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6.41% Flash Marriage: I Became The CEO's Healing Pill / Chapter 5: Where is the groom?

Chapitre 5: Where is the groom?

Claire and Richard's eyes widened in shock.

"No way... she can't take Maya's place. We have to find her," Claire said, glancing at Richard, who seemed lost in thought, weighing Evelina's proposal.

Richard cut her off sharply. "What do you mean, 'find her'? She's gone! We have no way of tracking her down tonight, and we don't even know which country she's in! We don't have a choice, Claire. We'll have to use Evelina. She's my daughter too."

'Oh, now I'm your daughter?' Evelina thought bitterly, raising an eyebrow as her jaw tightened, her fists clenching with quiet rage.

"But the Hargraves don't know that. They think she's a maid... If Camille finds out her son married a maid, what do you think she'll do?" Claire snapped, her tone laced with panic, desperately trying to sway Richard's decision.

This spot was meant for my daughter, not that brat. Why did Maya have to make everything so difficult for me? Claire's frustration was palpable. She shot Evelina a brief glare, then turned back to Richard with a pleading look.

Evelina folded her arms, watching Claire's every move with an amused smirk. I've said it before, and I'll say it again—my father will do anything for money.

Richard raised a hand, signaling for Claire to stop.

"But if we don't provide a bride... it will be worse! And you know I can't afford to lose this deal!" Richard's voice was sharp, frustration creeping into his tone.

"But—" Claire stammered, trying to find a way out.

"I'll reveal the truth—that Evelina is indeed my daughter," Richard said firmly.

"But that would paint me as a wicked stepmother!" Claire protested, her voice rising in outrage.

"Then so be it. This wouldn't have happened if your daughter hadn't run away! And with her elder sister's fiancé?!" Richard shot back, his words cutting through the air.

How predictable, Evelina rolled her eyes.

Richard turned his gaze to Evelina. "You will marry in Maya's place... but we'll cover you at first, so no one notices. By the time your veil is lifted, it'll be too late to stop the wedding."

Evelina nodded, remaining silent.

Even after all this, he still won't give me my inheritance or the CEO position at the company. So I won't even bother asking.

Richard left, leaving Claire and Evelina alone.

Claire's face twisted with fury as she stormed toward Evelina.

"Was this your plan all along?" Claire spat, her voice low but sharp. "Convincing my daughter to run away with your fiancé so you could marry into the richest family in her place? What kind of older sister are you?"

Can she even hear herself? I'm just doing what Maya always does—steal when given the opportunity. That's what she does to me all the time. Why can't I do the same? Whenever she does it, it's not seen as something bad, but now that I'm doing the same... I'm the villain.

Evelina's expression remained calm, unbothered by the outburst. She took a slow breath, watching Claire's face contort with anger, almost as if she were waiting for her to explode.

"Let me make something clear," Evelina said coolly, her voice unwavering. "I didn't make Maya run away. That was her choice, not mine. And as for this chance to marry into the richest family? I didn't ask for it, but it's happening whether you like it or not."

What? How dare she start talking back at me?!

Claire's eyes narrowed, her hands trembling with barely contained rage. "Don't think you're fooling me, Evelina. I know exactly what you're after—everything you couldn't have before, through the back door."

Evelina's lips curled into a slight smirk. "If you really think I wanted this, you're more deluded than I thought." Her tone was icy, as cold as the resolve in her heart. "But if you think I'm going to step aside for your daughter... think again."

Claire's fury intensified, her face reddening with a mixture of disbelief and pure hatred. "You think you're going to take her place and just... waltz into that family as if nothing happened?" she sneered. "I'll make sure your place there is as precarious as Maya's absence."

Evelina stepped closer, her gaze steady, meeting Claire's with a challenge. "I'm not the one who needs to worry about where I stand. You're the one who's built your whole life on manipulating others to get what you want. But this time, you won't win."

Evelina didn't look like the innocent child Claire always punished and manipulated. Right now, Evelina looked like a force to be reckoned with. Her composure, her icy resolve, and the sharpness in her gaze made it clear she wasn't the same person Claire had once easily dominated. There was a power in her stance, a quiet defiance that wasn't there before.

When did she change this much? Claire thought, I can't even bring myself to slap her anymore.

The tables had turned, and Claire wasn't sure how to deal with the new Evelina standing before her.

Evelina's confidence only grew as Claire's anger faltered, her words stumbling under the weight of Evelina's unyielding presence. Evelina then walked away. I don't have to pretend anymore. Being innocent, timid didn't help. From now on, I will take what's mine with every opportunity I get.

---

The next morning, Evelina sat in front of the full-length mirror in her bridal chamber. The soft light of the early sun spilled through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room.

She had hardly slept, but in the quiet stillness of the morning, she felt more awake than ever. The wedding dress—its satin and lace delicately crafted—was draped over her, hugging her figure.

Her brown hair was styled in an elegant updo, soft curls pinned neatly in place, small pearls twinkling.

As the hired assistants worked around her, smoothing the folds of the gown, she barely took notice of their movements. Her gaze was fixed on her reflection in the mirror, her eyes bright and intense.

She studied herself, a small, almost imperceptible smile curling on her lips.

The girl who had once been nothing more than a shadow of her sister, the girl who was overlooked, ignored, and mistreated—now stood in front of the mirror as the bride.

Ah, I really am more beautiful when I smile, she thought, smiling wider.

As the last touches were applied by the attendants, Evelina remained silent, her hands resting lightly in her lap. She smiled at her reflection, the smile more genuine than it had been in years.

One of the attendants brought a white lace veil and draped it over her head, the fabric covering her face.

Evelina stood slowly, taking a deep breath. This is it, she thought. This is the moment I take what I'm owed.

She walked toward the door, every step calculated, her thoughts resolute. She was ready for what awaited her. This was her chance, and she wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers.

The hall outside was grand, lavishly decorated for the occasion, but Evelina barely noticed the details. Her focus was singular—on the doors ahead, the threshold she would cross into her future.

As she approached, the doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the gathering of guests and the grand altar at the end of the aisle. Evelina's heart gave a small flutter, but then she noticed something odd. The groom was not at the altar.

What's going on? She thought, raising an eyebrow.

The music started, the first notes of the ceremony filling the air, bringing her back from her reverie. With steady steps, she moved forward, her gaze fixed on the altar. She could feel the eyes of the guests on her, could almost sense the weight of their expectations bearing down. But none of it mattered.

As Evelina reached the altar, she stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle around her. The weight of the veil on her head felt heavy, its delicate lace brushing against her skin. But something still bothered her.

She glanced around the room. The familiar faces of her father, Claire, Mr. Hargrave, Mrs. Hargrave, and the rest of the Hargrave family were visible among the guests—but there was no sign of the groom.

Why isn't he here? she thought, a slight furrow crossing her brow. She scanned the altar again, her eyes narrowing as she waited, but the groom remained absent.

The priest, who had been standing quietly at the altar, looked at Evelina, then back toward the doors, as if unsure whether to proceed. There was a murmuring among the guests, a ripple of confusion spreading through the room.

Evelina clenched her bouquet of flowers, biting her lip. She could feel the eyes of the room on her, their expectations pressing down on her, but she remained unmoving, her expression serene.

She wasn't about to let this delay break her composure.

An hour passed, but no one came forward.

Where is he? Evelina thought again, this time her calm mask slipping ever so slightly. The groom's absence was unusual, and despite her earlier resolve, she couldn't suppress a brief moment of doubt.

The priest cleared his throat, and the murmurs in the crowd grew louder.

"Is something wrong?" a voice called from the crowd. Evelina glanced back, catching the angry look on Mrs. Hargrave's face.

The tension in the room was thick, but Evelina took a deep breath, straightening her back. Please... come, she thought, closing her eyes tightly.

If the groom didn't show up, it would be his loss. But still... she hoped he would.

"Ah, just change the time for the meeting to late this afternoon. I have something to attend to," a calm, soothing voice echoed from the back of the hall.


Chapitre 6: A Union In Name Only.

Evelina's eyes snapped open, and she turned to see everyone else in the room doing the same.

Her breath caught as she saw him.

A tall handsome young man with neatly styled black hair, wearing a sharp black suit. His amber eyes, piercing and intense, scanned the room as he casually walked down the aisle, an earbud in his ear. His polished shoes clicked against the marble floor, each step reverberating through the room like a metronome. The faint scent of his cologne—a mix of spice and smoke—wafted past Evelina, leaving her slightly dizzy.

Her heart skipped a beat. Is he my husband-to-be?

The man reached the altar and stood by her side.

The crowd fell silent, all eyes fixed on the mysterious man. Evelina's mind raced as she struggled to maintain her composure. His presence was magnetic, commanding the attention of everyone in the room without a single word.

He removed the earbud and slipped it into his pocket. Then he turned to Evelina, his amber eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, she felt as though he could see right through her veil.

He looked away and addressed the priest. "Please commence."

Evelina straightened her posture, determined not to betray the storm of unease building within her. She kept her gaze fixed on the priest as the man beside her adjusted his cufflinks. It was obvious he was impatient, each motion sharp and deliberate.

The priest stepped forward, clearing his throat to begin.

"We are gathered here today—"

"Skip to the vows," the man interrupted, his tone clipped and businesslike. He didn't even glance at the priest, his amber eyes scanning the crowd as though calculating how much time this charade was costing him.

The room fell silent, stunned by his boldness. Evelina's lips tightened into a polite smile, but she couldn't help the flare of irritation rising in her chest. What kind of man treats his wedding as if it's a board meeting? Was this all just an inconvenience to him?

The priest hesitated, then nodded quickly. "Of course. Ms. Maya Moore, do you take this man to be your lawful husband, to honor and uphold your union in all matters?"

Evelina glanced at the man beside her, searching for any hint of warmth in his rigid posture. There was none. He stood like a statue, exuding an aura of authority and detachment. She drew a breath, masking her uncertainty with a practiced smile. "I do."

The priest turned to the man. "And do you, Mr. Leone Hargrave, take this woman to be your lawful wife, to honor and uphold your union in all matters?"

"I do," he replied tersely, his deep voice carrying no emotion. He checked the sleek watch on his wrist, making no effort to hide his impatience.

The priest cleared his throat. "Now, the rings."

A young attendant stepped forward, carrying a small velvet tray with two gold bands neatly placed on it. Leone's gaze flicked to the tray, his expression unreadable. Evelina, however, noticed the faintest twitch of irritation in his jaw.

The attendant offered the tray first to Evelina. She picked up the ring meant for Leone, her hands steady despite the pressure of the moment. Turning to him, she hesitated only briefly before sliding the band onto his finger. His amber eyes met hers for the briefest moment, unreadable and cold, before he looked away.

The attendant then stepped toward Leone, who picked up Evelina's ring without ceremony. He took her hand, his grip firm and impersonal, and slid the band onto her finger in one fluid motion. His fingers were warm, but the touch was mechanical—impersonal. Evelina fought the urge to pull away, her pulse quickening beneath his grip.

"Done," he said flatly, releasing her hand as though even that brief contact was too much.

The priest, clearly flustered, quickly moved to conclude. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—"

Leone raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. "That won't be necessary." His voice was ice, his gaze already shifting away from Evelina. "It's done."

Without waiting for acknowledgment, he turned sharply, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor as he strode toward the exit.

Evelina stood frozen at the altar, her veil still in place. Around her, the murmurs began to rise.

"My goodness, is that the son of Camille Hargrave?" whispered an older woman in pearls. Her companion frowned. "The Hargrave heir? I expected him to be more… sophisticated."

"Don't you think he's a bit too harsh?" a man hissed. "He asked the pope to skip most of the ceremony!"

Evelina's fingers curled into fists at her sides, the gold band on her finger feeling more like a shackle with each passing second.

So this is the man I married, she thought bitterly. And he doesn't even have the decency to pretend to care.

Evelina watched Leone's retreating back as he exited the grand hall without so much as a glance in her direction. Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she fought the urge to tear off her veil and follow him—not out of affection, but to demand an explanation for his brazen disregard. Yet, she remained rooted to the spot, forcing a serene expression onto her face, even as whispers swirled around her like a storm.

"Doesn't even wait to kiss the bride," someone murmured.

"Such arrogance," another voice chimed in. "No wonder the Hargraves have so many enemies."

Camille Hargrave sat in the front row, her finely gloved hands pressed against her temples as if to stave off the impending headache her son was causing. She was a woman of poise and prestige, the matriarch of the Hargrave family and no stranger to maintaining appearances in even the most trying situations. But this? This was enough to make her question if Leone was deliberately trying to provoke her into an early grave.

First, he had the audacity to arrive late, sauntering into the ceremony as if it were an afterthought. Then, to her utter mortification, he had dismissed every sacred tradition as if they were nuisances, reducing the entire event to a clinical transaction. And now, this grand finale—storming out of his own wedding without even acknowledging the bride. Camille's lips tightened into a thin line as she fought the urge to shout after him.

"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, her sharp amber eyes following Leone's retreating figure. "Does he think this is some kind of statement? Refusing to kiss his bride, treating her like a business partner? What is he trying to prove? That he's above all of us?"

"Camille," Ambrose, patriarch of the hargrave family, murmured cautiously. "Lower your voice. The guests are watching."

She shot him a glare. "Let them watch. They'll have plenty to talk about after this circus. It's a miracle I don't keel over from sheer humiliation." Her eyes flicked to Evelina, still standing at the altar, her posture as composed as ever despite the obvious insult.

Camille felt a pang of guilt as she studied the young woman.

Leaning back in her seat, Camille inhaled deeply, forcing herself to regain her composure. This is salvageable. Somehow. She refused to let Leone's stubbornness ruin everything she had worked so hard to arrange. The Hargraves' reputation might be frayed after this, but she wasn't about to let it unravel entirely.

Camille's fingers tapped impatiently against the armrest of her chair, the murmurs in the room growing louder with each passing second. Her patience was thinning rapidly. Finally, she turned to Ambrose, her expression resolute. "Send someone after him," she hissed, her voice sharp. "Tell him to get back here before I drag him myself."

Ambrose sighed, rubbing his temples. "You know Leone, my dear. Once he's made up his mind—"

"Then he can unmake it!" Camille snapped, her eyes flashing with a cold fury. "If he thinks he can waltz out of this marriage unscathed, he's sorely mistaken. I won't allow his arrogance to ruin the Hargrave name. Not after everything we've sacrificed."

Ambrose gave a half-hearted chuckle, his tone dry. "I think he takes after someone," he muttered under his breath, an almost playful hint in his voice.

Camille shot him a withering glare, her lips pressing into a thin line. Ambrose raised a reluctant hand in surrender, gesturing to a nearby attendant, who hurried to receive his whispered instructions. Camille straightened in her seat, smoothing her dress, preparing herself to address the guests if necessary. If Leone won't act like a proper Hargrave, I will.

As the commotion continued, Camille's gaze shifted to Evelina, who was descending the altar steps with an air of grace, handling the unfolding disaster far better than Camille could have imagined. Stronger than she looks, Camille mused, a faint spark of approval glinting in her eyes. Good. She'll need that strength if she's going to survive being married to my idiot son.

But just as Camille was about to look away, a strong wind from the fans blew Evelina's veil, revealing her features for a brief moment. Camille's eyes widened. Isn't that the Moore family maid? What about their daughter, Maya?

Her heart sank, the bitter taste of betrayal quickly spreading through her chest. She turned her gaze toward Richard, who was mingling with the other guests, Claire standing close by his side. Did they trick me? Camille's thoughts spiraled into a frenzy. By disgracing my family like this? By giving a maid to marry my son? This is unacceptable.


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