When My Marriage Becomes Their Entertainment

Elizabeth's POV

"I'm hanging up now. I still have an anniversary to celebrate."

On the other side of the call, Louise McCoy was clearly caught off guard. "You're not going to break up with her?"

"And why would I? So I can be with you? You're getting married soon, for goodness' sake."

Annoyed, Owen Mercer ended the call. He took the cake out of the box and carefully placed it in the center.

As though nothing had happened, he lit the candles and waved me over. "Liz, come make a wish."

My entire body went numb as I stared into his eyes. They remained perfectly calm, with not a single trace of guilt or remorse.

"Was it really fun lying to me for so long?"

The smile on Owen's face slowly faded. "I wouldn't exactly call it lying. I was willing to lose to her just to set the record straight. I didn't want anything to destroy what we have. Doesn't that prove how much you mean to me?

"Besides, we're just not legally married yet. I never said I wanted to leave you."

Seven candles stood tall on the cake in front of me, glaring back like a burning reminder that this was the seventh year I had been made a fool.

The candlelight gave off little warmth, yet it still made the faded scars on my arm itch slightly.

I could never have imagined that the man who vowed to stay with me for life and the bully who once burned me with a curling iron had actually been childhood sweethearts all along.

The fake marriage certificate sitting on the corner of the desk was impossible to ignore. The photograph beside it captured the happiest smile I had ever worn. I had truly believed the hardest days of my life were finally over.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "That's right. You didn't lie."

It was me who had been the fool—foolish enough to believe someone could look at all my scars and still choose to love me with everything they had.

I picked up the fake certificate and held it over the candle flame. The fire licked at it, and in a heartbeat, the edges began to blacken.

Owen reacted instantly, pulling me into his embrace. He grabbed a cup of water and poured it over the flames, putting them out at once.

"What are you doing?" he barked. "I thought you were terrified of fire!"

He still remembered the trauma I'd been left with after being bullied.

Every year, I would whisper my birthday wish into his ear, and he would blow out the candles on my behalf.

For seven years, I made the same wish over and over again. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Owen."

My mother remarried, and my father also started a new family. No one longed for a stable, unchanging home more than I did.

What had been going through Owen's mind when I told him all of that? Had he been laughing at me deep inside, mocking just how easily I had fallen into his trap and how he had been stringing me along for years without me ever realizing it?

And after everything, he was still the one who had to "kindly" reveal the truth to me.

The flames were extinguished, but a bloody gash remained on my finger.

Owen brought out the medical kit and applied antiseptic to my wound. A complex emotion flickered in his gaze.

"Stop being dramatic, okay? There's nothing going on between Louise and me. You know she's about to get married anyway. Just tell me what you want, and I'll make it up to you."

He grabbed his phone, ready to pull up the gifts he had saved in his shopping cart for me.

Suddenly, his expression stiffened. He looked at me, his brows furrowing tightly. "Is this all some kind of setup? I explicitly told you not to post anything. Did you deliberately burn yourself just to force my hand into marriage?

"Elizabeth, are you really that desperate for a ring? Isn't being in a relationship the same anyway? I was already going to—"

His words trailed off as a phone call came through. It was Louise.

Her loud, obnoxious laughter burst through the speaker. "Hey, kid, everyone already knows your wedding is next week. I told you before—poor people like her don't have any dignity. Even after being played, she's still desperate to marry you.

"She must have learned you're rich. What a pity. She has no idea you promised to protect me forever."

Owen's expression darkened as he ended the call. "Delete your post immediately," he ordered.

"I'm not taking it down, Owen. The wedding is next week."

My grandmother, Tania Holt, was seriously ill. She had always wondered why Owen and I hadn't tied the knot yet, given how stable our relationship appeared from the outside.

The truth was, he had long since promised himself to another woman. Continuing to date me was already the greatest act of charity he could offer. I was supposed to be deeply grateful for it.

But why on earth did he think I would ever accept his pathetic trace of pity?