Oops! I Married His Nemesis - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

The second half of my birthday gala turned into something out of a fairy tale—helicopters swarmed the sky, raining down millions of dollars' worth of pink roses in a breathtaking spectacle.
And then, in the middle of it all, Hextor Harrington descended from the lead chopper, strapped securely into his wheelchair as it was lowered onto the red carpet.
The man was impossible to ignore—even confined to that chair, he commanded the room. His usual icy gaze softened as it landed on me, and the shock in the air was almost tangible.
Dad nearly spat out his champagne. "How the hell did he get here?"
The guests erupted into hushed murmurs. Sure, most of them saw Hextor as "the paralyzed trust fund kid," but they weren't stupid—he was still the sole heir to D.C.'s most powerful dynasty.
Years ago, if the Harringtons hadn't been so obsessed with securing a "proper match" from their old-money circles, Hextor would've been married off long before now.
Because let's be real—the Harringtons weren't just rich. They were American royalty. The Montclairs? New money. Loaded, sure, but without the pedigree.
Everyone assumed I'd be nothing more than arm candy for Hextor, convinced the Harringtons would never take this engagement seriously.
But as the room buzzed with speculation, Hextor looked up at me with a rare smirk.
"What kind of engagement party runs without the groom?"
"Am I fashionably late enough?"
He held out a bouquet of Bulgarian roses—probably worth more than most people's cars—and waited, watching me.
I didn't leave him hanging. Taking the roses with a genuine smile, I said, "Your timing couldn't be more perfect."
The ice in his expression melted instantly. For the first time in public memory, Hextor Harrington actually looked… happy.
That alone sent shockwaves through the crowd. Before his accident, Hextor had earned the nickname "Frost King" for his ruthless business tactics. After? He'd become even colder—cutting off his own father without a second thought.
Just as I took Hextor's hand, Jasper stormed in through the main entrance, looking like he'd seen a ghost.
The guests exchanged knowing glances.
"Looks like Callahan's having second thoughts."
"Bet he realized he overreacted. Now he's back to smooth things over."
"They've been attached at the hip since they were kids. If he shows even an ounce of regret, she'll drop this Harrington circus act in a heartbeat."
Before I could react, Hextor's grip tightened just enough to send a silent warning. His face stayed perfectly composed, but his eyes darkened like storm clouds.
The second Jasper locked eyes with him, some primal instinct must've kicked in—because he flinched. But he pushed forward anyway.
"Sorry about all this," Jasper said, voice strained. "Charlotte's got a stubborn streak. If she said something that gave you the wrong impression, don't take it personally."
He reached for my arm, his eyes practically begging, "Stop this crazy stunt."
Hextor's expression turned arctic. "And you might be…?"
Jasper had been the face of Montclair Industries for years. There was no way Hextor didn't know exactly who he was.
This was a power play, plain and simple.
Jasper opened his mouth to say he was my fiancé—but then his gaze dropped to my hand in Hextor's, and reality hit him like a slap.
Until now, he'd only ever been the Montclairs' adopted son. Nothing more.
Hextor's lip curled. "If you're addressing me as the Montclairs' charity case, I'm afraid you don't have the standing."
Jasper's face burned, but he kept his desperate focus on me. "Charlotte, are you seriously torching your future over one stupid fight?"
His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
After all our history, I could spot Jasper's panic from a mile away.
But the real question was—what was he really panicking about?
That I was marrying Hextor?
Or that the Montclair fortune might be slipping through his fingers?
I gave him a cool smile. "Hextor and I are crazy about each other. This has nothing to do with getting back at you. Our engagement's already locked in—unless you're trying to pull some rom-com stop the wedding moment?"
I deliberately baited him, and just like clockwork, Jasper took it.
"I'm not trying to just—" He faltered, scrambling for words. "I can't stand by while you mess with the Harrington family name. If you back out later, the Montclairs are finished."
I actually laughed. "That's hardly your problem, considering your business card says Callahan, not Montclair."
When Dad adopted the three of them, Jasper had insisted on keeping his birth name—refusing to take ours.
Dad hadn't pushed it. He'd let them have their way.