Chapter 9

Joycelyn's smile froze. She retracted her statement about him not being petty.

Ellison wanted to take her out for breakfast, but she refused, worried about being recognized. He got takeout instead.

"Don't even think about eating in the car," he warned, his perfectionism evident.

"I'll wait," she promised, hugging the paper bags despite her growing hunger. She didn't eat until they reached City Hall.

City Hall proved wonderfully efficient—twenty minutes for the paperwork, and the thin paper declared them husband and wife.

Staring at the marriage license, reality hit Joycelyn like a thunderbolt. She was Mrs. Grant. She was married, to Ellison Grant of all people.

"What about your family?" The question escaped before she could stop it.

"Just my grandmother. My parents passed away early," he replied, his matter-of-fact tone masking any emotion. "I'll take you to meet her."

His uncomplicated family structure surprised her. Much simpler than my mess, she thought with relief.

"Great. Anything I should know?" she asked carefully.

"Just convince her we're madly in love." His expression remained neutral despite the loaded request.

Thirty minutes later, they reached the hospital. She spotted a flower shop outside. "Let me get some flowers—what's her favorite? And look, there's a grocery store—"

"No need for that. Let's go straight up," he said.

"No way! Women love flowers. We need to show proper respect." Her earnestness seemed to touch him. While Ellison appeared relaxed, Joycelyn felt nervous about meeting his grandmother. After all, the elderly woman was his only family—no parents, no siblings—and he ran a huge business empire. They must be close.

"Okay, I'll park the car and meet you inside," he said, pulling up to the curb.

"I can manage on my own," she insisted, nervously adjusting her mask, anxious about being recognized.

Instead of parking, he tossed his keys to a valet and followed her, hands in his pockets, gaze coolly assessing her furtive glances around the lobby.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, moving like a guilty mouse.

"You don't know her preferences," he said, his eyes studying her with unreadable intensity.

"Oh, don't worry. No one can resist something beautiful, after all," she muttered, taking tiny steps to maintain distance. His eyes tracked her avoidance, his expression unreadable.

Passersby stared—especially young women who whispered and pointed at his striking appearance. Only his arctic aura kept them at bay.

"Here. Put this on." Joycelyn thrust an unopened mask at him. "You're too noticeable."

"Am I that embarrassing?" he asked.

"No, it's just that you're too good-looking. What happened to keeping a low profile?" Her eyes darted nervously above her mask, her anxiety obvious.

Without a word, he put on the mask. It only enhanced his attractiveness, like a movie star trying—and failing—to go incognito.

Joycelyn overheard two girls buzzing about the handsome guy.

Her head dropped, and she wished she could disappear.

Ellison shot the girls a chilly glance. His imposing presence silenced them.

"Wear a hat next time, Mr. Grant," Joycelyn pleaded. "I hate attention." She wondered if she should be covered head-to-toe next time, though they probably wouldn't be going out together much in the future anyway.

"What did you just call me?" Ellison asked, his tone serious.

Sensing his approach, she looked up. Feeling a shiver, she blinked at him. "Mr. Grant?"

His eyes narrowed, displeasure darkening his features. The depth of his gaze made her nervous.

Confused and flustered, she escaped to the flower shop. "A dozen pink carnations, please!" she told the salesperson.

Ellison watched her selection with unexpected patience. After choosing the flowers and writing a card, they went to the hospital room.

Upstairs, Isolde's face transformed at their arrival. She had been eagerly awaiting their visit, her complexion brightening.

"Hello, Grandma, I'm Joycelyn. Nice to meet you." She presented the flowers with a sweet smile. "Wishing you a swift recovery and long health."

"Oh, my dear girl!" Isolde's eyes sparkled as she examined Joycelyn's face. Despite her hospital gown, she radiated elegance.

Isolde's caregiver, Luna Morrison, arranged chairs while taking their gifts.

"Honestly, this is so sudden—I haven't prepared properly." Isolde moved to remove her emerald bracelet to give to Joycelyn.

Recognizing its immense value, Joycelyn shot Ellison a panicked look.

"Keep your favorite bracelet, Grandma. A single piece hardly suffices as our marriage gift." He smoothly presented their marriage license instead.

Isolde's face lit up as she adjusted her reading glasses.

"So this is why you refused my matchmaking! Luna, keep this safe. Looking at it several times a day will be better medicine than anything else!" She handed the document to Luna, delighted.

But what about when we divorce? Joycelyn thought anxiously, her eyes following the marriage license. She tried catching Ellison's eye, silently pleading with him to intervene, but it was too late.