The Arrogant Young Lady’s Awakening Chapter 03

The Arrogant Young Lady’s Awakening Chapter 03

I hadn’t been to the Hamptons house in a long, long time.

When the driver pulled into the garage, the sun was bleeding orange across the water.

The light pierced the floor-to-ceiling windows and washed the entire living room warm.

I pushed the door open.

The air smelled stale.

The house had been closed up too long.

The housekeeper clearly hadn’t expected me—she came scrambling out of the storage room, frantic.

“Miss, you should’ve called ahead! Let me get the place ready —”

“Don’t bother.”

I cut her off.

Slipped on house shoes.

Walked to the center of the living room.

Three years ago, this was where I had cornered him into marrying me.

He’d just flown in from London.

His luggage was still in the foyer.

I had been standing in this exact room, in a custom-made wedding gown, train pooled around my feet.

In my hands: two marriage license applications.

Already greased through expedited processing.

Every signature collected—except his.

He stood by the door, the November chill still clinging to his coat, and looked at me like I was an utterly insane person beyond reason.

“Pearl.”

He said my full name. Voice low and heavy.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Of course.” I held out the pen, smiling like the whole world owed me an answer.

“Marrying you.”

“I don’t love you.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Not for a second.

He said those four words the way one states a law of physics.

The earth orbits the sun. Water freezes at thirty-two degrees.

Adrian Sinclair does not love Pearl Langford.

God only knows how I held that smile.

“That’s fine.”

I pushed the pen another inch closer.

“I love you enough for both of us.”

“And besides—you don’t have a choice.”

He stared at me for a long, long time.

Long enough that my smile started to crack.

Long enough that the fingers gripping the pen started to tremble.

In the end, he took the pen and signed.

His handwriting was clean and beautiful. Each stroke steady.

Mine wasn’t.

I was the one shaking.

So badly I couldn’t even slide the ring on properly.

I tried twice before it fit over his knuckle.

He watched it happen and said nothing.

I didn’t ask him to put mine on for me.

I knew he didn’t want to.

I told myself it was fine. I had time.

We’d get there slowly.

Looking back now, that version of me was almost cute in her stupidity.

I had to admit it.

The failed marriage.

Those scrolling comments.

For the first time in my life, I considered the question seriously.

Should I let Adrian Sinclair go?