Chapter 2 - The Bride of a Sleeping Billionaire
The Thornton estate didn't look like a home.
It looked like a place governments might use for private negotiations.
The car passed through iron gates and followed a long road lined with carefully trimmed trees. Beyond them stood an enormous stone mansion overlooking the countryside.
I stared through the window.
Yesterday, I had taken a bus to work.
Today, I was being driven onto a billionaire's estate to marry a man in a coma.
Nothing about my life felt real anymore.
Claire met me at the entrance.
"You can still walk away," she said.
I studied her.
"Can my mother?"
Claire understood.
"No."
"Then neither can I."
She led me upstairs.
The private medical suite had been built into one wing of the estate after Ethan's accident.
There were nurses.
Specialists.
Monitoring equipment.
Everything a hospital intensive-care room might contain, except the walls were polished wood and the windows overlooked the city skyline.
Then I saw him.
Ethan Thornton.
For months, I'd seen photographs of him online.
Standing beside private jets.
Walking into shareholder meetings.
Speaking at conferences.
In those pictures, Ethan looked untouchable.
The man lying in the bed looked nothing like that.
He was pale.
His dark hair had grown slightly longer.
Light stubble covered his jaw.
Electrodes crossed his chest.
A white blanket covered him from the waist down.
He looked vulnerable.
Painfully human.
I stopped walking.
Claire noticed.
"Are you all right?"
"That's him?"
"Yes."
I almost laughed at myself.
Of course it was him.
But seeing a person was different from seeing a headline.
"What happened to him?"
"Car accident."
"I know that. I mean what happened?"
Claire's expression closed.
"You don't need those details."
That answer stayed with me.
A stylist brought me into another room.
The wedding dress was already waiting.
Ivory lace.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Probably worth more than everything I owned.
"No," I said.
Claire frowned.
"What?"
"I don't need that."
"The photograph requires—"
"I know what the photograph requires."
I looked at the dress.
"Does his father really need the whole fantasy?"
Claire lowered her voice.
"Gregory needs the marriage to withstand scrutiny."
There it was again.
Not love.
Not family.
Not Ethan.
Control.
I changed into the dress.
When I looked into the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
My blonde hair had been arranged in a loose updo.
The gown fit perfectly.
I looked like a bride.
But there was no happiness in my face.
Only fear.
When I returned to Ethan's room, Gregory Thornton was waiting.
He was tall, silver-haired, and dressed in a dark suit.
He looked exactly like the kind of man who had never heard the word no unless it came from another billionaire.
"Natalie Brooks."
"Mr. Thornton."
He extended his hand.
I shook it.
"Your mother has been transferred to the surgical team's priority schedule," he said.
My breath caught.
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
I stared at him.
"You already arranged it?"
"I keep my promises."
I glanced toward Ethan.
"Even when your son can't make any?"
Gregory's jaw tightened.
Claire stepped between us conversationally.
"The attorneys are ready."
The ceremony lasted less than fifteen minutes.
No music.
No guests smiling.
No flowers except an arrangement already sitting near the window.
Two lawyers stood beside the bed.
A medical representative observed.
Claire remained near the door.
Gregory watched everything.
The documents were placed before me.
I read the important sections again.
Marriage.
Confidentiality.
Financial compensation.
Medical expenses.
Limitations.
If Ethan recovered, certain terms would be reviewed.
That sentence made my stomach tighten.
"If he wakes up," I asked, "what happens?"
One lawyer adjusted his glasses.
"The marriage remains legally recognized until either party pursues dissolution under applicable law."
"So he could divorce me."
"Yes."
"Immediately?"
"Potentially."
I almost smiled.
"Good."
Gregory looked at me.
"Good?"
"If he wakes up and hates this, he should be allowed to end it."
For the first time, something flickered across Gregory's face.
Not anger.
Concern.
I signed.
Natalie Brooks.
Then another line.
Natalie Brooks Thornton.
Seeing the name made my skin prickle.
One of the lawyers completed the final formalities.
Then everyone became strangely quiet.
I knew why.
Gregory spoke.
"The photograph."
My hands went cold.
I approached the bed.
Ethan didn't move.
The photographer stood discreetly near the window.
I looked down at Ethan.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
The room was silent enough that everyone heard.
I didn't care.
"I know you didn't ask for this."
Gregory shifted impatiently.
I leaned closer.
Ethan's face was inches from mine.
For one irrational second, I wondered whether unconscious people could somehow understand when someone spoke to them.
"I'm doing this for my mom," I whispered.
Then I kissed him.
Gently.
Barely more than a touch.
One second.
Nothing happened.
I began to pull away.
Something touched my wrist.
I froze.
At first, I thought my bracelet had caught on the blanket.
Then I looked down.
Ethan's fingers were moving.
Slowly.
Weakly.
But unmistakably.
His fingertips curled against my wrist.
The heart monitor changed.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Faster.
The nurse turned.
Claire's hand flew toward her mouth.
Gregory stepped forward.
"What happened?"
I couldn't answer.
"Ethan?"
His fingers moved again.
I stared at his face.
His eyelids trembled.
Once.
Then stopped.
The nurse moved beside him.
"Mr. Thornton?"
Another flutter.
Gregory's face went white.
"Ethan."
His son's eyelids opened.
Only slightly at first.
His gaze was unfocused.
The nurse checked his pupils.
"Ethan, can you hear me?"
He blinked.
His eyes moved slowly.
Toward the ceiling.
Toward the nurse.
Toward Gregory.
Then toward me.
I was still leaning over him in a wedding dress.
Our hands were touching.
His gaze stopped.
He stared directly at me.
Confusion filled his face.
His lips moved.
No sound came out.
"Don't try to speak," the nurse said.
But Ethan tried again.
This time, I heard it.
One word.
"Who...?"
My heart pounded.
Gregory stepped closer.
"Son, you've been in an accident."
Ethan barely looked at him.
He kept staring at me.
Then his eyes dropped.
To my dress.
To our hands.
Back to my face.
His brow tightened.
"Who..."
His voice cracked.
"...are you?"
Nobody answered.
I slowly removed my hand from his.
"My name is Natalie."
His eyes stayed on mine.
The nurse called for the physician.
People began moving everywhere.
Gregory ordered the photographer out.
Claire gathered documents.
A doctor rushed into the room.
I stepped backward until I reached the wall.
Ethan was awake.
That was impossible.
The entire arrangement had been built around the assumption that he wouldn't be.
Gregory approached me.
"You need to leave."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Now."
"But—"
"Claire will take you home."
I looked toward Ethan.
He was weak, confused, surrounded by medical staff.
Yet somehow his eyes found me again.
Then he noticed something on the table.
The marriage documents.
His expression changed.
He lifted one trembling hand and pointed.
"What... is that?"
No one answered quickly enough.
His eyes moved to me.
To my dress.
To Gregory.
Then back to the papers.
And despite months of unconsciousness, Ethan Thornton understood enough to ask the question everyone in the room feared.
May you like
"Did you marry me?"
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