Chapter 62
Realizing that Alaric was serious, Galatea’s heart pounded with fear, and a wave of fury surged within her.
“Alaric, we agreed that I would only pose as your fiancée, not actually get married. How can you break your word?” Galatea demanded, her voice trembling with anger.
Hearing the accusation, Alaric’s displeasure flared. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he shot back, “I did ask you to pretend to be my fiancée, but it was you—you, not me—who said we weren’t getting the license. That doesn’t count for me!”
“How can you twist my words like that?” Galatea snapped, frustration evident on her face. “You never said it explicitly, but your actions made it crystal clear. You told me not to get any ideas about climbing the ladder, so how can you backpedal now?”
Alaric remained silent, his face hardening as he sped up, his focus on the road. Galatea’s voice rose in volume as she tried to make her point again, “Are you even listening to me? A marriage license is something that two people in love decide together. We’re just pretending, and I don’t want to go through with it! Stop the car!”
Memories from her past suddenly surfaced—her first, ill-fated marriage. It had been with a man she barely knew, a man who was in a vegetative state, yet their marriage had been legally recognized. It had been arranged by Mrs. Marigold, and she still carried the burden of that connection. Now, she feared that if Stellan Storm was still alive, she would be tied to him in both a personal and legal sense. A marriage license with Alaric would only complicate everything.
Alaric’s face darkened as he accelerated, his silence only adding to Galatea’s mounting anxiety. His grip on the wheel was so tight his knuckles whitened.
“Alaric, you’re used to giving orders,” Galatea shouted, her voice trembling with defiance. “But this isn’t something you can command me to do! I do not agree. I do not want to get a marriage license with you. Do you hear me? I won’t!”
Before she could finish her sentence, Alaric slammed on the brakes, causing the car to screech to a halt. Galatea was jerked forward, her seatbelt the only thing preventing a collision with the dashboard.
“Is marrying me really so objectionable to you?” Alaric’s voice was low, seething with anger. He loomed over her, his eyes blazing with fury. “Do you have any idea how many women would give anything to marry me? I’m offering you a status, and you have the audacity to refuse? Don’t be so ungrateful!”
Galatea, though terrified by the intensity of his anger, held her ground. “If there are so many women who want to marry you, why are you so intent on marrying me?” she asked, her voice steady despite her fear. “All those things you thought—about me climbing the social ladder, playing hard to get, manipulating you—they’re just your own malicious speculations. I’ve never thought that way, not at all!”
Her words hung in the air, and the atmosphere in the car shifted, thickening with tension. Alaric’s veins bulged, his face contorted in a snarl, resembling a bloodthirsty lion ready to pounce.
“Galatea,” he growled, his voice cold and deadly. “I’m asking you one last time—will you get a marriage license with me or not?!”
Galatea could feel her pulse quicken in fear. His anger was overwhelming, and though she was afraid, she refused to give in. “I won’t go!” she declared firmly. “Even if you bind me and drag me to the county office, my answer is still the same. I won’t get a marriage license with you!”
Her words were like a slap to his face. Alaric clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked, his anger near boiling over as if he were about to strangle her. Galatea’s heart raced as she instinctively shrank away from him.
“Get out of the car!” Alaric suddenly barked, his voice like ice.
“Get out?” Galatea was paralyzed with fear. She barely registered the words. Alaric’s voice cut through her confusion, this time loud and clear. “I said get out!”
The command was so forceful that Galatea knew she had no choice but to obey. With trembling hands, she opened the door and stepped out onto the wet pavement.
As soon as she was out of the car, Alaric slammed on the gas, speeding away without a second glance. Galatea stood there, stunned and shaking.
“What a lunatic!” she muttered under her breath, her fury matching the rain that began to pour down from the sky.
In his mind, Alaric was already running through several scenarios. He was convinced that Galatea’s apparent affection for his son was just a manipulation—an act to climb the social ladder. She had been pretending all along, but now that he’d suggested getting a marriage license, she had dropped the façade.
“How many women dream of marrying me?” he fumed, his thoughts spiraling. “And here I am, offering her a title, ready to spoil her, and she refuses! Crazy woman! Ungrateful, crazy woman!”
His mind raced with curses, each one more venomous than the last. The sound of raindrops tapping against the window slowly pulled him out of his self-righteous anger. Was it raining now?
He hadn’t even realized how far he had driven, his mind consumed with frustration and rage. As the rain intensified outside, a sudden thought jolted him back to reality—Galatea had just been discharged from the hospital. Her health had been fragile, and now she was out in the rain alone.
His fingers fumbled for his phone, desperate to call her, but it rang from the passenger seat. Her phone! He realized with a jolt that in his fury, he had practically chased her out of the car without allowing her to grab anything. No phone. No cash. No way to reach anyone.
What a mess.
Without a second thought, Alaric swiftly turned the car around, speeding back to the spot where he had abandoned her. But when he arrived, the area was empty. She was gone.
Frustrated and anxious, Alaric drove through the streets, searching for any sign of her. When he reached her apartment complex, his heart sank. There was no sign of her outside.
He parked his car and rushed to her door, his knuckles pounding urgently on it.
“Knock, knock, knock!” The sound echoed in the hallway.
“Coming!” Mia’s voice answered, and the door swung open. She looked up at him curiously. “May I help you, sir?”
“Is Galatea back?” Alaric asked urgently, his worry mounting.
“Oh, yes,” Mia replied, looking past him briefly. “Stellan just got back. She said she got caught in the rain without an umbrella, was tired, and went off to bed.”
Relief flooded Alaric’s chest at the news, but his concern quickly returned. She had been caught in the rain? Given her fragile condition, this worried him even more. If she caught a fever…
“Mia,” he said, pulling a business card from his pocket and handing it to her, “If Galatea has any health issues, call me immediately. Don’t tell anyone I’ve been here. You must say nothing.”
Mia nodded, but before Alaric could say another word, he turned to leave. He froze for a moment, then looked back at the door, realizing that he still had Galatea’s phone in his hand.
He stood there, torn. A part of him wanted to knock and return it, but after a moment of hesitation, he simply tucked it away and left without a word.
Back in his car, Alaric didn’t start the engine right away. He just sat there, gripping the phone tightly, worry gnawing at him.