Chapter 3 You're Not Coming With Me

Henry loomed over her, easily a head taller, his body caging her in until her gaze landed helplessly on the sharp line of his collarbone.

The intensity bearing down on her made breathing a struggle, forcing her voice into a fragile, pleading whisper. "Please... can we sit down and talk?"

His reply cut straight through her. "Not until you answer me."

She squeezed her eyes shut, wrestling with herself, then gave a small, tense nod-teeth clenched as if the motion pained her.

Escaping Caiden left her with no path except marrying Henry.

The instant she gave a subtle nod, Henry eased back, giving her room to breathe.

He crossed the living room with unhurried confidence, dropped onto the sofa bare-chested, and casually used the towel she had fetched to rake the dampness from his hair. The way he settled in-the quiet authority in every movement-made it feel as if he owned the place, not her.

Her pulse slowed, and her mind drifted unwillingly to their first encounter three years ago.

That evening, Caiden had dragged her to a business dinner. His company, the Smith Group, prepared to dip its toes into the aviation world. As a well-known airline captain, Henry got an invite.

Henry stepped into the venue in a gray-blue aviation uniform, the crisp fabric hinting he had come straight from a cockpit.

He carried himself with a cool, distant discipline, a quiet severity completely unlike the bare-chested, disarmingly sensual man sitting in her apartment now.

Throughout the dinner, Caiden kept trying to coax Henry into offering him a few lucrative leads, yet he thought little of Henry, speaking with the same kind of smug superiority.

Henry, refusing to rise to the bait, shut Caiden out completely and, instead, drifted toward Irene just before the event wrapped up, stopping beside her to quietly exchange contact details.

Worried that Caiden might take offense, Irene hesitated-but her devotion had always been so painfully self-effacing that Caiden viewed her as a loyal pet, someone too timid to ever look at another man.

He even nudged her closer to Henry, amused rather than threatened.

Later that night, Henry cast her a look laced with disappointment, as if he couldn't understand why she would let herself be treated that way.

They had already swapped contact information, and in the quiet that followed, Henry revealed the truth behind his approach-their mothers had been childhood friends who once arranged a future marriage between the two of them.

His mother, Abby Shaw, had grown frail over the years and had urged him to marry Irene quickly, hoping to pull her out of that toxic family.

Yet back then, Irene had clung stubbornly to her feelings for Caiden and rejected Henry without hesitation.

Confronting who she used to be, she could only recognize a gullible girl who didn't know any better.

A few minutes passed before a sharp knock echoed through the small apartment.

A man in a tailored suit stepped inside, carrying a neatly folded set of Henry's clothes along with a slim folder.

Irene instinctively assumed he was just another courier, but the formal suit made her blink in confusion.

Henry changed at a slow, deliberate pace and casually flicked the folder toward her.

Irene snapped back from her daze, her fingers brushing over the cover just long enough to realize it was a marriage contract.

Inside, the terms spelled out her role-she was to act as Henry's wife after they got married and keep Abby, still fragile and recovering, from knowing it was all an arrangement.

Henry, listed as the offeror, promised her a monthly compensation of two hundred thousand.

The figure made Irene's breath hitch, her eyebrows lifting in quiet disbelief.

Henry earned well as an airline captain-that much she knew-but offering such a steep monthly payment still felt excessive, even for him.

She instinctively wondered if he was doing this to reclaim the dignity Caiden had stripped from him years ago.

But she had never planned to take that kind of money, nor did she want Henry sinking into debt just to soothe an old bruise to his pride.

With that in mind, she straightened a little and spoke with quiet resolve. "I'm fine with everything else, but you don't need to pay me anything. Once we're married, I'll get a job and support myself."

The faint shift in Henry's expression chilled the air between them. His brows dipped, a shadow hardening his face as he listened.

When she noticed that change, Irene's heartbeat picked up. Was he... like Caiden? Would he also demand she stay home, trapped and dependent, forbidden from earning her own living?

Henry's quiet reply drifted over before she could gather her thoughts. "The money you earn belongs to you. It has nothing to do with what I'm giving you."

Irene flicked him a sidelong look, an amused breath slipping through her chest-men and their stubborn pride never changed.

He held her gaze without a hint of warmth. "Once we're married, contract or not, you'll be my wife."

His cool stare pinned her in place, and when he noticed she was gearing up to refuse again, his voice dipped even lower. "You'll need money. It's tough to get hired when you don't even have the right clothes for interviews, isn't it?"

The reminder made her glance down at her plain outfit, a crooked smile tugging at her lips.

A beat passed before she finally exhaled and made up her mind. She would take the money-for now-and give every cent back to Abby when the chance came.

Having finally gotten her reluctant nod, Henry pressed her to finish the marriage application forms, his tone leaving little room for hesitation.

Irene flipped through each page, her fingers trembling slightly as she complied.

Once the paperwork was done, Henry pushed himself to his feet, and she walked him to the door with quiet politeness.

"You're not coming with me?" he queried, a note of clear displeasure threading through his voice.

"So... soon?" Caught off guard, Irene blinked. She then added in a small voice, "I still have a few things I need to take care of."

A restrained grimace tugged at Henry's brow. "You have three days to wrap them up."

"Alright then," she replied softly, her gaze dropping.

Henry shot her a final, unreadable look before striding out of the apartment, his steps long and decisive.

With only three days to prepare, Irene didn't dare lose a second. By the next morning, she was already sorting and boxing up the things Caiden had once bought for her.

In the middle of her frantic work, the doorbell chimed.

A tall young woman stepped inside, introducing herself with brisk confidence as Kallie Todd-Henry's secretary, apparently dispatched to help with the move.

Sizing up Kallie's long legs and crisp, tailored coat, Irene found herself quietly wondering if airline captains normally kept secretaries on staff.

Her nerves strangled the question before it could form, so she mustered a small, polite smile and murmured, "Thank you."

The moment Kallie crossed the threshold, her nose wrinkled in blatant disapproval. "Miss Burton, your ex really didn't spend a dime on you, did he? All this stuff looks bargain-bin cheap."

Then, without waiting for Irene to recover, she clasped Irene's hand and steered her toward the door. "Come on, let's get you some proper things. If Mr. Shaw saw this pile of junk, he'd chew me out for letting it slide."

Caiden's gifts hadn't been extravagant, but they were solid, well-made pieces.

Still, hearing Kallie dismiss them as "junk" because Henry would supposedly sneer at them left Irene quietly stunned.

How did an airline captain's salary stretch far enough for something so over the top?

Was Henry once more hiding behind that carefully curated image? Doubt flickered through Irene, leaving her unconvinced.

Drawn along by Kallie's insistent grip, she let herself be ushered outside, and before long they were stepping into a gleaming mall entrance. Inside, a sudden jolt shot through her-just ahead stood two closely leaning figures she knew all too well: Caiden and Paulina, her wedding dress billowing around her.