Sweet Revenge: Kissing the CEO's Uncle - Chapter 12

My marriage to Damien, from the announcement, getting the certificate, to the wedding, took only three days.

The comments had a faint sense of doom, saying they couldn’t quite figure out whether I was after the Shaw Group or genuinely liked Damien.

Wilder hurried back from his travels, but by the time he arrived, Damien and I had already completed the wedding and reached the new house.

He looked at me, nearly collapsing, calling out “Bronte” repeatedly in frustration.

I patiently corrected him, “Mind your manners, call me mom. If you don’t want to, Aunt Bronte is fine.”

Damien also comforted Wilder, “Aunt Bronte said she won’t compete with you for the company, but if you have any uncertainties, you can discuss them with her.”

Wilder’s eyes reddened as he looked at our marriage certificate, storming around in circles.

On the wedding night, Damien seemed a bit better, and we sat on the bed chatting, unsure of what to do first.

I took out the list of 100 small things I planned to do before Damien “left.”

The first thing: kiss.

The second thing: hug.

The third thing: wedding night.

…

…

I read them out earnestly.

Damien’s gentle gaze watched me, his slender fingers helping to move the stray hair from my forehead.

I lowered my head, held his hand, kissed it at my lips, cautiously, reluctantly.

He cupped my face, leaned in, his thin lips cool and soft.

A tingling sensation.

We even forgot to turn off the lights.

The spring water rippled through the night.

No matter what, I just didn’t want Damien to live like a machine for half his life and then leave.

Even if he ultimately had to leave, he deserved to experience all this.

Half a month after the wedding, Damien hadn’t touched work.

Wilder took over, somewhat flustered.

Damien, meanwhile, accompanied me in completing the task list while writing a “Query Guide” for us.

Essentially, it was a guide edited with potential problems and troubles Damien and I might encounter in the future.

In doing so, he barely had time to sleep.

At night, I lay in Damien’s arms, kissed him on the lips, his thin lips curved into a shallow smile, kisses falling on my forehead, nose, lips.

At this point, Damien barely had the energy to do anything else.

The comments said it would be just these two days.

My heart sank.

The doctors we sought everywhere looked at Damien’s reports and shook their heads.

Beyond saving.