There's something distinctly humbling about walking into a room full of billionaires and realizing you are tonight's main event—not because of anything you've accomplished, but because of how spectacularly your life has spiraled out of control.
Jackson Carter, my accidental husband, strolled beside me, exuding more confidence than a man who'd married a stranger by mistake had any right to. He wore a tailored black suit that fit him far too well for someone who spent his days leaving boots on my coffee table and raiding my fridge. His tie was loose, his hair was perfectly messy, and he looked… smug.
Meanwhile, I was trying not to trip over my borrowed gown, which Jackson had miraculously sourced through his "stylist friend." Said stylist, I suspected, may have been a mannequin at a discount store, because the dress was gorgeous but slightly too tight, and I could barely breathe.
"I thought I could get through this night with a shred of dignity," I muttered under my breath as we stepped into the ballroom.
"You're doing great," Jackson replied, his hand casually brushing the small of my back. "Look, no one's thrown tomatoes yet."
I shot him a glare. "The night is young."
---
As soon as we entered, Jackson did the thing I was dreading the most. He performed.
He grabbed my hand and dramatically kissed it, making sure everyone in the room noticed. The gesture was so over-the-top that even the waiter carrying hors d'oeuvres stopped to stare. Jackson turned his head slightly, winking at a nearby photographer like we were starring in some 90s rom-com montage.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, yanking my hand back.
"Giving the people a show," he said, his grin unrelenting. "Mrs. Carter, you're married to the most interesting man in this room. Let's own it."
"Stop making it worse!"
"Worse? Babe, I'm your PR miracle."
---
As we moved through the crowd, I could hear the whispers start, like a chain reaction of verbal landmines.
"Is that him? The one she married by mistake?"
"He's nothing like Ethan Grey. So casual… is he chewing gum?"
"Typical Harper drama. I heard she didn't even know his name."
I wanted to sink into the floor. Jackson, on the other hand, seemed to thrive under the scrutiny. He leaned into his "wild card husband" persona, giving a cheeky wave to one of the staring couples.
"Do you have to encourage them?" I hissed.
"They're curious," he said with a shrug. "I'm just answering questions with my face."
---
The room grew quieter as Ethan Grey made his entrance, perfectly timed and as imposing as ever. His sleek gray suit practically screamed power, and the cold glare he directed at Jackson could've frozen the champagne glasses.
Jackson was in the middle of chatting with the CEO of a major tech company when Ethan strode over.
"Ah, Ethan!" Jackson greeted him with exaggerated enthusiasm, clapping him on the shoulder. "Great to see you! I was just telling Mr. Patel here about how Lila and I met. It's such a cute story. You'll love it."
Ethan didn't blink. "I'm sure it's riveting."
I shot Jackson a death glare, but he was too busy enjoying Ethan's irritation.
Tensions Build
Ethan made several attempts to steer me away from Jackson throughout the night, either by inviting me to private conversations or pointedly mentioning the work he'd done to support my family. Jackson, however, intercepted every single time, acting like the world's most annoying protective husband.
At one point, Ethan gestured toward his VIP table. "Lila, why don't you join me? We can discuss the plans for your father's company."
Before I could answer, Jackson looped an arm around my waist, flashing Ethan a grin. "Thanks for the invite, but we're kind of a package deal now. Right, honey?"
I turned to Jackson, muttering through gritted teeth. "Stop calling me 'honey.'"
The Donation One-Up
Ethan, clearly frustrated, took to the stage during the gala's charity auction and announced a massive donation, one that instantly made the room applaud and murmur in admiration.
Not to be outdone, Jackson raised his paddle during the next auction item—a bizarre and outrageously expensive abstract painting.
"Ten thousand," Jackson called, leaning back in his chair.
"Jackson!" I hissed, panic rising. "Do you even have that kind of money?"
"Relax," he whispered back. "I'm great at poker."
To my horror, he won the painting.
---
The Embarrassment Peaks
As if things couldn't get worse, a socialite with a fake smile and sharper-than-average cheekbones cornered me near the dessert table.
"Lila," she cooed, her tone dripping with insincerity. "Don't you just hate these events? And marrying… well, him. That must be such a sacrifice."
Before I could respond, Jackson swooped in.
"Sacrifice?" he repeated, his tone mock-offended. "Lady, I'm a national treasure. She hit the jackpot."
The socialite blinked, taken aback.
I wanted to strangle him, but to my surprise, the woman backed off, flustered. Ethan, watching from across the room, looked like he wanted to throw a chair.
The Wine Spill Incident
The moment was ruined when Jackson, in his usual chaotic fashion, bumped into a waiter and sent a glass of red wine flying directly onto Ethan's pristine white shirt.
Ethan froze, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the stain spreading across his suit.
"Oh, man," Jackson said, his voice dripping with false remorse. "I'm just so clumsy sometimes."
I braced myself for Ethan to explode, but instead, he turned on his heel and excused himself, his movements stiff with rage.
"Why do you do these things?" I hissed at Jackson once Ethan was gone.
"Because it's fun," he said, smirking. "And let's be honest, he had it coming."
When Ethan returned, I pulled him aside, my frustration boiling over. "What is wrong with you?" I demanded. "You don't respect me. You don't respect my choices. You just—control everything!"
"You don't understand," Ethan said, his tone colder than ever. "He's making a fool of you—of us. You deserve better."
"Better? Like you? The man who couldn't even bother to show up to our wedding?"
Ethan's silence spoke volumes. I left before he could respond.
Later, I found Jackson sitting on the balcony, gazing out at the city lights. For once, he wasn't smirking or teasing—he just looked thoughtful.
"For what it's worth," he said, not looking at me, "I know I'm not the guy you imagined yourself with. But you're not half as bad at this marriage thing as you think."
I blinked, caught off guard. "That's… weirdly sweet. Are you feeling okay?"
He chuckled softly, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came.
---
The Shocking Reveal
As the night wound down, a journalist cornered us, a smug expression on their face.
"So, Mr. Carter," they said, their voice dripping with malice, "how does it feel to be the black sheep of the Carter family?"
The room went silent.
"What?" I whispered, turning to Jackson.
He laughed it off, his smile tight. "It's old news," he said breezily. "Nothing to worry about."
But the tension in his eyes told a different story.
"And just like that, my accidental husband became the talk of the town—for all the wrong reasons."