The Groom They Underestimated

Trevor's POV

On the day of my wedding, I was sitting backstage getting ready when my fiancée’s assistant suddenly handed me a marital agreement.

[Clause 1: No kissing below the bride’s eyebrows without permission.

Clause 2: The groom is allowed intimacy only once a month, depending on the bride’s mood, and each session must not exceed ten minutes.

Clause 3: At any time, if the bride feels uncomfortable, the groom must immediately stop all actions.]

By the time I finished reading through the hundred-plus ridiculous clauses, my blood was boiling. I grabbed my phone and dialed my fiancée’s number.

“Miss Young,” I said tightly, “care to explain Clause Ninety-Eight to me? What the hell does it mean that no matter who the child’s father is, the baby will still take your last name?”

——

Embarrassing as it is, this grand wedding today wasn’t born out of love; it was an old family arrangement set up by our grandfathers.

I had never even met the bride. All I knew was that she came from a powerful family in the capital.

But never in my life did I imagine that the so-called ‘rules of the elite’ could be this absurd.

“You’re just a live-in husband,” she said on the phone, her tone dripping with disdain. “Why would my child take your surname?”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

“Sorry, Miss Young,” I said firmly. “But I’m not signing that agreement.”

The next moment, her furious voice exploded through the speaker. “Trevor! I'm already doing you a favor. You should be grateful I even agreed to marry you! And you dare talk back to me?”

I froze in disbelief. This was the elegant, well-bred young lady my grandfather spoke so highly of? Because right now, she sounded like anything but.

I was about to argue with her, but she had already hung up on me.

Then, the assistant standing beside me gave a mocking laugh, his eyes full of contempt. “Mr. Dalton, I’d advise you to sign it quietly. Otherwise, with Miss’s temper, I doubt your life after marriage will be pleasant.”

Seeing my simple suit and my unassuming face, he clearly decided I wasn’t worth his respect.

Despite that, I met his gaze coldly. “If anyone wants to sign such a humiliating contract, be my guest. But I won’t.”

Our family might not be as rich or powerful as the Youngs, but we were never the kind to be pushed around. So, what if she was the capital’s treasured princess? If that’s the price of marrying her, then forget the wedding altogether.

Resolved, I tore off the tuxedo jacket and turned to leave.

But the assistant quickly stepped in front of me. “The ceremony’s about to start, Mr. Dalton. Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

My fists clenched on instinct as I glared at him. “My legs are my own. I’ll walk wherever the hell I want. You gonna stop me?”

Yet instead of backing down, he sneered even wider.

“Mr. Dalton, I suggest you put that suit back on. If you mess up today’s ceremony, you’ll be taking full responsibility,” he warned, his eyes flashing with threat.

But after years in the military academy, trained under the harshest instructors since I was eighteen, I wasn’t someone who bowed to intimidation. That pride ran deep in my bones.

Seeing his smug expression, my anger also flared hotter. “And what if I decide to walk out anyway?”

The entire glamor team froze, gasping.

“Holy crap,” someone whispered. “This guy’s got guts. He just talked back to Mr. Watts! Guess he doesn’t plan on staying in the capital after this.”

Another muttered, “It’s just an agreement. What’s the big deal? He’s really gonna offend Miss over that? He’s digging his own grave.”