Chapter 2
On that point, my future husband and I turned out to be pretty similar.
He never once showed up, never asked for anything, never even suggested we meet.
I figured he probably felt the same way I did—stuck in this situation together, fine by me.
We'd take what we needed and stay out of each other's way.
On the wedding day, I finally learned his name—Julian Winter.
While I was getting my makeup done, my best friend Yvonne Ives sat nearby reading the itinerary out loud.
"Julian Winter," she said, clicking her tongue. "Nice name. Have you even seen a photo of him?"
"Nope," I replied.
"You're something else," she said, slapping the schedule down on the table. "Marrying a guy you've never even seen a picture of."
I just smiled at my reflection in the mirror and didn't say anything.
The makeup artist was working on my eyeliner, and I kept my eyes closed, completely calm.
My heart was steadier than ever—calmer than any moment in my past.
Yvonne was pacing around, sometimes peering at me to check how I was doing.
"You're not nervous?" she asked.
I replied, "Nope."
She continued, "Not looking forward to it?"
"Nope," I answered.
She clicked her tongue and said, "Honestly, your wedding is really dull."
When the makeup and dress were done, I sat in the room and waited.
It was getting pretty rowdy outside—the wedding party was almost here.
Yvonne was peeking through the crack in the door, giving me a play-by-play.
"Whoa, they're here! There's a whole crowd. And hey, your groom's actually pretty tall.
"Nice build, too. He really pulls off that suit."
I took a sip of water from my glass.
"Oh, he's turning around now," Yvonne added. "Holy shit!"
She whipped around to look at me, her expression was priceless.
"Eleanor, I was worried about you before. Clearly I didn't need to be," she whispered, leaning in, her voice buzzing with excitement. "He's just your type, honestly, this stand-in is spot on."
I didn't get what she meant.
Right as I was about to ask, the door opened.
The wedding party stormed in, noisy as hell.
I looked up, completely stunned.
At the front of the crowd stood a man.
That face—for the rest of my life, I'd never mistake it.
He looked a bit leaner than before, and the suit showed off his broad shoulders and long legs.
Julian Cross—no, I should call him Julian Winter now.
I was so happy I could cry, but my nerves were all over the place.
The memory of that day at the mall entrance—the three of them as a family—was still vivid in my mind.
But now, he stood before me in a groom's suit with a boutonniere.
What was going on?
Did he get divorced?
My mind was a total jumble, but I didn't let anything show on my face.
I looked at him.
He looked back at me.
But his eyes were nothing like before.
Back then, when he looked at me, his eyes curved into crescents—like they held actual stars. His smile lit up the whole world.
Now, he looked at me, calm as if I was just some stranger.
No, it was even colder than looking at a stranger.
Even with a stranger, he'd get a bit of polite warmth.
When he looked at me, he was stone-faced, not saying a single word.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen were chanting for him to play the games.
He played along, but never even cracked a smile the whole time.
I couldn't stop staring at him.
He never looked my way, not even once.
Yvonne leaned in and whispered, "Your husband is seriously icy. He hasn't cracked a smile all day."
I just stayed quiet.
The wedding wrapped up amid all the rowdy commotion.
After we left the hotel and got in the car, he released my hand.
We sat in the back seat, each looking away, lost in our own silence.
The city lights flashed by outside the window.
I clutched the hem of my wedding dress, one thought looping in my mind. 'Is he planning to take revenge on me?'
*****
After my shower, I crawled into bed early that night.
My head was all over the place.
Why did he change his name?
When did he become the heir to the Winter Group?
Who were the woman and kid I saw at the mall entrance that day?
All these questions were knotted up in my head, and I couldn't untangle a single one.
Forget it, we were just in it for what we both needed.
This was always a marriage of convenience—both families got what they needed.
Whether he had kids or was divorced, it didn't make any difference to me.
I rolled over, took a deep breath, and buried my face in the pillow.
About half an hour later, the door opened.
He walked in, smelling strongly of alcohol, his steps a little shaky.
I squinted, peeking out from the cocoon of my blanket.
He loosened his tie, unbuttoned a few buttons, and leaned against the cabinet to steady himself.
Then he looked over at the bed.
I quickly closed my eyes.
His footsteps came closer, and he paused by the bed, silent.
Then I heard water running in the bathroom.
I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling, my heart racing.