HEAVENLY PAIN MARRIAGE

03. Screw This Wedding!

The rooftop venue glimmers under the morning sun, but none of it feels real to me. I sit alone at a table tucked into the garden’s corner, far from the laughter and clinking champagne glasses. This isn’t a wedding; it’s a transaction wrapped in extravagance. Guests buzz around like bees in a gilded hive, chatting and congratulating, oblivious to the suffocating weight in my chest.

Maximilian’s friends and family swarm through the garden, each one effortlessly fitting into this world he dragged me into three days ago—a world I don’t belong to.

“Oh, the bride is beautiful! What a dress!”

“I heard the wedding was arranged quickly. No one expecting this marriage before.”

“Strange, isn't it? But look at this—he spared no expense, proofing everything.”

“She’s lucky. It’s Maximilian Milton, after all. Who wouldn’t want to be in her shoes?”

Lucky. That word cuts through me. I glance at the ring on my finger, a sparkling band I never wanted. My thumb rubs the cold metal as if trying to erase it. There was no moment of happiness, no vows that felt like promises—just a short, impersonal ritual that ended with this: the title of Mrs. Milton and an empty place at the table.

A woman to marry, a world to leave behind. That’s all this is. I scan the rooftop but find no trace of him. Maximilian is nowhere, just as he has been since the ceremony ended. It’s like I’ve married a ghost.

Two women nearby giggle over their wine, drawing my attention.

"Do you think she knows?"

“Mm… I don't think so.”

“She looks completely clueless about why she's here. Kinda sad tho."

They whisper loudly enough to catch my interest, though I can’t tell if it’s intentional. But then I catch a glimpse of Jax across the rooftop, and my focus shifts. He laughs easily with some of Maximilian’s people, fitting into their world as if he belongs. How does he know them? The question gnaws at me, returning no matter how often I try to push it aside. What exactly did Jax do here before?

I stare at him, wishing he would stay on the other side of the party. But he catches my eye and, with that infuriating smile, walks toward me. He pulls out the chair beside me and sits as if we’re old friends. “Is this what a bride does on her wedding day? Stay away from people?”

“Stop acting like we know each other,” I snap, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “I’m the wife of the leader of the Milton Group now.”

Jax leans back casually, unfazed by my words. “I’m quite hurt to hear that. I used to be the older brother you loved the most.”

I clench my fists, heat rising to my face. “If I could,” I hiss, “I would love to kill you with my own hands.”

For a moment, something flickers across Jax’s face—it looks almost like understanding—but it vanishes, replaced by a bitter smile that only deepens my hatred.

“In the end, I’m still going to die anyway,” he murmurs, his voice low and calm. He takes my right hand and gently pulls it to his lips. “You don’t need to stain your delicate hands with my blood.” He kisses my hand, tenderly, full of false honor. I feel disgust and quickly pull my hand away.

I stand abruptly, clenching the heavy fabric of my dress as I turn toward the door. Before I can take more than a few steps, two guards rush toward me, blocking my way.

“Madam,” one says stiffly, “Mr. Milton wants you to stay here until the party is over. It won’t be long.”

I feel Jax’s eyes on me, but he remains silent, watching with mild interest. Narrowing my eyes at the guards, I snap, “Should I defile this sacred feast with my pee?”