HIS DEATH 8

Chapter 8 

It wasn’t just Adrian. 

Even the guests, the journalists, and the board elders who had watched me grow up were all in shock. 

The name I had just announced wasn’t Adrian Whitmore. 

It was–Blake Hawthorne. 

The guy I’d been at war with since childhood. My lifelong nemesis. 

Even Blake himself looked like I’d grown a second head. 

“You serious?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in that usual cocky way. “Is this one of those reality show stunts? Because if I say yes, and tomorrow you tell me it was just a prank to tick off your ex–I’m suing for emotional damages.” 

I looked him straight in the eyes, lips curling slightly. 

Then I calmly folded the official Langford marriage document in my hands. 

“Relax. I’m serious.” 

“Blake Hawthorne, you’re free to decline a legally binding, globally live–streamed marriage contract–your call.” 

The smirk on his lips faded. 

He froze. 

For the first time,  

I saw him completely speechless. 

No jokes. No swagger. 

Just silence. 

He took the document from the officiant and began reading it–page by page, word by word. 

Focused. Intent. Nothing like the devil–may–care Blake everyone thought he was. 

And then- 

He smiled. 

But it wasn’t a smirk. 

It was the kind of smile that held disbelief, the stunned wonder of a boy who just got everything he thought he’d never have. 

It was the smile of someone thinking: I’ve waited for this. I didn’t think it would ever come, but it did. 

“If you’ve chosen me,” he said, his voice low, intense, then I won’t give you a single reason to regret it.” 

Then he took my hand. 

And that was all it took–to set Adrian off. 

“This is insane.” 

His voice was low but boiling with rage. 

“Evelyn, you’re the heir of the Langford family. You can’t just use marriage as a way to lash out!” 

He looked at me like he was waiting for me to admit it was a mistake. 

“You’re doing this because I fell for Lillian, right? This is just to test me?” 

Fabad His Death Married His Enemy. Now He’s Begging 

1.196 

Chapter 8 

I turned to him. 

Looked into the face I had once loved so deeply, and now… felt nothing for. 

“This isn’t revenge. Adrian,” I said calmly. 

“It’s release. You love her. I’m just stepping aside.” 

No sooner had the words left my mouth than Lillian clung to his arm, eyes shimmering with tears. 

“Miss Langford, I’ll be forever grateful for your blessing- 

She kissed Adrian on the cheek, like she was the one standing at the altar. 

I didn’t even look at her. 

Adrian’s face shifted–anger, confusion, discomfort–then he pulled away from her awkwardly. 

He should be happy. 

He had everything now. 

But somehow, as he watched me and Blake walk forward, hand in hand- 

He looked like he’d just swallowed glass. 

“Then don’t come running back when you regret it,” he muttered. 

“Because I won’t be there.” 

I smiled faintly. 

“Adrian… I’m not asking you to wait. And I’m not looking back.” 

I turned to Blake and held out my hand. 

“Let’s go, fiancé. If we’re getting married today, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” 

Blake gave me that classic crooked grin and gave an exaggerated bow as he took my hand. 

“No worries. Now that you’ve chosen me, I won’t let you spend your wedding night crying over an empty bed.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Who said I was going to cry?” 

We bantered like always, walking toward the center of the stage–into the spotlight, into the cameras, into the world watching. 

My father stood below the platform, addressing the press with a meaningful smile. 

“Today, the Langford Group officially announces the engagement of our heiress, Evelyn Langford, to Mr. Blake Hawthorne.” 

Applause erupted like thunder. 

And just like that, I was holding hands with the one man I used to despise- 

And now… the one I trusted most. 

At the altar, in front of everyone, he lifted my veil and kissed me. 

Not a polite kiss. Not staged. 

It was deep, lingering, and full of meaning, 

We didn’t pull apart for a long time. 

He looked into my eyes, then whispered with a teasing smile: 

Chapter 8 

“Evelyn Langford, from today on you’re my wife. And if you ever regret it-” 

“I’ll slap a divorce letter in your face myself,” I shot back. 

He laughed like he’d won the lottery. His whole face lit up. 

“Good. I won’t ever give you the chance.”