Zara's Pov
It was unconventional to have me wanting to maintain eye contact with someone for that long. I wanted to see the husband I would be spending my life with. His hand went to the back of his neck, and when the mask fell, a gasp of horror left my lips. "Zale Falco."
My face turned pale like I had seen a ghost. He took my hand, and I pulled away unknowingly. "I... I..." This was why. This was the reason Father had asked for both of us to get married. I knew he would never let me have the good things. The daughter of the woman who had left him would see no peace. He just gave me out to a rumored murderer, a man who was rumored to have killed his wife, because she had maybe cheated or… I do not know. But she was found dead in the pool of her own blood right in front of her husband's house, which is now my husband's.
He was the son of a multi-billionaire company, and I knew him to have a kid also. Why hadn't my father told me this? "Did you want to pull out of this marriage?" he asked, with no sign of any emotions on his face. Knowing I knew his darkest secret—no, that wasn't a secret anymore. Everyone knows about it.
My lips trembled as I tried to mutter "yes." My legs began moving backward. Even when I wasn't on heels, I felt myself stumbling, and he was swift to catch me. "You… I… yes… I want to pull out." I had forgotten about my mother on the brink of death to how selfishly I feared death too.
He suddenly let me go, and I began turning away. I had watched the way his wife's corpse was pushed and taken out of a prestigious hospital on TV, but people close by had said how they puked at the sight of the corpse. I really can't. As I turned backward, ready to turn on my heels—
"Your sick mother," I heard him say, and I stopped like I was hit by a great stone. "You back off now; you become more miserable than you are."
How did he know about my mom? I turned back to meet his gaze, tears streaming down my eyes, and I bet he couldn't see me through my veil except from the sniffing sound that I made. "How about that?" He raised his well-arched brow questioningly, and I swear I saw the devil, not a man. He emanated this kind of aura I had yet to lay my hand on, my body shaking with terror and fear. It was too late. I had gotten myself into the unknown.
"I am sorry for behaving that way… It… it came as a shock." He held his hand out from where he stood, urging me to come take it. And I moved closer, taking that hand that everyone knew had murdered a woman. I was angry at my father, crazy emotions overwhelming me until I realized it was my wedding day, and I would be consummating with him. Every bride does, and I felt a grim reaper inching close, ready to stop all his disasters from happening.
We made our way to the large mansion, and what greeted us in the large room was the right people dancing already. Drinks, food, and cheers filled the air. And I saw the family everyone envied to be with—until their son killed his wife.
"Daddy!" An excited voice of a child sounded off in the room, bringing everyone's gaze to us, and a petite little girl came running—the daughter of Gracie Falco. His daughter, who automatically became my stepdaughter.
Her father crouched immediately, taking the little girl, who looked about age six, in his arms. "I missed you, Daddy!" She buried her head in the crook of his neck, her long wavy blonde hair falling down to her father's back, and I felt a soft spot for the kid immediately as her father patted her back lightly. "I missed you too, my little butterfly," he said, not behaving like the cold man standing in front of me earlier.
Some people who had been dancing earlier, some walking up to us. Zale stood up with his daughter in his arms. "Congratulations, son." An older-looking man, the man I recognized to be the older master of the Zale, smiled at his grandson, who returned a stiff smile before he looked at me. "I would love to see your bride, son." Zale put the little girl down as he came to stand in front of me. And yes, he was going to see the ugly wife he was lucky to marry. Seems to me dying would be faster. He pulled the veil off me, and I closed my eyes, releasing a breathy sigh before opening them and smiling at the old man who gave me a sweet smile in front of me, opening his arms for a hug "So beautiful." The older man complimented it and I thought it was all too fake for being his son's
"Realmente muy hermosa." Another language entirely popped up until I remembered the Falco's being slightly Spanish.
"Welcome to this big family. Zale had said a lot about you, but was not willing to tell us your name." I chuckled lightly, and just like every group I had stayed in, I heard light murmuring even with the music. Slight talks about me and Mom affected me more than anything.
"Isn't that Zoe? The model Zoe."
Are they blind to see I wasn't the popular model Zoe? I was just her doppelgänger, the ugly one. The poor lady who works at a restaurant—not even the five-star I had always dreamed of working in, when Zoe could buy multiple of it.
"I am Zara, sir." I took his hand instead of hugging him.
"Do you really love my son?" he whispered, and I bit my lips before nodding, knowing he had asked me to fake everything, fake that we were lovers.
"It's time for the couples to dance, and we can leave them to have a wonderful night," a feminine voice announced from around the room.
"Daddy, is she the one who would have little baby?" the little girl asked her dad innocently, and I wondered what he had been telling her.
"We will talk about this later, little butterfly." I heard behind me before his hand went around my waist, guiding me to the dance floor. My body was stiff as a rock before he slammed me without warning into his chest.
"Ease up, Zara." My name rolled out of his lips in a way that made me shudder as our bodies began to move with the tunes of the music. He swayed me around, only bringing me dizziness as I stumbled back on his feet. "I am sorry." He let out a hum, and the dance was over between us. I was glad because it felt like a gun was held to my head. Men I had seen on the web came dancing with me—his other five brothers, his father, grandfather, and some male friends—all trying to start a conversation with me. And as the dance ended, it was time. Time for the reason that made my heart palpitate wildly.
"Daddy, I want to go with you."
"Daddy and Mummy need to have a good time. You sure do want little babies, don't you, sweetheart?" Older Mr. Falco came towards the little girl, who stayed glued to her father the whole time like a sticker. The old man, with great energy, pushed her into his arms, swaying her around as she burst into a fit of wild chuckles.
Without saying a word, I followed behind my husband as I almost peed in my pants out of fear of someone seeing my body for the first time—not just anybody, but Zale Falco. I had a boyfriend, Wallace, but no, we haven't gone further than kissing and eating in the restaurant I worked in for the three months we have been together.
We got into a room, rose petals trapped on the beautiful pink sheets, candles lighting the room instead.
"We have to talk." He let go of my hand before walking to the large mirror in the room, taking the file which lay on it.
"This is the real contract. The marriage we had was just to please your family and mine. Mine especially, because your father was just someone who made a bargain with me… It was supposed to be a contract marriage." He handed me the file. "Open it and read my rules."
I gulped, taking it. I pulled the paper from the file and saw the wording written on it: The Party A and Party B type.
"To make things snappy, I need an heir…" he continued talking as I went through the papers. "For my family and for my daughter. She wanted a boy, and Father wanted a boy also and a woman for me so he could give me my rightful position in the company."
" You would get more offer, an estate to your name in any country you want to stay, I'd also give you any amount you want just to stay away from this family after you have my heir."
Just what he had said was written in the paper alongside other rules:
Never yearn for your husband's love.
Never ask for more than he is supposed to give.
Be ready anytime he is ready to plant his seed for an heir. This last rule had a nervous euphoria wreck through me.
"What if I end up not birthing an heir… a son?" I was happy he would let me go, but what was it with having an heir? I have never had a fairytale built up of me leaving my child…instead the man excuses himself, and I become a single mom.
"Then you'd stay until you have one. Your father promised you to me."
Father didn't. It was bad for you not to know the brief you were marrying. Father had promised Zara to you, not me. I heard—this had been set down five months ago until Father saw me as his bait.
"We should start the preparation for a child tonight."