Chapter 42 – My Bride

***Alex***

Before I can react to Gheena's advance, I hear the sound of someone opening the door. I turn my head and find Harper, her face pale and frightened, staring at the scene. After lowering her head, she says, "Sorry, I didn't know it was occupied," pretending that the scene didn't bother her. But from the sadness that was evident, I could tell she was very embarrassed. It seems the outcome was better than I expected.

Harper was dressed very simply: her dress was white, but not very elegant, as is common. The dress was short, leaving her thighs exposed. She brushed her hair, removing her curls. What I demanded. Her hair was curly like Sarah's, and I didn't want anything on that day to remind me of my beloved fiancée.

"Look, Gheena, my bride has arrived!" I say to my companion. I would like to complain to her about her inappropriate behavior, after all, I didn't want to be kissed, but that would have to wait. I wouldn't give Harper that satisfaction.

"Then I guess I should make my way to the guest area," Gheena declares, in a mocking tone, leaving us alone in the room.

I remain in the bathroom, watching Harper go to the sink to wash her face. To my surprise, she is without makeup, only with pink lipstick, which she retouches after drying herself off.

"Wow, am I finally going to see Miss Johnson without makeup on?" I ask. I notice she observes me, as if she wanted to ask me something, but no word comes out of her mouth. So, I tease, "Cat got your tongue?"

"No. Your girlfriend must be a terrible kisser, since good kisses leave you breathless and unable to talk so much like you do right now!"

Ah, Harper is ironic? I really didn't expect that.

"Come on! Let's just get it done!" I order her to accompany me. The sooner we finished with this, the better.

"Alex," she touches my arm, which makes me turn my body, irritated.

I grab her hand and pull it out of my suit. "Don't touch me again."

Who did she think she was to touch me without permission?

Pretending to be a decent woman with scruples, she questions me. If I didn't know her, I might even think her expression was genuine.

"Why are you proposing this marriage when it's clear you don't want me as a wife, and you know I don't want you as a husband?"

I straighten my jacket and adjust my tie better.

"Because I want to. And it's the only way I can keep paying Sarah's medical bills, so if you don't want her to just languish, let's get this settled."

She finally falls silent and accompanies me, head bowed. At the altar, the priest and Harper's uncles are already there. I don't even glance at them.

When we position ourselves, Harper falls into silent tears. Although she makes no noise, tears stream from her eyes, as if marrying me were a great offense. Her pride doesn't let her see that my intention is to ruin the Johnson family. Marrying her is an even greater burden for me. But I will get my revenge.

I realize the priest is speaking too much, delving into details about the sanctity of marriage and the bond between husband and wife, things that don't interest me and that don't or will ever exist between Harper and me. He goes on about love, commitment, and unity, but his words fall on deaf ears. Irritated by the prolonged ceremony, I feel impatience creeping in. Finally, unable to endure any more of the priest's sermonizing, I interrupt sternly:

"Please, that is enough! I'm going to renovate this chapel like I promised, but I want you to get to the part where you say, 'I now pronounce you man and wife!'"

The priest then abruptly interrupts what he was saying, asking, "Harper, do you take Mr. Alex Montreal to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do," anyone listening to her voice would believe she was sincere.

"And, Mr. Montreal, do you take Harper Johnson to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Then, by the authority vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife! You may exchange rings, and you may kiss the bride."

I reach for Harper's right hand, where the engagement ring given by my grandmother rests. That ring she certainly doesn't deserve to wear. Her hand is cold and trembling. I take the ring off her right ring finger, moving it to her left. She repeats the gesture with the ring I wear. With that, the time for the kiss arrives. I don't want to kiss her. She has her eyes closed. I look at her and see how beautiful she is without all the makeup she wears.

I place my hand on her face, and she makes a nauseated expression. That annoys me. So, I quickly kiss her, just brushing our lips. She is petrified, and I need to move away quite a bit for her to open her eyes again.

"Come on, the show here is over." I take her hand and lead her through the chairs.

When we reach outside, Harper goes to the curb and vomits. I hope she doesn't do that in my car. Her uncle approaches me.

"Just tell me you'll take care of her!"

I give a broad smile.

"We can still make a trade. I would take much better care of Sarah! Let's go to your house and swap! Then, you can take care of Harper however you want!"

"Mr. Montreal, you will regret your words!"

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Johnson?"

"No. I wouldn't have such power, otherwise I wouldn't allow my niece to come to this wedding. I'm just saying that we all know, only some forget what goes around, comes around!"

"He really thinks I would set aside my vengeance, that I would abandon my plan to have Sarah under my care, for popular sayings?

"Pull yourself together, Harper, we need to go home."

I open the car door for her to get in, which she does quickly, as if she didn't want to regret it. I turn to Mr. Johnson:

"Now that we are relatives, could you do me a favor? Can you take my mistress back to the city center?" I point to Gheena.

Mrs. Johnson curses something, but her husband cuts her off:

"I wouldn't let my niece ride in the same car as her, Mr. Montreal."

"Great. Keep doing what I say, and your company will thrive again," I lie, as that is the last thing I want. "Now, goodbye!"