Chapter 3

As I listened to their gossip, my heart felt frozen.

These were the people I used to call my classmates and friends.

In my previous life, nothing changed. When Jessica humiliated me, not a single one of them spoke up for me. Instead, they just stood by and watched me suffer.

I gave Jessica a cold stare. "You'll see for yourself soon enough if it's fake," I said.

Right as I finished speaking, the door to the private room swung open from outside.

A man in a black tailored suit stood in the doorway.

He was tall and upright, his presence icy and aloof, and his striking features looked like God's finest masterpiece.

The chatter in the private room fell silent in an instant.

Everyone seemed to hit pause, staring in awe at the man in the doorway.

It really was Frederick.

He looked even more mature and dazzling than he did in high school, radiating an intimidating aura that warned everyone to keep their distance.

His gaze swept across the room before finally landing on me.

In that instant, all the coldness in him melted away, and his eyes softened with a tenderness I'd never seen before.

He made his way through the crowd, eyes locked on me, not stopping for anyone.

With every step, it felt like the whole room was holding its breath.

When he reached me, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The fine wool was still warm from his body.

"You're not dressed for the weather," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that carried in the silent room. "You'll catch a chill."

The familiarity in his tone, the intimate, casual concern, was unmistakably genuine.

Jessica's face turned ashen in an instant.

Frederick's gaze shifted from me, sweeping over Jessica and the circle of gossiping classmates.

His expression frosted over, the warmth vanishing into a glare of cool authority. "So," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "You're the ones giving my wife a hard time?"

Wife. He said the word as if it were the most natural fact in the world. It detonated in the room like a grenade.

"W-wife?!"

"No way! Charley and Frederick? Married?!"

Jessica stumbled back a step, her jaw slack. "That's impossible... It's a trick..." she whispered, but the conviction had bled from her voice.

Frederick didn't grant her another look. His attention returned to me, his hand coming up to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Did they upset you?" he asked, his voice softening again.

I shook my head, but a traitorous heat prickled behind my eyes.

In my previous life, I had borne every humiliation alone. No one had ever stepped into the fray for me.

Now, he was here, my unexpected knight, pulling me from the shadows.

"Let's go home," Frederick said, his hand finding mine. His grip was warm, solid, an anchor in the storm. Just that simple touch filled me with the courage I hadn't felt in years.

I nodded, letting him lead me away.

As we passed Jessica, I paused. I turned my head and met her eyes, which were wide with shock and simmering envy.

"Jessica," I said, my voice clear and steady. "Thank you for the dare. It showed me how much my husband cares."

Leaving her gaping, I walked out with Frederick, leaving behind a room choked with stunned silence, whispered theories, and bitter jealousy. The heavy door swung shut, cutting off that suffocating world.

The cool night air outside the club was a balm. I took a deep breath, my head finally clearing.

A sleek black Bentley Mulsanne was idling at the curb, its polished surface reflecting the city's neon glow. A driver in a crisp uniform held the rear door open.

Frederick guided me in, his hand a protective shield against the doorframe.

He slid in beside me, and the door thudded shut, sealing us in a cocoon of quiet luxury. The tension from the club was gone, replaced by a new, intimate suspense that hummed in the air between us.

I stole a glance at him.

He was watching me, his expression inscrutable in the dim cabin light.

His gaze made my cheeks grow warm.

"Frederick..." I said, gathering my courage to broach the elephant in the room. I wanted to aske about last night.

"Call me honey," he interrupted, his tone gentle.

Oh, god. My face flushed scarlet.

"Are we... are we really married?" The question came out in a whisper.

Without a word, he reached into his inner suit pocket and produced a document, handing it to me.

It was a marriage certificate. In the photo, I was beaming, cheeks flushed, clinging to his arm like a happy koala.

He looked as composed as ever, but the usual aloofness in his eyes was tempered by a faint, undeniable warmth.

The state seal and the date were all devastatingly real. The date stamped was yesterday.

So I really did get married in a blackout?

And I married Frederick Grant? The Frederick Grant?

This wasn't a second chance. This was winning the lifetime lottery.