The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Cathleen’s eyelids fluttered open to the sterile light of dawn filtering through her sleek, modern office. She’d spent the night there again, with the couch becoming a makeshift bed more often than not. The ritual of morning coffee and case briefs lay shattered; James had always been her metronome, setting the rhythm of her day with uncanny precision. Today, silence greeted her as discordant and wrong. She perched on the edge of her desk, the screen in front of her already alive with the courtroom’s austere ballet-lawyers pirouetting around legal precedents, the plaintiff’s counsel animated and bold. Yet the space for defense was empty-an absence that gnawed at her gut. “Where the hell are you, James?” she muttered, her thoughts jagged in her mind. Her hand reached for the phone, a lifeline to clarity, but it buzzed first, disrupting the stillness. “James, you are running late?” She snapped before he could speak, her voice a whip crack in the quiet office. “Fuck, Cathy…” The strain in his voice echoed the tightness coiling in her chest. “Liz had a car accident, and she is pregnant.” His words hit her like body blows, each one stealing her breath.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“What? Wait? Your wife had an accident? How?” Cathleen asked.

“It’s a long story,” James said.

“And she was pregnant, and I’m just finding out now?” Cathleen asked out of disbelief. “Sorry, I tried to postpone the case,” he continued, remorse lacing his hurried speech. “What?” Cathleen’s voice scaled an octave as she catapulted from her perch, her heart hammering against her ribs. Panic clawed up her throat, the taste of metal and fear mingling on her tongue. “I did try to postpone the case, but they say it was on short notice…” James’ voice faded into static, leaving her grappling with silence once more. “Damn it!” she cursed the phone now just a dead weight in her grip. Her mind raced; every calculated thought was enmeshed with raw emotion. This was no mere disruption; this was chaos unfurling, threatening to unravel the threads of her meticulous control. For a moment, time seemed suspended, the world narrowing to the thrumming pulse in her ears and the gnawing void on the courtroom screen. Then, resolve hardened within her like steel tempered in fire. The firm has never lost a case, and they wouldn’t start now.

Cathleen’s mind raced as she clutched the silent phone. “Well, call Zane or Lydia,” she snapped, her voice slicing through the tension. “Zane has a court case today in Washington, remember?” James’ fractured voice crackled through the connection, his words tinged with urgency. “And Lydia… well, Cathy, I know you don’t want to face your husband, but you’re the only one-”

“No, no, no. James, I can’t face that man right now. You know I can’t.” Cathleen says her whole body is shaking at the thought of facing her husband, Xavier. “But those two know nothing about this case.” “Exactly.” James’ voice was strained and desperate. “… It will take a fucking whole week for Lydia to know everything. But I was working closely with you on this case. You know everything about this case, and the best person for-” His sentence hung unfinished, and the line died. “Hello, Hello, James?” She demanded into the void. Silence mocked her. “Damn it!” The oath erupted from her, raw and bitter. In the courtroom, the air bristled with anticipation. Xavier’s gaze swept the vacant space beside him where James should have been. An hour had crawled by-an hour of stares and whispers, an hour of the judge’s gavel weighing heavily in the balance. “Mr. Knight, we have waited for almost an hour for your lawyer to arrive, and we are left with no choice but to-” A hushed exchange at the bench interrupted the proceedings. The court reporter leaned toward the judge, murmuring words that snatched the breath from the room. With a grave nod, the judge cleared his throat. “There has been a change,” he announced, his voice booming in the sudden stillness. “All broadcast channels are asked to leave the premises and wait outside. No phones will be allowed. This is the request from the new lawyer representing Mr. Knight.” The courtroom buzzed with confusion, a hive disturbed, as reporters and cameras were herded out. The spectacle they’d anticipated was slipping from their grasp like sand through their fingers. Xavier’s fingers drummed a silent, impatient rhythm on the armrest of his chair as the low murmur of the courtroom hushed into anticipatory silence. He, too, didn’t know who his new lawyer was. The heavy wooden door at the front swung open with an authoritative creak that echoed off the polished marble walls, and the air remained still as if awaiting the crack of a whip. She strode in, her heels clicking like the ticking of a bomb about to detonate, and power cloaked her like a tangible aura. Cathleen-his wife, the enigma, now revealed as the legal gladiator who’d slaughtered giants in courtrooms. “Your honor, there won’t be a need for that,” came the smooth, assured voice. It cut through the noise, commanding and undeniably present. Cathleen thought that since her husband was going to know one, if not three, of her secrets today, so must the world. It was of no use to ask the media to leave. All around, the press craned their necks, cameras raised like weapons, and flashes fired off in a relentless barrage. They hungered for a glimpse of the woman who’d become an overnight sensation, the lawyer whose sharp tongue had carved her path through the ranks of the untouchable. “Miss. Cathleen,” one reporter dared, his voice slicing through the tension. “Any comments on the Knight case?” Her response was a blade, swift and lethal. “I save my arguments for the courtroom.” The gavel sounded, and Xavier’s gaze narrowed on Cathleen. This was no submissive to be commanded or bent to his will. She was a force unto herself, and as the proceedings began, Xavier leaned back, the predator within him roused by the prospect of the fight to come. Cathleen slipped into the chair next to Xavier and Caleb, her movements deliberate and unapologetic. She wore the lawyer’s gown like armor, her presence an unspoken challenge to all who dared question her right to stand in that hall of justice. “Miss Cathleen West.” The court reporter’s voice broke the stunned silence. “It’s a surprise you are comfortable showing your face to the public today. Thank you for coming.” There was an undercurrent of disbelief in his tone as if questioning how the ice queen herself had deigned to grace them with her appearance. She turned to face the judge, her expression inscrutable. “It’s okay; the reporters can stay, as can all channels. Sorry for coming late; my colleague couldn’t make it, so I had to take the case.” She said, her words clipped and resolute. Her eyes locked onto Xavier’s for a split second-a spark ignited between them, a volatile mix of contempt and undeniable chemistry. Caleb shifted uneasily, acutely aware of the storm about to unfold. Beside him, Xavier remained stoic, his smirk a silent admission of the game at play. Caleb nudged his boss, disbelief coloring his hushed tone. “Boss, you can’t believe this; Madam is the famous lawyer, the one they call the celebrity lawyer.” Xavier’s response came not in words but in the form of a smirk, curling at the corner of his lips-a silent taunt flung across the courtroom towards his wife. Memories clawed their way into Xavier’s mind, dragging him back to the courtroom debacle with BB Food, where paparazzi swarmed like vultures over carrion. Now, as then, the cameras hungered for a glimpse of the illustrious Cathleen West. And why the fuck is she using West? She is my wife; she should be using Knight. A smirk curled Xavier’s lips, tight and wry. Pride flickered behind his cold stare, mingling with the embers of resentment. It had been an age since he’d laid eyes on her, and damn it, he seethed for being kept in the dark so long. But here she was, in her element, and he couldn’t help but admire the fierce intellect he’d long underestimated.