Chapter 23: 23

Jessie pov

I take slow, deliberate steps. The house is dead silent; everyone is asleep except me.

My hands and eyes take turns feeling and staring at the infamous Cooper Neoclassical house. It is as spectacular inside as it looks from the outside, reminding me of a villa we stayed at in Monaco with my parents, only this is much bigger.

I greedily look up and down the walls. It feels like a museum, rich with the Cooper family's history. If only the walls could talk...

I take a snap and send it to Layla, so at least we can talk about it.

"Magnificent. You are living in my dreams," she responds immediately, and I'm surprised she's awake too.

"Why are you awake?" I text back.

I stop when I see a photo of young Oliver, Cara, and their parents. Oliver looks so happy, staring at his mother. The image saddens me.

For the past few hours as he slept, I turned every second to make sure he was still breathing.

"Just thinking," Layla texts back.

"Fred is never going to marry me," she adds, sending another text before I can respond.

"He loves you. Be upfront, tell him what you want." I text.

"I'm calling him now, I don't care if he's sleeping." Layla states.

I smile and put my phone away, turning back to stare at the boy who is now my husband. He's sick, labeled a dying man by my parents, who refuse to disclose his ailment.

I run a hand over my hair, thinking of my little sister, Kai. She was in and out of hospitals more than I can remember. I coped by making jokes with her. Iris hated the jokes.

Iris, on the other hand, buried her head in books. Our father had a library built for her and bought her all the first-edition books she wanted. Then one day, she said she had an idea of what was wrong with Kai. After being doubted by some doctors, they finally listened when she said Kai had a heart problem.

Kai successfully had heart surgery, and ever since then, she was no longer in pain and looked healthy.

I miss my sisters.

I shake my head.

Iris should have married Oliver—perhaps she could have found a cure. I have no use to him; all I can offer is pity and jokes that some may find insensitive.

I feel tears forming. Before marrying Oliver, I thought of him as a good person. A lot of people would agree. The thought of him being stood up and fighting for his life alone brought me pain and reminded me of Kai.

He doesn't deserve this.

A soft scuff of shoes on the ground behind me sends a jolt through my spine. My breath catches in my throat. I whip around, hands trembling, and there he is—Oliver, standing just a few steps away, his presence so close it takes my breath away.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

I want to speak, to say something, but the words lodge themselves in my throat, heavy and useless.

I take a step back until I'm against the wall. "Nothing," I say, looking away to hide my tear-stained face.

"I'm going for a run," he announces and starts to walk away.

I check the time on my phone.

"It's only two in the morning," I say.

"I have an early morning work schedule," he replies.

"Can I come?" The words slip out, and my phone immediately starts ringing.

It's Layla. I answer as Oliver watches me. "Jessie," Layla sniffs.

"Can I call you back, Layla?" I ask but end the call before she can answer.

I feel bad for doing that—I know her concern is important—but I find joining Oliver urgent. Fear for his health drives me.

"Am I allowed to come?" I confirm.

"Regardless of my answer, you'll still do what you want," he says, exhausted.

My clothes have yet to be brought here, and I'm in my pajamas—silky ones. Can I run in them? Can I even run?

Minutes later, I'm heaving like a broken engine sputtering its last breath, my lungs desperate for air.

I stop and bend over, out of breath. I've never been a sporty person—always the least physically fit for any activity in my life. What was I thinking?

"O...li...ver?" I stutter, and when I look up, he's far away. He's still running. Without a care, he left me behind to die.

I breathe in and out and stand upright. I attempt to run again, but my legs won't move. They're shaking, and my skin feels like it's being pricked.

I can't find the strength to call for Oliver. The next thing I know, my body is falling. I don't even feel pain when I hit the ground—just relief.

"You're awake?" I hear a voice and lift my head to find Oliver sitting beside me.

I look around and realize I'm still where I fell. I groan as I sit upright.

He's smoking and holding a torn book, reading under the streetlight.

"You smoke?" I blurt out.

"Surprised?" he smirks.

I nod.

"I guess we learned something new about each other—like you can't run," he mocks.

I roll my eyes at him, resisting the bait.

He takes a puff and throws the cigarette butt on the ground, stepping on it. Then he stands, and my eyes shoot up when I see him bend down near me.

"Hop on, princess—your chariot awaits," he says, turning and squatting a bit to help me climb onto his back.

I think about declining but realize that's what he expects from me. I secretly smile as I move forward and jump onto his back. He loses his balance momentarily but quickly steadies himself.

"I bet you didn't see that coming."

He chuckles—I've never heard that sound from him before. It eases my strained muscles, and I relax as he stands.

His two bodyguards, who were at a distance, start to walk when we do.

I don't want to ruin the moment, but I start to worry if I'm straining him. He's not well. Is this my new life, where every action and word I say must be scrutinized?

I agreed to the wedding to appease my parents, motivated by the pity I felt for Oliver. Now that I'm in, what now?