“I’m sorry, Mr. Whitmore. I’ll do better tomorrow,” was always her gentle reply.
Every night, while Sebastian slept—or pretended to—Emily softly spoke as she massaged his swollen feet.
“I know you’re kind,” she whispered.
“Maybe people hurt you with their words. Don’t worry. I’m here. I’m your wife. I won’t leave you.”
Sebastian heard every word.
And beneath the thick armor he wore, his heart slowly softened.
THE GRAND CHARITY GALA
The night of the Grand Charity Gala arrived—the first time Sebastian would introduce Emily to high society.
He dressed her in a stunning red gown and draped her in expensive jewelry.
He himself wore a tuxedo, still tight around his massive body.
All eyes followed them as they entered the ballroom.
A woman approached—Vanessa Cole, Sebastian’s former girlfriend from before he had become “fat,” according to rumors. In truth, Vanessa was the woman who had shattered his trust.
“Oh my God, Sebastian,” Vanessa laughed.
“You’ve gotten even bigger! Is this the woman you bought? How much did she cost? She looks like a gold digger.”
Vanessa’s friends laughed.
“The perfect couple—the beast and the paid bride.”
Sebastian lowered his head.
He waited for Emily to cry.
To step away.
To feel ashamed.
But he was wrong.
Emily released the wheelchair and stepped forward.
“Excuse me,” she said firmly.
“Do not call my husband a monster.”
Vanessa froze.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, he’s big. Yes, he’s not as polished as your husbands,” Emily said loudly enough for the room to hear.
“But this man has a heart bigger than all of yours combined. I married him because of debt—I admit that. But I stayed because for three months, I saw kindness you’re too shallow to notice.”
Emily placed her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.
“I am proud to be Mrs. Whitmore. And I would rather spend my life with this ‘beast’ than with plastic people like you.”
The ballroom fell silent.
Vanessa stood humiliated.
Sebastian looked at Emily—and saw courage, loyalty, and love.
She was the woman he had been waiting for.
“Emily,” he whispered.
“Let’s go home.”
THE TRUTH
Back at the mansion, Emily guided Sebastian into the bedroom.
“Shall I prepare your tea, Mr. Whitmore?” she asked gently.
“No,” Sebastian replied.
His voice changed.
It was no longer hoarse or strained—
it was deep, smooth, and irresistibly confident.
“Emily… look at me.”
Slowly, Sebastian stood up from the wheelchair.
Emily gasped.
“Y-you can stand?”