Chapter 5 — Betrothed to the Song Heir

The moment I stepped inside, he lunged at me, burying his face deep into my chest. I quickly fumbled to put in my noise-canceling earplugs.

"When are we getting married?"

I blinked, my face a mask of utter bewilderment. "Excuse me?"

"I said I want to marry you! I want to be your husband!"

"Oh," I replied, forcing a stiff, perfunctory smile.

"Honey, I’ve thought it all through. We’ll have a traditional ceremony first, then a Western-style wedding, and finally, we’ll head off on a honeymoon trip."

"I see," I murmured, pretending I’d processed his words. Seizing a moment when he was distracted, I yanked the earplugs out and tossed them carelessly into a corner. They were high-quality; I could always buy another pair. Immediately, Song Duong Trach’s voice flooded into my ears with crystalline clarity.

"I’ve been practicing lullabies for days. We’re going to have a beautiful daughter, and I’m going to sing to her every single day."

So, that’s what the singing practice was for.

"Let me sing for you!" Duong Trach announced, raising a microphone he had seemingly produced from thin air.

"No, no, no—" Not necessary!

Regret washed over me for ditching the earplugs. I scrambled to find them, feeling a surge of frantic panic.

"Mrs. Song, is it true that Duong Trach visited the Thuy household and had his mind shattered by that Thuy Ham woman?"

Before I could devise a plan, a shrill, piercing voice rang out from the doorway. Perfect. But what had she just said? At least she’d distracted him, but what was this nonsense about me shattering his mind? If anything, I had him wrapped around my finger, which seemed far more plausible. I turned toward the sound to find a wealthy socialite standing there. If I wasn’t mistaken—and I usually wasn’t—this was the third wife of the Truong family patriarch. She had married a man sixty years her senior at the age of thirty-two, and she had stepchildren the same age as herself. The Truong and Song families had been close for generations, and this woman had birthed a daughter who was the apple of her father’s eye—a girl two years younger than Duong Trach who had clearly set her sights on him. Had I not entered into an arranged marriage with him, she might have been the one standing in my shoes. While Duong Trach was often erratic and possessed truly disastrous taste, to the older generation, the Song wealth was magnetic; to young women, his handsome face was a trophy. He was quite the catch. Upon hearing he’d had a breakdown, she had clearly rushed over, hoping to see if the position of Mrs. Song was suddenly vacant.

"The Thuy family is nothing but nouveau riche with a shallow foundation, and they’ve recently gone bankrupt, haven't they?" the woman continued. "Thuy Ham is hardly a match for Duong Trach; she pales in comparison to my daughter, Mat Mat."

"My Mat Mat is gentle, considerate, and knows how to please others. Her grades are always at the top of her class—she’s ten thousand times better than that spendthrift Thuy Ham!"

I stood there, listening to her monologue, feeling a strange sense of indignation. By all means, praise your daughter, but why drag me through the mud to do it? It was true that I was a pro at spending money, but shouldn’t that count as a specialized skill?

"Hello? Hello? Testing?"

Duong Trach, standing beside me, cleared his ears and spoke up. Wait—when had he changed into that sharp, casual suit? He looked polished and effortlessly handsome. He reached out and pulled me into his arms.

"I’m taking this woman to the civil registry office today!" he declared. "From this day forward, we are legally husband and wife!"

He flicked his bangs back with a cocky grin. "The daughter of the Truong, Ly, or Vuong families—none of them can tear us apart. My fiancee is the most beautiful woman in the world!"

***

I stared at the two crimson marriage certificates in my hand, my head still spinning. Hadn’t I just come to check on him? How on earth had we ended up officially registered? That idiot Duong Trach was beaming like a fool, clutching his certificate and refusing to stop smiling.

"Wife, wife! From today, you’re officially my wife!"

"Wife, wife! Let me see your certificate!"

"Wife, wife! Why does yours smell better than mine? Let’s trade!"

"Wait, no—the one who smells amazing is you, my love!"

He was like a broken radio, chattering incessantly. But I didn't stop him; I let him go on. By the time we returned to the Song estate, the Truong woman had stormed off, face crimson with rage and shame. I had a sneaking suspicion that by tomorrow, rumors would be circulating that I possessed dark magic, having bewitched Duong Trach until he was a mindless puppet. But so what? What they can't have, they never will. It felt absolutely exhilarating! Duong Trach leaned in, his face inches from mine.

"Can I have a kiss now?" he asked with a sly, crooked grin.

"Sure—" I barely got the word out before he sealed my lips with his.