Chapter 9: A Quick Marriage

Alistair answered the phone with obvious irritation. “What?” The caller, startled by his tone, responded timidly, “Hello, Alistair.” The voice wasn't Rebecca's.

“Who is this?” Alistair asked, confused.

“It’s Vivienne,” she replied with a light laugh. “We’ve met before.”

Alistair immediately placed her. Vivienne was one of Rebecca’s best friends. Rebecca had two close friends—Anne and Vivienne. Anne was… well, he didn’t really want to talk about her. But Vivienne was different. She was cut from a completely different cloth than Rebecca and Anne; she had decent values. Alistair still remembered how she’d come to his defense once when Rebecca was giving him a hard time.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked cautiously. If she was calling about Rebecca, he’d hang up immediately and block her number.

It occurred to Alistair that if he really wanted to cut ties with Rebecca completely, he should change his phone number. He’d do that first thing after getting out of bed.

“Well,” Vivienne said, sounding embarrassed, “I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

Nothing could have prepared Alistair for her request—she wanted him to come over and cook a meal at her place. Her mother, Miranda Everett, had undergone surgery to remove uterine fibroids. During a visit, Rebecca had brought some chicken noodle soup. Miranda, who’d had no appetite since the surgery, suddenly found herself hungry again. She couldn’t stop talking about it afterward, claiming it was the best chicken noodle soup she’d ever tasted and that it reminded her of childhood. However, it was actually Alistair who had made the soup. Though Miranda couldn’t stop thinking about it, she felt too awkward to ask for more.

Tomorrow was Miranda’s birthday, and Vivienne suddenly thought of that chicken noodle soup while brainstorming unique gift ideas. Worried he might refuse, she quickly added, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect you to do this for nothing. I’ll pay you. How about 100 thousand dollars to make one dinner?”

As a wealthy heiress, Vivienne didn’t think twice about spending 100 thousand dollars just so her mother could taste the soup she craved.

Getting paid that much for cooking one meal was clearly a sweet deal for Alistair, though money wasn’t exactly tight for him these days. Since becoming the female CEO’s kept man, his monthly allowance had reached one million dollars. To put it bluntly, even if he wanted to be poor again, he probably couldn’t manage it. During his six years with Rebecca, the only skill he’d truly developed was his increasingly impressive cooking.

Alistair considered the request carefully. If anyone else had asked, he would have flat-out refused. But this was Vivienne, someone who had shown him kindness and even defended him when Rebecca had given him a hard time. He wasn’t the type to leave debts unpaid. Besides, her request wasn’t unreasonable.

“Your ex-wife’s best friend has made a request. How will you respond?”

“Option one: She’s Rebecca’s friend. To avoid unnecessary complications, make up an excuse and decline.”

“Option two: Rebecca is Rebecca, and Vivienne is Vivienne. You won’t deliberately distance yourself from someone who means you no harm just because you’re keeping your distance from Rebecca.”

“Choose option one for 50 system credits. Choose option two for 50 system credits.”

Alistair was speechless. For once, the system had set up equally balanced options.

“I’m sorry, but I need to think about this,” Alistair said.

Vivienne was just grateful he hadn’t immediately turned her down. “No problem!” Alistair had just divorced Rebecca, and since Vivienne was so close to her, she wouldn’t have bothered him if she wasn’t trying to prepare a special gift for her mother. Of course, beyond helping her mother, Vivienne, the kind-hearted girl, secretly wanted to give Alistair a hand. Through Anne’s relentless gossip yesterday, she’d learned that Alistair had walked away from the divorce without a penny to his name. When she worried about how Alistair would make ends meet, Rebecca callously replied that it wasn’t her concern anymore. “If a grown man manages to starve himself to death,” Rebecca had added, “that just proves how pathetic and useless he is!”

A hundred thousand dollars was pocket change for wealthy heiresses like Vivienne—just another dinner out with friends—but it could make a huge difference for Alistair.

Before making the call, Vivienne had worried that Alistair’s pride might be hurt. After talking to him, she realized she was the one overthinking things. He sounded perfectly normal, which put her mind at ease.

Alistair got up from his oversized bed, took a shower, and finished breakfast. Right on schedule, he went downstairs to find a Maybach waiting at the curb. Caroline sat in the back seat, gesturing for him to join her. He slid in beside her. “Did you get here early?”

Caroline closed her laptop. “No, just arrived. Your timing is perfect.”

They drove to City Hall in silence. Good old City Hall! Getting married was supposed to be a sacred, beautiful moment. But for Alistair, the whole thing felt like some kind of joke. He was divorced yesterday and married today, like children playing house. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.

The funniest part was that the woman processing their marriage certificate was the exact same lady who had handled his divorce from Rebecca just yesterday. Her eyes lit up when she saw Caroline. “Well, aren’t you a pretty young girl!”

The appreciation of beauty was universal. Women were just as quick to notice a gorgeous face as any man. The clerk instinctively glanced at the man standing beside Caroline. “Young man, your wife is absolutely gorgeous. You’re so… lucky.” Her voice trailed off as recognition dawned on her face.

Alistair smiled politely, “Thank you.”

The clerk stared at his face in shock. She was sure her eyesight wasn’t failing her, and at barely forty, her memory was still sharp. So why did I feel like I’d seen this young man just yesterday? And filing for divorce, no less? The reason she remembered so clearly was because Alistair and Rebecca had made such a striking couple. They were both gorgeous and definitely a perfect match. When they’d come in to file for divorce, she’d silently lamented what a shame it was. They were such a beautiful pair. Why couldn’t they make it work? Young people these days… And here she was thinking the same thing again.

Though she had to admit, this guy had good taste in women. Today’s girl was even prettier than yesterday’s, with a classier vibe too.

Once they had the marriage certificate, Alistair stared at their photo, bewildered. Second marriage, just like that? The universe really has a weird sense of humor.

“Are you done admiring it?” Caroline snatched the certificate from his hand before he could answer. Alistair wanted to point out that she had her own copy, but kept quiet. Caroline stacked both certificates together and tucked them into her purse. “I’ll keep these safe.”

Alistair couldn’t argue with that. They walked out of City Hall together.

“I need to head to the office,” she said. “You can go back to the hotel for now. I’ll pick you up after work and take you home.” Alistair’s foot landed on the last step when her words stopped him.

Caroline turned, giving him a puzzled look.

He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat when she casually mentioned taking him home. Since his grandfather died, the concept of “home” had disappeared from Alistair’s world. Even after he’d “made a home” with Rebecca, it had never really been his, just hers. At best, it had been nothing more than a cage that trapped him.

Caroline walked ahead, her ponytail catching the bright sunlight, which bathed it in a golden glow. Suddenly, Alistair found himself looking forward to this new marriage with unexpected hope.

“Ms. Ashbourne…” he called out.

“Still calling me Ms. Ashbourne?” Her tone was light, without any real criticism behind it.

Alistair corrected himself. “Carol?”

It felt strange calling her by name for the first time.

The corner of Caroline’s mouth twitched upward slightly. “That works too.”

What does she mean by that? What else would she want me to call her—“honey”?

Alistair knew he couldn’t bring himself to use that word. They might technically be husband and wife now, but neither needed to be reminded why two strangers had suddenly rushed into marriage.

“What were you going to tell me earlier?” she asked.

“Oh right—I have something to take care of tomorrow at noon.”

“Will you be back home for dinner?”

“Yes, I should be back by afternoon if everything goes smoothly.”

Caroline’s eyes crinkled slightly. “Then go ahead.”