The Stranger I Married Chapter 3: You’re my wife

Ella blinked, montarily forgetting how to breathe.

How did this man know her na?

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the counter, a subconscious act of self-preservation. She had spent the last few years trying to be invisible, to blend into the background, to avoid drawing attention to herself—because attention usually ant trouble.

And yet, here he was.

Tall, refined, and dangerously composed. A man who didn’t belong in this café, not among the scent of burnt coffee and the hum of an old espresso machine. He looked like he belonged in boardrooms, on the covers of business magazines, standing next to a woman in a designer gown at so charity gala.

Not here. Not in front of her.

Mia nudged her subtly, eyes wide with interest. Ella swallowed, trying to find her voice. "How... do you know my na?"

The man tilted his head slightly, as if studying her. "It doesn’t matter here. Can we talk?"

Ella hesitated. Every instinct scread at her to say no.

But she was too curious. Too desperate for sothing—anything—that wasn’t the suffocating cycle of her life.

"Fine," she said quietly, untying her apron. "Give five minutes."

Mia shot her a look that said, Who the hell is he? Ella ignored it.

She led him to a small outdoor seating area behind the café, a quiet space with string lights hanging above. The sun had fully risen now, casting a golden glow over the city. She folded her arms, keeping her distance.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The man reached into his coat, pulling out a sleek envelope. He didn’t hand it to her right away. Instead, he studied her again, like he was searching for sothing in her face.

"Do you rember going to Vegas two years ago?" he finally asked.

Ella’s blood ran cold.

Of course she rembered.

Vegas had been her last act of rebellion, her final taste of freedom before everything in her life had gone to hell. She had gone with a few friends, determined to forget the suffocating expectations placed upon her as the heiress to her family’s wealth.

And then, the mont she returned ho, her world had shattered.

Her mother’s accident.

Her father replacing them with his new family.

Her stepsister making sure no one in their old world would ever acknowledge her again.

Her life had unraveled so quickly that she never had ti to think about Vegas. It beca nothing more than a blur in the chaos.

Ella’s throat tightened. "Yes. I rember."

The man finally handed her the envelope. She hesitated before opening it, fingers trembling slightly as she pulled out the contents.

Inside was a marriage certificate.

Her na was on it.

And next to it, written in neat, bold letters, was a stranger’s na.

A single sentence fell from his lips, quiet yet firm.

"I believe you’re my wife."

Ella’s mind went blank.

She stared at the paper, trying to process what she was seeing. It had to be fake. A joke. So kind of elaborate mistake.

Her gaze snapped back to him, her pulse roaring in her ears. "This... this isn’t real."

His expression didn’t change. "It is."

Ella took a step back, shaking her head. "No, I would rember if I got married."

"Would you?" he asked, voice maddeningly calm. "Do you rember every detail of that trip?"

Her lips parted, but she hesitated.

She rembered drinking. Dancing. Laughing for the first ti in what felt like forever. She rembered feeling free, unburdened. But the details... they were fuzzy.

And suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

The man slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Nicholas Carter."

Her stomach clenched. That na. She had heard it before.

Nicholas Carter. A na whispered in business circles, the heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire. Ruthless, brilliant, untouchable. Only a few people actually knew what he looked like.

And apparently, her husband.

Ella gripped the chair beside her, needing sothing solid to hold onto. "This doesn’t make sense. Why now? Why are you only telling this now?"

Nicholas exhaled, his gaze steady. "Because I just found out myself. My lawyers uncovered it while investigating so records. And I wanted to see you before making any decisions."

Decisions.

Like what to do with the wife he apparently didn’t even know he had.

Ella laughed, but it was hollow. "So what? You’re here to offer money to sign so divorce papers?"

Nicholas’s jaw tightened, the first crack in his otherwise unreadable deanor. "No."

Her brows furrowed. "Then why are you here?"

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if debating how much to say. Then, he leaned in slightly.

"Because I don’t believe in accidents."

A shiver ran down her spine.

She didn’t know what he ant by that, but the intensity in his gaze made her stomach twist.

"Take the day to process this," he said finally. "But we need to talk again. Soon."

Ella stared at him, still reeling. "And if I don’t want to?"

Nicholas smirked, but there was no amusent in it. "Then I’ll make sure you do."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Ella gripping the marriage certificate like it might burn her.

Her world had been falling apart for years.

Now, it had just turned upside down.