Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142

Chapter 142

Jessica’s POV

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The priest’s voice droned on, steady and solemnn, filling the grand cathedral and vibrating through the speakers of my TV.

The camera work was intrusive, capturing every gilded detail: the towering stained-glass windows, the cascades of white roses, and the flickering candles that looked like a thousand tiny witnesses.

The feed cut to Lauren. She looked nauseatingly beautiful, her smile so bright it felt like a physical assault.

She stared at Aaron with an expression of pure, unadulterated triumph, as if she had already won the war and I was just a casualty she’d forgotten to bury.

With every passing second that remained undisturbed, it felt like my lifespan was decreasing-each tick of the clock a jagged slice off my heart.

No one was bursting through the doors; no sirens were wailing.

I sat rigid on the sofa, my nails digging into my palms so hard I could feel the skin breaking. The remote was clutched in my hand like a lifeline, or maybe a weapon I wanted to hurl at the screen.

What is taking him so long? I thought, my hands trembling as I gripped the sofa cushion.

Is he waiting until the priest tells them to kiss before he stops this?

The tension coiled in my chest like a spring wound too tight, sadness morphing into anger. More than grief, I was actually getting mad at Aaron.

It felt like he was dangling me over a cliff, waiting to see how long I could hang on before I snapped.

This wasn’t a damn movie. I didn’t need a cinematic, last-second miracle; I needed this nightmare to end.

I watched him on the screen-a mask of stoic, immovable stone. He looked like he was attending a funeral, not his own wedding, his silence deafening.

“…with this ring, do you, Lauren Walter, take Aaron Tyrone…” The priest’s voice faltered for a second, but Lauren didn’t hesitate.

“I do,” she said, her voice ringing out through the cathedral, clear and happy.

Finally, it was Aaron’s turn. The air in the living room felt thin, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the house.

The priest adjusted his spectacles and read the line again, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

“Do you, Aaron Tyrone, take Lauren Walter to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her and honor her, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?

The cathedral fell into an eery, suffocating silence. The crowd waited, leaning forward in their pews, breathless for the final ‘yes’ that would cement the Tyrone legacy.

I was frozen, my eyes burning.

A terrible thought began to root itself in my mind: What if he says yes? What if his enormous scheme was to go through with it, destroy her from the inside like in those dark books and movies? What if I was being left behind again

No… no. Please, Aaron. Panic clawed up my throat, a cold sweat breaking on my skin.

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The show were me, a juutound thest that made my hand shake, tears spilling week as I imagined a life witlund him

As the waiverse hou my heartbeat, the canters panned away from the couple and sended on the bont row. It landed on Kwv How the pausah

He booked like a king wahing hominion. Hos mismatched one blue, one hazel were fixed on his grandson,

knowing e

bie was wading the host of his silver cane, a thythm predator movement I knew he did when he was fighting to MAGAGAM COMA

The camera souped back to daron. Now, he was holding the rig, grasping Lamen’s hand delicately, the diamond Bashing wedes the tights as if it knew exactly what it was doing

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The priest stared at him, pusset by the delay, his eyebrows knogether in confusion.

The dewce whed for what felt like hours, and I caught Langs expression begin to fracture.

The glow of the excited bude started to him, replaced by the hatening lines of a woman realizing she was being humiliated in from of the work!

Pixel karan spoke this voice wasn’t loud, but it was perfectly ar

The wise cathecal let out a collective, audible gasp. People half rose from their seats, the journalists in the back started whiring frantically into their mis

While the world hold its breath in shock, I finally released mine

“Dan” I whispered to the empty room.

The camera captured the fallout in detail.

Lauren’s face shattered her jaw dropping as her carefully constructed triumph turned into a public execution.

In the front row, Kennedy’s cane stopped mid-twirl. He went rig, his mismatched eyes narrowing into slits of pure. homicidal fury

Bat Aaron? He was the eye of the storm. He stood there, as calms a summer lake, not even flinching at the scandal he’d just

A subtle, dangerous smirk tugged at his lips as he held his grandfather’s gaze, a silent declaration of war that the cameras caught for a split second before the feed cut abruptly to commerials.

I sank back into the cushions, the air finally returning to my lungs in great, sobbing gasps.

The tears were different now-no longer filled with fear, but war with a sense of profound release and overwhelming love.

He’d done it. Somehow, he’d pulled it off

Aaron’s POV

“No” I said. My voice was calm, devoid of the heat and fury that were currently radiating off the woman standing across

from me.

Lauren’s face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He skin turned a shade of red that rivaled the crimson roses in the foyer.

12:10 Mon, Feb 16 G

Chapter 142

“No?” she bellowed. The word wasn’t a question; it was an explosion.

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I took a slow, steady breath, bracing myself for the chaos. I knew that in roughly five minutes, I would be the most talked- about man on the planet, and that headline would stay fresh for the next thirty years. I didn’t care.

In the midst of the shouting and the frantic movement of the gists, my eyes drifted to the front row. I found my grandfather.

His jaw was clenched so tightly I thought the bone might snap. thick vein was pulsing dangerously against his temple.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. I had warned him..

Two Hours Earlier

The silk tie felt like a noose, tightening with every breath I took.

I stood before the mahogany-framed mirror in the church’s groom suite, the air thick with the cloying scent of floor wax and expensive floral arrangements.

Outside those doors, a thousand people were waiting for a performance. Inside, I was preparing for a war.

David stepped up behind me, fussing with my lapel. He adjusted the boutonniere-a single white rose that looked pristine but felt like a cluster of thorns against my chest.

“Everything in place?” I asked, my voice low.

He met my eyes in the glass and gave a singular, firm nod.

“The docs are ready to be served. Merger loopholes, the offshore accounts, and the dirt Fiona dug up on Lauren’s family. It’s all locked and loaded. The second you say the word, the “Tyrone Legacy’ becomes a public autopsy.”

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders refusing to yield to the tailored fit of the tux.

“We owe Fiona one for this. I shouldn’t have been so scorched-earth with her.”

David stepped back, analyzing my look, ensuring everything was in order.

“That’s understandable man. You thought she was the reason Jess vanished. And… six years in professional exile is a hell of a price to pay, but she’s the one who gave us the ammunition to end this. You are going to bring her back to the limelight, right?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, checking my watch-the one Jess had given me. It was the only thing on my person that felt real.

“She’s earned her redemption. I’ll make the calls once the dust settles.”

I was speaking more to myself than to David. It was a debt of honor.

Suddenly, a slow, mocking clap reverberated through the dressing room. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was

The scent of expensive, hand-blended spice and the heavy, calculated thud of a cane gave him away instantly.

Kennedy Tyrone stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

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