Wrong Room, Wrong Groom: Now He Won't Let Me Go

A slick layer of sweat coated Isabella's trembling palms, betraying the anxiety tightening around her chest.

Across the room, Natalie's eyes flickered back and forth between Isabella and Pamela, panic churning quietly beneath her composed exterior. Since childhood, Isabella had endured relentless verbal and physical abuse from their stepfather, scars that left her tongue tied in moments like this. No one understood that fragile, cornered look better than Natalie, and the sight of it twisted painfully in her chest.

Still, the Evans family had no idea—nor would they likely care—about Isabella's traumas.

Out of nowhere, a sudden weight pressed down on Natalie's shoulder.

Nathaniel stood beside her, his gaze glinting with lazy amusement, silently warning her to stay where she was and not ruin his entertainment.

A faint crease formed between Natalie's brows as she subtly leaned away, trying to put even a sliver of distance between them.

Unfazed, Nathaniel lifted a brow, and then slipped his hand beneath her coat with deliberate boldness, his warm palm settling firmly against her waist, holding her in place with quiet, undeniable control.

Unaware of the quiet intrusion, Natalie kept her eyes fixed on Isabella the entire time, drawn to her fragile, trembling presence.

Breaking the tension, the composed and distant Alexander, seated nearby, spoke in an unhurried tone. "There was no mistake—that plate number used to be mine. Nathaniel wanted it, so I handed it over."

Caught off-guard, Natalie turned to the man abruptly, her breath hitching.

Was Alexander actually stepping in for Isabella?

What possible reason could he have for doing that?

No matter how she turned it over, Natalie refused to believe a man like Alexander possessed any real kindness, nor could she imagine that a single night together would stir even the faintest attachment toward her sister.

Though his voice remained level and detached, Alexander's words rippled through the room like a stone cast into still water, quietly redirecting the blame and easing the weight pressing down on Isabella, suggesting the fault did not rest solely on her shoulders.

Pamela's sharp, assessing gaze drifted from Isabella to her eldest son, a trace of silent questioning in her eyes.

Beside him, Isabella also stared at Alexander in a stunned haze.

A sharp sting rose in her nose, and she quickly lowered her head, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling.

For a brief moment, Pamela fell silent in thought.

Ordinarily, girls from families like theirs would never have entered her consideration. Still, her mother-in-law, Celine Evans, was critically ill, and more than anything, Celine longed to see Alexander settled and married before her time was up.

Finding a bride willing to go along with their family's demand—getting pregnant before the wedding—was no easy task.

After digging around for a while, Pamela finally found the Brown family.

Natalie struck her as sharp and levelheaded. With the right polish, Pamela believed the girl could be shaped into a presentable Mrs. Evans for Alexander, her proud eldest son.

In Pamela's eyes, a household like the Evans family, standing where they did now, benefited far more from a compliant daughter-in-law than from some strategic marriage alliance.

Daughters raised in powerful, wealthy families were usually spoiled from birth, and Pamela knew that if she tried to rein them in, they would only grow bitter and rebellious.

She had always believed Alexander's ambitions did not need a woman to prop them up. What he needed was a wife who listened.

For that reason, Pamela approved of Natalie. When Natalie suggested that Isabella be married into the Evans family as well, Pamela agreed after some consideration.

To Pamela, Isabella's soft, yielding nature made her the perfect choice to smooth out Nathaniel's unruly temperament.

The thought of training two daughters-in-law herself delighted Pamela, and that satisfaction made her decision come easily.

Then her sharp eyes settled on Natalie. "You know I picked you for Alex from the start. This wasn't the outcome I wanted. But since you and Nathan have already... Your marrying Alex is no longer possible. Are you willing to marry Nathan instead?"

At her waist, the hand resting there tightened just enough to feel like a quiet threat. Natalie lifted her eyes and met Nathaniel's teasing, unreadable stare.

She had a strong feeling the man was doing this on purpose, just to toy with her again.

Drawing in a slow breath, she forced down the storm of emotion twisting through her chest.

With things having reached this point, remaining with the Evans family was her only real choice, and it was still far better than being dragged back to the Brown family.

As for her future husband, without any feelings involved, it made no difference to her.

"I am," Natalie remarked, lifting her chin and meeting Pamela's gaze with quiet, steady resolve. "I'll accept the Evans family's decision and marry Nathaniel."

Approval flickered in Pamela's eyes, and she gave a small nod. "Very well."

"Mrs. Evans, about my sister…" Natalie brought up cautiously.

At once, Pamela's face turned even colder. "What's done is done. We'll see whether Alex is willing to keep her."

Off to the side, Isabella cautiously looked toward Alexander when she heard that.

What he had said that morning echoed in her mind—"And what makes you think I would take the time to teach you?"

A faint chill ran through Isabella. She was still afraid of Alexander, yet deep down, she desperately wanted to stay. Would he agree?

"She'll stay," Alexander said curtly, his gaze brushing over Isabella's strained, uneasy face without the slightest trace of warmth.

In an instant, the tight knot in Isabella's chest loosened. Her fingertips pressed quietly into her palm as she lowered her head, trying to conceal the tears shimmering at the edge of her eyes.

Rising to her feet with crisp authority, Pamela spoke in a tone that brooked no resistance. "Since everything's settled, Isabella will marry Alex, and Natalie will be with Nathan. But remember what I told you—Alex is already past thirty."

Her sharp gaze shifted to Isabella as she added coolly, "You need to conceive as soon as possible. Now that you're with Alex, I'll be holding you to a higher standard. If you can't even stand beside your husband at social events, then you can start preparing for a divorce within three months."

A subtle tremor ran through Isabella's delicate shoulders, barely visible beneath her composure, as she lowered her eyes and answered softly, "Understood, Mrs. Evans… I'll work hard to learn."

Upon seeing her fragile attempt to stay steady, Alexander's expression dimmed almost imperceptibly, a shadow crossing his gaze, though he chose to remain silent.

Some of the sharpness drained from Pamela's face, her tone easing now that she'd made her point. "Once the marriage is registered, you'll officially be part of the Evans family."

…

Stepping out of the Evans Estate, the two newly formed couples parted ways, each heading toward their own waiting car.

With quiet precision, Alexander pulled open the rear door for Isabella, his movements composed and unhurried. Offering a quiet thanks, she slipped inside and instinctively pressed herself toward the window, shrinking into the corner.

Through the glass, her gaze clung to the car ahead, knowing her sister sat inside it, bound for the same destination—the courthouse.

Drawing in a slow breath, Isabella tried to anchor herself, silently repeating that as long as her sister was near, she didn't have to be afraid.

Yet the thought lingered stubbornly in her chest. Three months… could she truly endure it?

Breaking through the suffocating quiet, Alexander's low, measured voice cut in without warning, "I'll be back tonight."

Startled, she turned toward him, her wide eyes colliding with his unreadable expression.

Memories of his overwhelming dominance the night before flashed through her mind, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth before giving a small nod. "I understand," she murmured.

A dull soreness lingered in her legs, refusing to fade.

Nothing about last night had been gentle; when she had tried to pull away, he had simply tightened his grip, holding her firmly in place.

Her struggling only seemed to annoy him, and in the end, he had flipped her over, pressing her down against the sheets, trapping her beneath him.

The urgency of conceiving within three months made it certain—he'd spend another night with her.

Fear crept unmistakably across her pale features. That same expression reminded Alexander of how she had trembled beneath him, her soft, broken sounds echoing faintly in his memory, and his throat moved subtly as he swallowed.

Even so, when he spoke, his tone came out unexpectedly even. "There's no need to look like that," he muttered coolly. "If getting pregnant within three months isn't what you want, we can stay in separate rooms."

At once, panic surged through Isabella, tightening her chest. "I do want it," she blurted quickly. "I really do… You can come back every night if you want."

"I'm not the kind of person who acts on every urge." The tightness in Alexander's demeanor eased, her response clearly landing as intended. "As soon as there's an opening, I'll take you along to some gatherings."

Returning to his usual detached composure, his voice remained steady, almost indifferent. "Focus on improving yourself. The Evans family has no place for someone who contributes nothing."

…

Meanwhile, inside Nathaniel's car, the mood shifted into something far more charged.

Once Natalie settled into her seat and exhaled a quiet breath, he immediately leaned in, his tall frame boxing her in as a teasing grin tugged at his lips.

"So it looks like you're the one I ended up marrying," he drawled.

Instead of responding, Natalie simply turned her eyes toward him.

Unbothered by her silence, Nathaniel continued with a lazy chuckle, "Tell me—out of everything we tried last night, which way did you like best?"

Confusion flickered through her as she compared the two Evans brothers in her mind, unable to reconcile how they could be so utterly different. "The driver is still here," she whispered.

A crooked smile spread across Nathaniel's face as he tilted his head. "Relax. He's married too. You really think he doesn't know what happens between a man and his wife? Besides, you were pretty bold last night, weren't you? You had no trouble getting my clothes off."

Drawing her brows together, Natalie shot him a sharp look. "I thought you were Alexander Evans," she retorted. "I was only fulfilling what I believed was my responsibility as his future wife."

Nathaniel's fingers traced along the curve of her jaw, his touch unhurried. "Tell me, what's the real difference? Being with me still counts as you playing the role of a future wife, doesn't it?"

Tilting her face away from his hand, she answered coolly, "With you, it feels more like indulging your own entertainment."

At that, his posture shifted; the playful edge in his demeanor receded as he straightened, something sharper settling in his gaze.

Fixing her with a steadier look, he said, "You're hoping to get pregnant, aren't you? If that's the goal, then keeping me entertained is part of the deal, so you'd better start getting used to it."

A deliberate bite edged his tone as he added, "My mother's already impatient for a grandchild."

In his mind, Natalie was no different from the many women who had tried to win his favor before; the only reason he lingered in conversation now was because she still held a trace of novelty.

Interest, however, was something he could discard just as quickly.

Even though she had been his first, that fact carried little weight for him—it had happened only because his mother insisted he share a bed with his future wife.

Left to his own inclinations, he would never have chosen to touch her at all.

An unspoken irritation tightened Nathaniel's jaw as he said flatly, "I won't be coming back tonight."

Unease flickered between Natalie's brows, already sensing that the more she brought up pregnancy, the more stubbornly he pushed back.

Keeping her voice steady, she replied, "All right… just tell me when you plan to return."

Nathaniel's features tightened, flickering with irritation. "I don't feel like seeing you for a while. Don't expect me back for at least a week."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, though her tone remained composed. "Got it."

Their voices fell away, leaving only a tense hush.

After a long, restless minute, Nathaniel suddenly lashed out, his foot slamming against the car door. "Pull over. Tell Alexander to handle things for me—I'm not going to the marriage registration myself."

Without hesitation, the driver steered the vehicle to the roadside and brought it to a stop. "Mr. Evans, if you don't appear in person for the registration…"

"They'll manage without me." With a careless flick of his wrist, Nathaniel tossed his identification onto the seat, already shifting toward the door. Yet even as he stepped out, Nathalie didn't call out once or try to hold him there.

Irritation deepened, settling heavily across his features.

In his mind, Natalie became even more dull, utterly devoid of anything worth his attention.

Just as he started to swing the door shut, a whisper drifted from the back seat, so soft and fleeting that anyone less sharp than him would have missed it.

"What a lunatic!" she muttered.

Before he could even slam his foot against the car again, the vehicle had already surged forward and sped away from the curb.

Lunatic?

That woman actually had some nerve, insulting him to his face like that!

In a sudden surge of anger, Nathaniel nearly decided to call off the marriage on the spot.

Then he shoved a hand into his pocket, only for his expression to stiffen. His phone was still in the car.

He glanced at Alexander's vehicle behind them, thinking he could stop it and speak to his brother face-to-face. But in the very next moment, Alexander's car accelerated without hesitation and swept right past him.