Cordelia’s mind went blank. She felt a warm chest press against her back. She could even hear strong, rhythmic heartbeats. The man above her kept her securely within his arms, and she tried taking a deep breath but still could not stretch out her frozen limbs.

The man stopped abruptly.

“Do you know who I am?”

Cordelia paused.

The man wanted to say that he was her husband and this was their wedding night. It was more than justified for them to do this as husband and wife.

In spite of this, Cordelia took his question literally and timidly answered, “I do… You’re Marcus Grist.”

The man squinted and gave her a light smirk. Marcus Grist… Hah, should he be glad that she knew the name? It was too bad that he was not Marcus Grist—and she was not Yelena Jenner.

From the moment she had stepped through the door, he had been able to tell that she was only a substitute. He did not know why, but the temper of the Jenner heiress would never allow her to marry a countryside villager.

It was fine, though. She was a stand-in bride, and he was marrying her by pretending to be another man. It was a fair deal.

“Marcus…”

That snapped the man out of his thoughts. As soon as he looked down, he met her shiny eyes. The girl’s soft, shy expression felt like a hand clutching something at the bottom of his heart.

“I’m sorry, I’m too nervous.” Cordelia bit her lip and tried to hook her arms around his neck.

“You’re my husband. There’s nothing wrong with you doing anything to me… W-We can start.”

Tiny beads of sweat dotted the tip of her dainty nose. She inched closer to him clumsily but she was shaking like a leaf.

Marcus’ heart jolted. Just when Cordelia was about to kiss his lips, despite being clueless about what she was doing, he suddenly held her hand and put some distance between them.

Cordelia was stunned. Her blush was still evident on her cheeks as her eyes brimmed with confusion.

“Forget it,” he said, looking at her. “You’re tired today as well. Let’s sleep early.”

“Marcus, I—”

“I think you need some time to adjust. Until you’re adjusted to having a husband, I won’t put you in a tough spot,” he said before he turned away.

Cordelia was in a trance while watching his naked back. Then, when the man’s light snores filled the room, she studied him carefully.

He was handsome when he was asleep. His profile was sculpted, and his straight brows were manly. His muscled arm was cushioned under his head, and his chiseled body made Cordelia pink in the ears.

Cordelia felt her heart skip a beat and quickly turned away. Sleep soon muddled her consciousness, and her mind was filled with her stepmother and Yelena’s mockery before her wedding.

They had told her that the Grists were family friends with them and there was truly a marriage pact. However, the Grists had been hiding in the countryside village since their fall and had not been doing well. The Grist son was a useless, infamous thug and was said to frequent the police station…

“How could I possibly get married to a thug?” Yelena had huffed. “You’d do better. Your mother’s been with countless men anyway, and your brother’s a b*stard!

“Someone like you only deserves a thug!”

“Cordelia, think about it,” Cordelia’s father had said coldly. “I’ll give you some money as long as you marry Marcus Grist in Yelena’s place, and you’ll be able to treat your mother.”

Cordelia’s stepmother had insulted her. “It’s an honor for you to marry someone as the second heiress of the Jenners, you little wh*re! Don’t be ungrateful!”

Cordelia woke up with a startle, discovering that the sun had long risen and the man next to her was nowhere to be seen.

Cordelia draped a light robe over herself and went out to the front of the house, where Marcus was working out.

The man’s upper body was bare while he held two dumbbells in his hands. As the morning sun shone on his pronounced muscles, it felt like he was Helios, who had descended from heaven.

Cordelia’s cheeks burned a little as she greeted him softly. “You’re up early!”

Marcus turned around to glance at her.

Cordelia scanned her surroundings. The front of the house was not too spacious. It was rather messy, and there were sandbags, boxing gloves, baseball bats, weights, and similar things lying around. Her heart squeezed. She dared not claim that the rumors were true, but Marcus must fight often.

She wondered about the man’s temper. She had heard that people in this area were severely masochistic and it was not uncommon for drunk men to beat their wives up.

Cordelia bit her lip and stepped closer, asking him with almost bated breath, “Um… Have you had breakfast?”

“No.” The man’s answer was curt and icy.

“Go make some.”

Cordelia nodded and darted into the kitchen.

She worked fast and soon made a pot of soup, some pancakes, and even pushed a plate of bacon toward Marcus.

Marcus looked up, only to meet her beaming eyes. Feeling a jolt, he put some bacon on her plate.

Cordelia was about to say no after her initial surprise, but she heard the man say in his deep voice, “Eat more. You’re very thin!”

“Oh…”

She pressed her lips together. She actually had a lot to tell Marcus—such as apologize for last night. It was more than normal for newlyweds to do it, but it had ended up feeling like he was forcing her.

She also wanted to ask him about their future plans. They were husband and wife now, so there should be some sort of plan in place.

In addition, she still did not know what his job was and how he was going to take care of the family…

They needed to get to know each other better.

However, when Cordelia saw Marcus digging in and noticed the visible calluses on his fingers as he lifted his hand, she knew that those were from punching and striking sandbags. Whatever had been about to roll off the tip of her tongue was swallowed back down.

The first meal after their wedding was long and silent. Cordelia was upset about it, but there was no place for her to turn back to.

“Right, do you have anything to do today?” she asked.

Marcus paused. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m going to town to return the wedding dress,” she answered with a smile.

Marcus froze. He had not given any thought to the wedding and had no idea that she had rented the wedding dress. It was the dress of a lifetime for other women, and they all bought their wedding dresses merrily. The situation left a strange taste in his mouth.

“I’m not asking you to accompany me!” Cordelia explained when she noticed his silence. “I’ll return the dress myself. Go about your business. Don’t mind me.”

“Mm,” the man hummed in response.

Both of them were polite to each other, as though they were mere roommates.

Cordelia cleaned the wedding dress and bagged it in the plastic, just like it had been when she had gotten it. She took several buses and only arrived at the bridal boutique when it was almost noon.

The Jenners had prepared nothing for her aside from the promised monetary gift when she had gotten married. She had only searched the town herself and finally found this boutique with dress styles and price points she was happy with. The boutique was not huge, and the staff was used to being arrogant. Customers like Cordelia, who got married with rented dresses, were looked down on.

“Miss, are you sure we’ll still be able to rent this dress in the future?” The sales assistant raised her voice in disdain.

“Look at it yourself. See what you’ve done to it!”

“I washed it!” Cordelia said hurriedly. “I promise it’s clean! There’s nothing wrong with it!”

“Hah, you washed it?” the sales assistant scoffed. “Miss, why’d you wash it when you only rented it for a day? You rented it to get married, not to farm, right?”

Cordelia, who was embarrassed, flushed.

The conditions during her wedding had actually not been too different from farming conditions. She had walked the muddy village paths in the rain, soiling her white wedding dress and shoes, as well as chafing her feet.

The sales assistant flipped the skirt of the wedding dress repeatedly and threw Cordelia dirty looks.

“Miss, even if you wash this washing dress, you have to dry wash it!

“Do you even know what dry washing means?”

The sales assistant intentionally mocked her upon seeing how naïve she was. “Sigh, our wedding gowns have been sold one after another since we opened for business. This is the first time we rented one… Hah, don’t get married if you can’t even afford a dress!”

“Can’t one get married without buying a wedding dress? Is there a law against it?”

Cordelia turned around in surprise upon hearing the sudden stern voice and saw Marcus walk in. It was as if the air had frosted around his eyes, and he oozed an authoritative presence.

There was a slight frown on his face as he approached Cordelia and naturally wound an arm around her. He snorted at the sales assistant, “Do you think people are blind enough to miss the huge ‘wedding dresses for rent’ sign in your shop?”

“You—”

“Besides, the styles you have here are average, and the quality is not exactly fine. There’s no need to buy one back!”

The sales assistant nearly rolled her eyes. “Just admit that you can’t afford one! Picking a fight with us is… Hah… We have designer haute couture too!”

Marcus raised a brow and caught a glimpse of the wedding dress on the mannequin in the center of the hall. It was a fishtail dress that would accentuate one’s figure. There was golden thread sewn discreetly in it, as well as scattered diamantes in the chest area.

The design stood out relatively but could not be compared to the nice things he had seen in the past.

“Pft, stop eyeing the dress!” the sales assistant snapped, “You won’t be able to afford it no matter how much you look! Sigh, miss, I feel bad for you. You’re so pretty, yet you didn’t pick properly before you got married. What a waste of this pretty face!”

“Whatever’s between me and my husband is nothing for an outsider like you to comment on!”

Marcus jolted. The little woman had always been docile and nice, but she was currently arguing aggressively.

Cordelia took a step forward, glaring at the sales assistant. “I can take the wedding dress to the dry cleaner and bring it back. But you have to apologize to my husband for what you said!”

“What?”

Cordelia was nice—depending on the person speaking to her. She could endure it when others bullied her, but if people around her were bullied, she would fight with everything she had—even when that was her husband, who she had never met and had just gotten married to.

Her face was flushed as she repeated herself. “I said, apologize to my husband!”

The sales assistant rolled her eyes at her and ignored her.

“I don’t need an apology,” Marcus said with a smirk as he looked at her.

“Do you like that wedding dress?”

“Huh?”

Cordelia followed the direction of his finger and saw the wedding dress glimmering in gold right in the center of the boutique. She was enchanted, but she did not understand what the man wanted to do.

Marcus still had a smirk on his face when he pulled out a card and placed it on the counter. “My wife likes that dress. I’ll take it.”

It felt like the air suddenly froze. The sales assistant stared at them wide-eyed, and Cordelia was at a loss.

“Marcus, what are you doing…” Cordelia tugged at the man’s sleeve and reminded him softly, “We’re already married!”

“We can still get one as a keepsake,” Marcus replied. “That’s designer haute couture, so it requires a fitting. Does your place have specialized staff for that?”

Then, the sales assistant broke out of her reverie and put on a pandering grin. Her hands clenched each other as she bowed respectfully.

“Sir, are you really taking it?”

“Yes, take my wife’s measurements now.”

“I’ll call the designer then…”

“Miss,” Marcus said with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t you do it?”

The sales assistant went rigid.

“I don’t want it if you’re not the one taking the measurements.”

The sales assistant started panicking a little in front of this man with the powerful presence. A purchase like this was rare, and she had a duty to measure the customers, so she went over to Cordelia after retrieving the measuring tape.

“Miss, I’ll—”

“Will you be able to measure the skirt like this?” Marcus scoffed as he trained his dark gaze on the sales assistant.

“To measure the skirt, you have to get on your knees!”