, in the quiet hours, she'd hear footsteps above, freeze for a second, and then quietly turn the page.