KIMANI

The garden erupted into a low hum of disbelief, like bees disturbed from their hive.

“I will claim her.”

Those four words seemed to echo endlessly, leaving me stunned, rooted to the spot. I blinked, convinced I had imagined them, but when I turned, there he was, Alaric Walker.

The Alaric Walker.

Even through the blur of my tears, I recognized him instantly. He was taller in person, his presence overwhelming. Power clung to him like a second skin, making the air around him feel charged. He wasn’t just a man-he was a storm, walking straight toward me with deliberate steps.

“Do you trust me, Kimani?” His deep voice reached me again, softer this time, coaxing, as if it were just us two in the garden.

I couldn’t answer. My mouth opened and closed uselessly. My chest tightened, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“Kimani…” My father’s voice broke through, shaky and uncertain. I turned to see him staring at Alaric, eyes wide with shock. “Do you… know him?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, Papa. I’ve never even spoken to him before today.”

Zendaya stepped closer, clutching my arm. “Wait, wait, you’ve never met him? And he’s asking to marry you here? Just like that?” Her voice trembled.

Malik’s eyes darted between me and Alaric, his usual flamboyance gone. “Babe, this is crazy. You don’t even know him. Are you sure you want this?”

Denise whispered harshly, “Everyone’s watching. If you say yes, your whole life changes. If you say no…” Her eyes flickered toward the guests still whispering cruel things about me. “They’ll keep laughing.”

I swallowed hard, my throat raw. My chest heaved as I stared at Alaric’s hand, still extended, steady, patient. He didn’t look nervous. He didn’t look like a man making an impulsive decision. He looked… certain.

“Kimani.” My father’s voice cracked again. His eyes were full of pain and helplessness. “I just want you to be safe. If this is too much, we can walk away.”

But walking away meant leaving here humiliated, broken, and pitied forever. Jason’s betrayal would follow me. My name would be dragged through the mud before the night was over.

Alaric’s eyes locked onto mine, unreadable, but strangely… grounding. For the first time since the scandal erupted, I felt like I wasn’t drowning.

I took a shaky breath. My voice trembled as I whispered, “Yes.”

Gasps exploded all around us.

Alaric’s lips curved-not into a smile, but into something firm, assured. He clasped my hand, warm and solid, and turned to the officiant. “Continue the ceremony.”

The officiant sputtered, glancing nervously between us, then at my father. Papa’s shoulders sagged, but when his gaze landed on me—pleading, trembling—I nodded slightly. His jaw tightened, and he gave a small, reluctant nod.

And just like that… the ceremony went on.

“Do you, Alaric Walker, take Kimani—”

“I do,” Alaric answered without hesitation, his voice ringing clear.

The officiant turned to me. My legs wobbled, but Alaric’s hand squeezed mine, steadying me.

“Do you, Kimani, take Alaric Walker…”

My breath shuddered, but I managed to say, “I do.”

The crowd erupted again, some in disbelief, others whispering furiously. I don't blame them, this is probably the most intriguing wedding of the decade.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant said, almost nervously.

Alaric stepped closer, towering over me. His dark gaze never wavered as he lowered his head. My lips parted in shock when his mouth brushed mine—brief, firm, but sealing a vow that had changed everything.

In one day, I lost my groom. And gained a husband I had never met.

The wedding ceremony was over. Now, I was actually glad I hadn’t planned a huge reception, because there was no way I could sit in a room full of people, smiling, while they whispered about the bride abandoned and reclaimed in the same hour.

Papa insisted on walking me back down the aisle, though this time my arm was linked not with Jason’s… but with Alaric’s. The contrast was startling. Jason had always held me like I might slip away at any second, as if commitment weighed him down. But Alaric’s grip was firm, grounding, commanding without being suffocating.

Every step felt like walking through fire. Heads craned. Phones clicked. Whispers followed us like shadows.

“She married him?”

“Of all people… Alaric Walker?”

“Do you think it’s a publicity stunt?”

I wanted to disappear, but Alaric walked tall beside me, completely unfazed, his expression carved in stone. He didn’t flinch at the gossip. Didn’t look around. Didn’t even blink. For a second, I wondered if he had staged this, if this entire thing was part of some secret plan.

When we reached the end of the aisle, Papa pulled me into a tight hug. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Be careful, my princess. You don’t know him.”

I swallowed hard. “I know, Papa.”

He stepped back reluctantly, his face etched with worry, then turned his sharp gaze to Alaric. “Take care of her,” he said firmly, almost like a warning.

Alaric inclined his head once. “Always.”

And just like that, my father let me go.

The ride away from the ceremony was silent at first. The limo door closed, shutting out the crowd, and suddenly it was just the two of us. Me in my wedding gown, veil slipping, mascara smudged from tears. Him, flawless in his suit, watching me with unreadable eyes.

I fiddled with my hands in my lap, the silence pressing down on me. “Why… why did you do it?” I finally blurted, my voice cracking.

Alaric leaned back, his gaze steady. “Because you didn’t deserve what he did to you. And because you needed saving.”

My chest tightened. “You don’t even know me.”

“True.” His lips curved slightly, it was not a smile, but something close. “But I know weakness when I see it. Jason showed the world he was weak. I won’t let them think the same of you.”

I blinked at him, speechless. Saving my dignity? Protecting me from humiliation? Who did that in this world especially someone like him?

The car rolled to a stop. I glanced out the window, expecting a huge mansion, it was actually bigger than I expected that I held my breath.

The Walker estate loomed ahead. Massive. Secluded. Gilded gates opened slowly, and the limo drove inside.

Panic spiked through me. “Wait, are we… going there?”

Alaric turned his gaze back to me, calm, final. “You’re my wife now, Kimani. This is your home.”

My stomach dropped. My mind spun. Just hours ago, I was planning a honeymoon with Jason. Now, I was being driven into the fortress of a man I had never met until today.

And for the first time since the wedding, the weight of what I had done crashed into me.

I was Mrs. Alaric Walker.

The car came to a stop and Alaric stepped out first. I expected him to keep on walking but he turned around and bent, carrying me out of the car. "You don't have to carry me." I told him.

"I know of a tradition where you have to carry your newly-wedded wife over the threshold of the house." he replied and kept on walking.

He carried me as though I weighed nothing, his stride confident, unhurried. My arms instinctively clutched his shoulders, the solid strength of him both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

The Walker estate was even more imposing up close, arched windows, marble pillars, and carved iron doors that looked like they belonged in a palace rather than a home. The staff lined the entrance, silent and composed, though their eyes widened ever so slightly as their employer strode past them with a bride in his arms.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. They all knew this wasn’t planned. They all knew I was not supposed to be here.

When Alaric finally crossed the threshold, he paused briefly, his voice calm but commanding as he addressed the butler who had hurried forward.

“Prepare the east wing for Mrs. Walker.”

The title jolted me like a slap. Mrs. Walker. That was me now.

The butler bowed quickly. “At once, sir.”

Alaric continued walking, his expression unreadable as he carried me through grand hallways lined with chandeliers and oil paintings of ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow me. My nerves spiked.

“You can put me down now,” I whispered, my voice small in the cavernous silence.

He glanced down at me briefly, and for the first time, I thought I saw the faintest flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “You’re not a burden, Kimani. You’ll learn that I don’t do things halfway.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. Every word from him felt deliberate, weighted. He didn’t just say things—he declared them.

At last, we reached a set of double doors. He pushed them open with one hand, still holding me effortlessly, and stepped inside a room so vast it could have been a hotel suite.

He finally set me down on my feet. My legs wobbled a little, and I steadied myself by gripping the edge of a velvet armchair.

“This will be your room,” he said simply, his tone final, as though no argument could exist. “If you need anything, the staff will attend to you. You’ll have privacy here.”

I stared at him, confused. “So… we’re not…?” My cheeks burned as I stumbled over the words.

His gaze sharpened, reading me too easily. “You’re my wife, Kimani. But I’m not Jason.” His voice lowered, cool and certain. “I won’t take what isn’t freely given.”

Relief rushed through me so strongly I almost sagged into the chair. At least he wasn’t expecting me to… to perform as his wife tonight.

Still, questions clawed at me, too many to hold in. “Why me? Out of everyone—you don’t even know me. Why would a man like you do something like this?”

He studied me for a long moment, his silence heavier than words. Finally, he said, “Because sometimes, one choice defines everything. I made mine today.”

And with that, he turned toward the door.

Panic fluttered in my chest. He was just going to leave me here? In this castle of strangers?

“Alaric!” I called impulsively.

He paused at the doorway, his tall frame framed by the golden light of the hall.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

For a heartbeat, something softened in his expression, almost imperceptible. Then he inclined his head once, firmly, before disappearing into the hallway.

The doors shut with a quiet click, and I was left alone in a world that wasn’t mine, wearing a gown that no longer felt like it belonged to me.

In less than a day, I had gone from bride-to-be to abandoned… to wife of the most powerful man in the city.

And I had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

KIMANI

After Alaric left, I sat frozen, staring at the door he had disappeared through. My mind spun like a broken record, replaying his words, his eyes, the finality of what had just happened. Married. To him. My wedding day turned into… this.

I pressed my palms against the silky fabric of my dress, grounding myself, though my heart still raced. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, or even how to feel. A mix of betrayal, confusion, and disbelief settled in my chest like a heavy stone.

A soft knock came at the door, polite, careful, almost as if whoever was outside knew I was standing at the edge of breaking.

“Come in,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

The door creaked open and a maid slipped inside. She carried a familiar travel bag, one I had used countless times when visiting my father. She set it gently on the couch and gave a slight bow before leaving without a word.

I blinked at the bag. Did Alaric ask someone to collect it from my dad? That is quite thoughtful of him.

I unzipped the bag. Inside were neatly folded clothes, toiletries, and at the very top, my cell phone. I grabbed it like a lifeline, holding it to my chest for a moment before powering it on.

My group chat with Malik, Zendaya and Denise was blowing up. Even though it was just the three of them sending messages, it was so much.

I opened the message box with my dad first.

K - Hi, dad.

P(Papa) - Princess, how are you?

K - I'm breathing.

P - Sweetheart, I'm sorry about Jason.

K - Me too. I'm glad the truth came out before I went all the way.

P - How are you doing right now? With Mr Walker

K - Okay. He just showed me to my room and left me alone.

P - Princess, are you sure you haven't spoken to him before today?

K - No, papa. I'm just as shocked as you are.

P - Let me leave you to freshen up and relax. Talk later.

K - Okay, papa.

After my dad, I finally opened the group chat. My screen lit up with what felt like a hundred messages, each one typed with the urgency only my best friends could bring.

Malik: Babyyy, what the actual hell just happened?!

Zendaya: Kimani, don’t play with us. Did you KNOW Alaric Walker before today?

Denise: Girl, blink twice if you’re being held against your will. I’ll bring my cousins.

I snorted despite myself. My heart was still a mess, but leave it to them to pull out the drama.

K: No, I swear. Today was literally the first time I’ve spoken to him.

Malik: You expect us to believe you got snatched up at the altar like some N*****x special and you didn’t know him before?

Zendaya: Exactly. Why would the billionaire bachelor suddenly decide marriage was the move, today of all days?

Denise: Hold up. Is this a marriage or like… a temporary hostage arrangement?

I laughed out loud, the sound startling in the quiet room. A little weight lifted off my chest, even if it was only for a moment.

K: Guys, relax. I’m okay. Shocked, confused, borderline dizzy, but okay.

Malik: “Okay”? Kimani, you literally just married a man you met THIS MORNING.

Zendaya: Bestie, no offense but… what if he’s a vampire? This has romance novel energy.

Denise: No, vampire would be cute. This has more… mafia vibes. Like, “marry me or else.”

I pressed a hand to my mouth to muffle the giggle that escaped. “You guys are insane,” I whispered.

K: I promise, he didn’t force me. He was calm, polite even. He showed me to this huge fancy room and left me alone.

Malik: Polite kidnappers exist, babe.

Zendaya: We just want to know the WHY. Why you? Why now?

Denise: Also, he’s hot. I think our suffering is worth it.

I hesitated, cheeks warming as my mind flashed to Alaric’s dark eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the effortless command in the way he spoke. He was… a lot.

K: He’s… decent.

Malik: Girl. DECENT?! That man is on magazine covers. He looks like trouble dipped in chocolate.

Zendaya: Agreed.

Denise: Great. Then the only problem left is you not knowing why your brand-new husband picked you out of billions of women.

I sighed, typing slowly.

K: I don’t know why, but I’ll figure it out. Right now, I just need to breathe.

Malik: Fine. But keep us updated every five minutes.

Zendaya: We love you, pookie.

Denise: And if he breaks your heart, I’m keying his car. Or you can get his credit card and we will max it out.

Their banter drew another laugh from me, a real one this time. My world had turned upside down in the span of a day, but at least some things like my friends’ madness remained the same.

I dropped my phone on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. For the first time since Alaric had walked out, I felt like maybe I could actually breathe.

I stood up and began to take off the wedding dress. Then

I slipped into one of the soft silk robes I found neatly folded at the edge of the bed, definitely not mine. The fabric glided over my skin, cool and impossibly smooth, like something out of a boutique I couldn’t even afford to step into. The robe smelled faintly of lavender and something crisp, expensive.

Freshening up helped, but when I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I almost laughed. My hair was pinned half in, half out, mascara shadows smudged under my eyes, my lips bare. This wasn’t the picture of a newlywed bride. It was the picture of a girl who’d been tossed into a storm she never asked for. I walked into the shower and cleaned up, finally clean I walked back to the room.

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. Before I could respond, the door opened, and two maids wheeled in a gleaming silver trolley. My eyes widened. There were trays upon trays of food - grilled salmon, roasted chicken, bowls of pasta, a fresh salad bursting with color, little plates of delicate desserts. My stomach, which had been too knotted all day to even think of food, growled loudly at the sight.

One of the maids gave a small smile and handed me a folded card. “From Mr. Walker, ma’am,” she said softly before they both curtsied and left as quickly as they had come.

I blinked, staring down at the card. My fingers fumbled with the neat fold before opening it.

The handwriting was sharp, precise, and somehow matched him perfectly:

Tell the staff your preferences and any allergies. You won’t need to eat what doesn’t suit you. – A.

I sat heavily on the bed, the card trembling between my fingers. He had thought of this? Thought about what I would eat, what I wouldn’t, what could hurt me? The man who’d barely spoken ten sentences to me had already considered more than Jason had in years.

Jason.

The thought of him made my chest tighten again. He hadn’t even cared if I’d eaten on our dates. Half the time, I had been the one making sure he was comfortable, fed, satisfied. Yet here was Alaric Walker, cold, unreadable, stranger, sending me a literal buffet and making sure I wouldn’t have to explain myself.

I pressed my lips together, pushing the thought away, but a strange warmth unfurled in my chest.

Pulling the trolley closer, I reached for a fork. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I knew one thing: I was starving.

I sampled a little of everything, the flavors rich and comforting. By the time I set the fork down, I realized how much calmer I felt, understandable, I love eating anyway.

Leaning back against the pillows, I let out a slow breath.

Married. To Alaric Walker.

Stills feels like a funny dream but I know that it's not.

KIMANI

It was already evening. I thought someone was going to bring me my meal like they did this afternoon. Instead, I got invited to the dining room. I changed into something better and followed the lady out,as we walked, I tried to make conversation. "What's your name?" I asked her. "Danielle, Mrs Walker." She replied. "Please, call me Kimani, that makes me feel like I'm some Richie rich lady." I told her. She only nodded, I hope she does.

The dining room was nothing short of breathtaking. Golden chandeliers hung low, their light bouncing off polished marble floors and the glossy mahogany table that seemed to stretch endlessly. A table that could easily seat a dozen people but tonight, only two places were set.

My sandals clicked softly against the floor as I made my way to the chair on the right side of the one at the head. The seat at the head was already occupied.

Alaric sat there, poised, his posture relaxed but commanding. His phone was in his hand, his sharp gaze fixed on the screen, as though the world outside me required his attention more than anything else.

I slid into my chair, my hands folding nervously in my lap. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the quiet tap of his thumb against the screen.

Then, as if sensing my unease, he placed the phone face down beside his plate. The action was subtle but deliberate—like he was telling me, you have my attention now.

Immediately, the maids stepped forward in seamless coordination, uncovering silver domes and serving dishes. Steam and rich aromas filled the air—seared steak, buttered vegetables, creamy pasta, roasted potatoes. My stomach tightened with a mix of hunger and nerves.

One of the maids leaned toward me with a polite bow. “What would you prefer tonight, ma’am?”

I blinked at the sheer variety, pointing carefully at a few things. “The pasta… and some of the vegetables, and a little of the potatoes please. Oh, and just a little chicken.”

She nodded, piling the food gracefully onto my plate before stepping back.

Once both our plates were served, silence lingered between us for a few bites. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it wasn’t easy either. The sound of cutlery against china echoed in the vast room.

Then, his voice came—low, calm, steady. “What do you want to do, Kimani?”

I froze, my fork pausing halfway to my lips. His gaze was on me now, unwavering, the kind of look that stripped away every excuse or deflection.

“What do I… want to do?” I repeated slowly.

“Yes,” he said, his tone unreadable. “With your time. With yourself. You’re not bound by anything here. Not by me.”

I exhaled, setting my fork down. “Honestly? I hadn’t thought about it. I was supposed to be on a honeymoon for the next three weeks.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My lips twisted with irony. “But obviously, that’s not happening anymore.”

His expression didn’t change much, but I caught the faintest flicker in his eyes. Maybe pity. Maybe understanding.

“I’m on break,” I continued more softly. “Three weeks off work. I don’t even know what to do with myself now.”

He leaned back in his chair, regarding me carefully. “Then you’ll rest. And when you decide what you want to do with your days, tell me. I’ll make the arrangements.”

The casual certainty in his words made my pulse skip. He said it like there were no limits, like anything I wanted could be done if I only asked.

I toyed with a bite of pasta, chewing slowly, my thoughts churning. Alaric’s calmness made it impossible to read him, yet it also made me… braver somehow.

Finally, I set my fork down and lifted my gaze to him. “If I’m going to be your wife, even if it’s sudden and unconventional, shouldn’t I at least know you a little?”

One dark brow lifted slightly. “Know me how?”

I tilted my head, shrugging lightly. “Your favorite color. The food you like. Something as simple as that. Right now, you’re still a mystery. And I hate not knowing.”

His lips twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “Most people prefer the mystery.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” I shot back before I could stop myself. The words came out bolder than I felt.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows lightly on the table, studying me as if I’d just said something worth dissecting. “Then how do you propose to know me?”

I hesitated, then a spark of mischief bubbled up, surprising even me. Maybe it was the surrealness of the day, maybe it was the food finally calming my nerves, but the words spilled out before I could second-guess them.

“A game,” I said.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “A game?”

“Yes.” I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms with mock seriousness. “We take turns asking questions. Simple ones. Nothing too invasive. And we both have to answer honestly.”

The silence stretched for a beat. His gaze was unreadable, the air between us charged.

Then, to my absolute shock, his lips curved. Not the faint twitch I had seen before, but an actual smile—small, controlled, but real. “You want to play a game with me?”

I nodded, my heart hammering. “Unless you’re scared.”

His eyes glinted, sharp and amused. “I don’t get scared.”

“Then prove it,” I said, a tiny grin tugging at my lips.

He sat back again, his presence filling the vast room as if the walls bent to his will. “Fine. After dinner.”

A flutter of anticipation rushed through me. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but for the first time that day, the heaviness in my chest eased. For the first time, I felt something other than confusion or dread.

For the first time… I felt curious.

We finished the dinner and Alaric led me to another room. It was filled with shelves filled with books, and antiques. We took our seats in a soft single sofa facing each other. The maids came in and placed plates of dessert on the table between us.

“Let’s begin,” Alaric said, his deep voice threading through the quiet library. I'm calling it a mini library since it has so many books.

I tucked my legs beneath me, leaning forward with an eager smile. “Okay, but I go first since it was my idea.”

One dark brow arched. “Fair enough.”

“Favorite color,” I shot out. “You can’t roll your eyes either, I’m starting simple.”

His lips twitched. “Gray.”

“Gray?” I scrunched my nose. “That’s not even a real color. That’s what happens when black and white get bored.”

For the first time, he actually chuckled—low, brief, but unmistakably amused. “It’s still a color.”

“Fine.” I tapped my chin dramatically. “Okay, your turn.”

He leaned back, eyes gleaming. “Why pasta?”

I blinked. “What?”

“At dinner. Out of everything you could’ve chosen. You picked pasta first.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Because it’s safe. Pasta never lets you down. You can dress it up fancy or just eat it plain, and it still works. It doesn’t… disappoint.”

The moment the word slipped out, I regretted it. His eyes sharpened slightly, but he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded once. “Fair answer.”

“My turn!” I said quickly, desperate to break the heaviness creeping in. “Dogs or cats?”

“Neither.”

My mouth dropped open. “You monster!”

His lips curved slightly. “I don’t dislike them. I simply don’t keep pets. They require trust. And time.”

Something about the way he said it made me pause, but I forced a laugh. “Remind me never to let you babysit.”

His eyes glinted. “Noted.”

The questions bounced back and forth. Silly ones at first: favorite season, whether he preferred coffee or tea, if he could cook anything beyond toast. I learned he hated sweet drinks, liked autumn because it was “quiet,” and could actually make a mean omelet. He learned I loved mangoes, always burned toast, and couldn’t swim.

It felt… normal. Dangerous, almost. Like I could forget everything else if I wasn’t careful.

Then he asked the question that stopped me cold.

“What do you fear the most?”

I swallowed hard, fidgeting with the hem of my robe. My smile faltered. “You’re supposed to start with easy questions.”

“I thought we’d moved past easy.” His gaze was steady, calm, but intent.

I hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “I guess… being unwanted. Giving everything I have to someone, only to find out I was never enough.”

His eyes didn’t waver. He didn’t mock, didn’t pity. He just… listened. And somehow, that was worse because it made my chest ache.

“Your turn,” I said quickly, my voice quieter now. “Same question. What do you fear the most?”

For the first time since we’d started, he looked away. His jaw tightened, his hands folding together loosely. The silence stretched until I almost thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then his voice came, low and rougher than before. “Losing control.”

I blinked. “Control of what?”

His eyes cut back to mine, dark and unreadable. “Everything.”

A shiver slid down my spine at the weight in his tone. This wasn’t just a man who liked to be in charge—this was a man who needed it, like it was stitched into his very skin.

The air grew heavier between us, the dessert plates untouched, the game no longer playful but something else entirely. Something that felt like the edge of a cliff.

I cleared my throat softly, trying to ease the tension. “Guess we’re not exactly playing twenty questions anymore.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice quiet but certain. “We’re not.”

Our eyes locked across the space, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the room was holding its breath.

"And that brings us to the end of it all." I said. "Hmm." he nodded. I looked at the time and saw that it was already quite late, we spent almost two hours in this room.

"Goodnight." I said standing. "Good night, Kimani." he replied.