The Unwanted Marriage: Dion and Faye's Story

The Unwanted Marriage DION & FAYE’S STORY THE WINDSORS BOOK THREE CATHARINA MAURA This one is for those of us that let life pass us by under the guise of doing the right thing. Keep making those difficult choices that you know you must, until your waking hours are better than your sweetest dreams. Trigger Warning This book contains sensitive themes, including but not limited to domestic violence in the female main character’s home (none between Dion and Faye) and parental loss. Even though retribution and a happily ever after ending are guaranteed, reader discretion is advised. Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Epilogue Chapter One Dion When my grandmother asked my siblings and me to gather in our formal drawing room, I’d known. I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself, but I’d known that my time was up. Grandma’s eyes roam over the room, and while she studies my four brothers and my little sister, I study her. I take in her perfectly styled shoulder-length hair, the blue suit she’s wearing, and the sheer uncompromising ruthlessness in her demeanor. There’s no kindness in her gaze today. I tense when she clears her throat, my stomach sinking the moment those cold green eyes settle on me. I knew what she’d say before she even parted her lips, but that doesn’t lessen the weight of her words. “Dion, your wedding date has been set,” she announces, her tone carrying a finality that I struggle to come to terms with. “The wedding will be held six months from now.” The tension in the room is palpable, the air laced with defeat. “I see,” I murmur, unable to keep my voice steady. My usual mask of indifference fails me tonight, and I lower my gaze, unwilling to worry my siblings needlessly. Arranged marriages are a Windsor tradition, and I’ve known for years that this day would come. Out of all my siblings, I’m the only one who’s been engaged for years, the only one who’s known who I’d marry for over a decade now. That never made it easier. No — if anything, it’s felt like a slow walk toward the gallows, until, at last, my fate is sealed. My grandmother begins to discuss wedding plans, details, and timelines, but I struggle to focus on her words. All I can think about is Faye, my fiancée. Thoughts of her are always accompanied by remorse, and today is no different. Remorse for everything I’ve taken from her, and everything I’m yet to destroy. She should’ve had her entire life ahead of her, but instead, I’ll ruin what’s left of her. “Dion?” my grandmother says, cutting through the haze. My eyes snap up, and I realize the room has fallen silent. “Need I remind you of our agreement? It’s time to stop avoiding Faye.” I clench my jaw and nod curtly. Faye and I have been engaged since we were children, but I wasn’t informed of it until I was sixteen. The second I could, I escaped to boarding school, followed by college overseas. The idea of marrying someone ten years younger horrified me, but even then, there was more to it. It was the fact that it was her. I kept running, choosing to focus on the global expansion of our conglomerate after college, just so I didn’t have to face her more than a few times a year. Working overseas bought me a bit more time, but it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. My grandmother continues to speak, but I can’t take another moment of this. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m out the door and halfway through our estate, my thoughts whirling. I keep walking, needing the fresh air, the chill in the wind — anything to keep my mind off Faye. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t been fully aware of where my feet led me. My heart twists painfully as I pause in front of a familiar building, the sharp pain a welcome deviation from the numbness that had overtaken me when I left the drawing room. I hadn’t meant to come here, but there is obviously no escaping my guilt tonight. My fingers gently brush over the hidden compartment in the wall, and I push against one of the bricks, exposing a spare key. Our childhood home is the only building on our estate that we never upgraded with the new tech we installed everywhere else. Though we never discussed it, my siblings and I came to a silent agreement to leave it untouched. Perhaps we all simply wanted to preserve what’s left of our parents, or maybe none of us are quite ready to let go. I’m not sure we ever will be. The house is quiet when I walk in, and though it looks the same as I remember it, it feels different. This home, that was once filled with warmth, feels empty, and it hits me just as hard as it did twenty years ago. Somehow, a small part of me expected my mother to walk down the stairs, a sweet smile on her face as she welcomes me home. Knowing I’ll never get to see her again still hurts