
Her Regret: I Married the Lottery Bride
Chapter 3
Delusional
I frowned. "That's my engagement suit, Rachel."
She shrugged it off. "I'm busy. I don't have time for an engagement party with your family. And suits look better on Zacharias, not you."
Zacharias had his back turned to her, and the arrogance on his face was in full view for me. However, the words that came out of his mouth were filled with guilt. "If he won't let me have it, then it's okay. The suit looks expensive. A nobody like me can't…"
"You're not a nobody. You're the man I love. Sieghart? He only looks successful, but that's only because he relies on his parents. He's not nobler than you are."
Rachel did not even hold back. She handed the suit to the maker. The maker did not do her bidding. He was waiting for my orders.
Since his grandfather's time, my family had been their biggest client. However, his silence stoked Rachel's fury. "You…"
I interrupted, "If he likes it so much, I can give it to him."
That eased Rachel's expression. "Since you're being smart, I can have dinner with you once a month after we're married."
My God. That arrogant look of hers. She thought she was pitying me and giving me a shred of her love?
Ah, now I got it. No wonder she started to change the moment she found out my family was at the top of the line, while hers didn't make it to the top ten. I used to admire her fearless attitude. I used to admire her for never valuing someone for the money they had.
But since she found out my family outclassed her, and vastly so, she changed. She kept bringing up my family in every conversation. She kept telling me I only had what I had thanks to my parents.
Rachel kept nagging me and looking down on me. Just because I loved her, she did not hold back and hit me where it hurt the most.
At the end of the day, it was just her projecting her insecurity on me. And I laughed. "And what makes you think I'm marrying you, Rachel?"
Rachel sneered contemptuously. She looked like she'd heard the biggest joke ever cracked.
"You have followed me around since we were kids and wouldn't stop telling me how much you loved me. Every year, your birthday wish was to marry me when you turned twenty. Now you're finally twenty years old. There's no way you're giving up that wish to marry someone else."
Zacharias put his arm around her. He mocked, "Maybe. I mean, his family's at the top. The ladies around the nation are dying to marry him."
"And even then, he'll only take me as his wife."
Then, both of them left. Before they did, Rachel told the maker, "Send the suit to my place. And don't engrave any letters on that tacky necklace."
The maker saw them off, and he sighed. "Mr. Shaw, what will you do?"
"If she wants it, she can have it. Perfect reason for me to design a whole new one." I sat back down and worked on the draft. "You can ignore her suggestions about the suit. She's not my fiancée. She has no power here."
My friend was throwing a birthday party that night. We were already halfway through, and only then did Zacharias make his grand entrance. There were bodyguards following him.
One of them placed a red plastic bag beside my foot.
"You need the suit, don't you, Mr. Shaw? I was going to return it after the concert, but Rachel wanted to do it with me in the car. Well, you're a broad-minded man. You won't mind, will you?"
I stared at the suit. It cost 450 grand, but now it was crumpled up like some washcloth. There was some sort of white liquid on the fabric, and the sight of it hurt my eyes.
Some of the guests stood up for me. Some laughed at me.
"He's still so calm even when the other guy's challenging him openly. Guess he really loves Rachel."
"So what? She only loves Zacharias."
"Man, I can't believe the Shaws' only son is simping so hard. Guess he'll give his family's riches to the Osbornes."
I looked away. The sight disgusted me, and I had someone toss it out. "Glad you liked it, Mr. Newman."
My detached attitude obviously wasn't what he wanted. His bragging did not hit anything. The guy clenched his fists and went to the last table, where his seat was.