In Love With My Bully-Chapter 101: Queen’s Gambit

Queen stared at him, disbelief sharpening her gaze. "I didn’t ask you to propose to me," she said.

"And yet, that’s what’s expected of me. You told me marriage was what was delaying you to become CEO; I took it as a hint," Liam defended himself.

Queen turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. "So, you’re saying you aren’t ready to get married? Well, that’s good because I am not getting married to you."

Liam’s brow furrowed, confusion and panic flickering across his face. "I didn’t hear of any cancellation."

Queen’s lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with a mix of defiance and satisfaction. "Because there isn’t. I am still getting married today, Liam. Just not to you."

His mouth opened and closed, the realization hitting him. "What? You had a backup plan?"

She chuckled, a sound that was both amused and scornful. "I didn’t think I needed one, but like you said, I am Queen fucking Numero, and I never lose. Now get out!"

"Queen..." he began.

"You heard the lady. She said get out!" Drake’s voice boomed from behind Liam, firm and unyielding.

Liam turned to face him, eyes narrowing. "This is none of your business."

Drake stepped forward, crossing his arms, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt. "You have three seconds..."

Queen almost chuckled at the absurdity of the muscle flexing, but she could tell Drake was serious. He could take Liam down if he wanted to.

Liam glanced between them, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turned to Queen once more, his eyes filled with regret, before brushing past Drake and exiting the room.

Queen raised an eyebrow at Drake. "You seem quite dependent on your packs."

Drake shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Sorry, habit. My dad taught me how to use my body language to intimidate." He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Yup! Godfather Martin can be scary without a word." Queen smiled as she turned toward the mirror again. The corners of her mouth curved up in a way that was soft, almost vulnerable—a rare sight for anyone who knew her as the iron-willed Queen Numero. For a moment, her reflection looked younger. Less corporate beast, more hopeful woman.

Drake stood watching her. His usual playful glint was replaced by a calm reverence. "I actually came to see if you were still okay with the plan. But you apparently are."

Queen lifted her chin with a smirk. "I heard it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. I’m gonna go prepare. All I have to do is show up, right?" There was a joke in his tone, but a sliver of nervousness peeked through. He was putting on a show of ease, but the weight of what they were about to do;fake or not was starting to settle in.

Queen nodded. She opened her mouth, paused, then finally said softly, "Drake?"

He stopped mid-turn. "Yeah?"

She looked at him, the façade slipping just an inch. "Thank you."

His face lit up with that smile—the one that always seemed to say he’d happily jump into a volcano if she asked, and maybe whistle while doing it. "You got it." With that, he exited the room, but not before glancing back once, eyes lingering a little longer than necessary.

*****

Drake stood at the altar with his hands clasped tightly in front of him, every finger fighting the urge to fidget. The altar wasn’t in a chapel or a fancy hall, it had been built beside the peaceful, flower-lined graves of Abby and Grandfather Numero, in the garden that had become a sacred family space. It was a strange blend of reverence and irony: saying "I do" next to the dearly departed. But this was how the Numeros did it; sentimental and dramatic.

The garden sparkled. Literally.

And here he was. Dressed like Prince Charming, except this suit had been thrown together just hours ago by some fashion wizard in the Numero army of assistants. Still, it fit him like a dream, and he felt... worthy. Even if only temporarily.

There was no best man standing beside him. His dad was somewhere being the mysterious godfather to Abby.

But Drake stood taller.

In a few minutes, even if the vows were just a performance, he was about to be a member of one of the most complicated, intimidating, and ridiculously loving families he had ever known. The kind of family that loved fiercely and meddled constantly.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Standing there, stiff as a statue, in a suit he hadn’t picked, about to say "I do" to the literal embodiment of ambition in heels. He was getting married... married to Queen Numero. The Queen Numero.

Wow.

Just then, the music began. Heads turned, breath caught, and Queen stepped into the garden.

All eyes locked on her, but Drake felt the wind get knocked right out of his lungs.

Draped on her father’s arm, her gown shimmered with a quiet elegance, of course designed by Chay.

Richard looked proud. He should be proud. He had raised her well. Ruthless, yes. Strategic, absolutely. But when he looked at Queen, he didn’t just see the polished heiress who had never failed in her life. He saw her. The woman who could gut you in negotiation but also very caring. The woman who pretended love was an unnecessary side quest but whose eyes gave her away every single time. Beneath the power, the wealth, the headlines, was a woman whose heart was a masterpiece waiting to be explored.

And he loved her for it.

God help him, he actually loved her.

Queen raised her head as she approached the altar. Her eyes locked on Drake’s and for a split second, the sass slipped. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She was insane. Absolutely, gloriously insane.

Because she was actually doing this.

Marrying Drake Lamine.

She had grown up watching her parents; Nita and Richard Numero, fall in love a thousand times over. Their love was loud, chaotic and full of laughter. She knew she could never have that. It was ther downside to being an heiress, every one loved you for what you have, the power you have. She convinced herself she was built for success.

And yet, here she was.

About to marry the one man she never expected, a man that didn’t care about her power or status but didn’t feel a thing for her. He was just helping out a friend. He showed up when he didn’t have to. He listened even when she was barking orders.

As she looked into his eyes, and saw that he was just as terrified, just as bewildered, but still standing there with that same ridiculous hope in his expression, she felt gratitude.

With one last glance at her father, she stepped forward.

And the wedding of the year was about to begin.

*****

Chayara followed behind Queen with her heart dangling by a thread. Each step toward the altar felt like she was walking Queen to her own execution. She wasn’t just a bridesmaid, she was the emotional courier of unspoken feelings, carrying her own love gift-wrapped and handing it over without anyone asking.

No one had prepared her for this kind of emotional apocalypse.

He’d confessed to loving Queen but of course, everyone loved Queen. Queen with her tailored poise, her impossible cheekbones, her command of any room she entered. Queen, who didn’t even want Drake. Not really. Not in the way Chay wanted him. Not with her whole soul.

Chay’s own feelings had been a secret relationship between her and her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She blamed herself for never confessing. Why hadn’t she said something? Why did she hide her feelings? Was it fear?

Chayara took her place behind Queen. She stood rigid, her hands clasped together, willing herself to stay calm.

The vows were short and just as emotionally detached.

"I promise to protect you and to be your rock," Drake said.