The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

14. WHO

|Javier|

“I still can’t believe you’re already married, Vier! You didn’t even tell us—didn’t even invite your own mother and father to the wedding!” my mother exclaimed the moment we stepped through the front door. Her voice was high with disbelief, but underneath it was something softer—disappointment.

Katherine hadn’t come in with us yet. She was still outside, mid-conversation on a phone call that sounded urgent from the tone of her voice. The rest of us—my parents and I—entered the house in silence thick with questions.

Mom led the way to the living area, her footsteps brisk and full of energy that came more from emotion than excitement. My father followed behind her at a slower pace, his hands tucked into his pockets, watching quietly.

I didn’t sit. Instead, I remained standing behind the sofa across from where my parents settled, as if keeping my distance might buffer the emotional storm building in the room.

“We’re going to have another wedding anyway, Mom,” I said casually, trying to downplay the situation, trying to calm her down with a tone that I hoped sounded lighthearted. “A proper one.”

My father looked over at me briefly as he lowered himself onto the couch beside her. His expression was unreadable, but he was listening.

“I married her quickly,” I added with a half-smile, trying for humor. “Just in case she ran off.”

That earned me a sharp glance from Mom—and a small, amused smirk from Dad. He caught the grin tugging at my lips and returned it before turning toward her.

“Well,” he said with a shrug, “they’re going to do it again anyway. A real ceremony. We’ll celebrate then.”

Mom didn’t respond right away. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, lips pressed into a thin line, but I could tell she was softening—just a little. Maybe the idea of a proper wedding, one she could actually be part of, dulled the sting.

Just then, I felt the familiar buzz of my phone vibrating in my pocket. A steady hum against my leg, pulling me out of the moment.

I reached for it, glancing at the screen—and instantly, I knew the quiet moment we’d found wouldn’t last long.

“Still,” my mother muttered under her breath, frustration tightening her voice. “If I had known today was his wedding, we should’ve gone. We should’ve been there.”

Her tone was sharp, the kind that usually led to a long string of could-have-beens and guilt-laced reflections. My father, ever the peacekeeper, placed a calming hand on hers and murmured something in an attempt to soothe her rising irritation.

I wasn’t really listening.

My mind was elsewhere—already drifting toward the person who had tried to reach me earlier, right around the time my parents arrived. I hadn't answered then. I didn't want to.

But now, as if on cue, my phone buzzed again.

Gabriel.

I inhaled slowly through my nose and let the breath seep out, trying not to let my irritation bubble over. He’d already called once—persistent, as always. I hadn’t picked up, not when my parents were just stepping into the house, smiles on their faces. The last thing I needed was a conversation with him interrupting that moment.

But Gabriel didn’t know how to let things go. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

I reached for my phone, ignoring the buzzing for a second longer. It wasn’t my secretary—he knew better. I had made it crystal clear that today was off-limits. No calls. No emails. No emergencies unless someone was bleeding or dying. My mother had rules about these kinds of visits: absolutely no work talk, no sneaky glances at laptops, no last-minute meetings, and definitely no business calls taken in her presence.

Break the rules, and you were guaranteed a drawn-out lecture about boundaries, balance, and “living in the moment.” She said it with such conviction, it was almost hard to argue. Almost.

Still, the name on my screen glared at me like it had something urgent to say. Again. Gabriel had left multiple missed calls, along with a trail of messages. Call me. It’s important. Pick up. Now.

My brows pinched together in silent frustration. The more he pushed, the less I wanted to listen.

My screen lit up once more—Incoming Call: Gabriel.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents shift slightly, their attention turning toward me. I was caught. I could feel my mother’s curiosity, the way her gaze narrowed like she could sense work creeping back into the room.

Without a word, I declined the call. The sound stopped instantly.

I looked up, forcing my features into a neutral expression. My father arched a brow. My mother tilted her head slightly, reading me the way only she could.

“What is it? Work?” Mom narrowed her eyes at me, the kind of look that sliced right through small talk. She always knew when something was up.

I shook my head quickly, hoping to brush it off before she probed further. “No, it’s Gab. He said he has something important to tell me,” I said, keeping my tone light, casual—even though I wasn’t sure it wasn’t important. “But it can wait. We’ll probably just talk later.”

The moment I mentioned his name, her posture relaxed. Her features softened, the edge in her voice fading into something warmer, more nostalgic.

“Oh, Gabriel,” she murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It’s been a while since I last saw him.” She gave a small nod of approval. “Well, go on. Take the call. Who knows? Maybe it is important.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I nodded and slipped out the door, grateful for the momentary escape. The morning air met me with a quiet hush, the garden still except for the occasional rustle of leaves.

Just a few steps away, I spotted Katherine standing near the rose bushes, her back to me, phone pressed to her ear. She was deep in conversation, one hand resting on her hip, head tilted slightly like she was listening closely—or trying not to lose her patience.

I turned away before she could feel my gaze and walked toward the opposite end of the yard. Pulling out my phone, I tapped on Gabriel’s name and pressed call.

The line barely rang once.

[“Finally!”] his voice burst through the speaker, loud and dramatic. [“You actually answered my call!”]

I winced and pulled the phone a few inches away from my ear, grimacing. “Do you have to yell?”

[“I’ve been calling you nonstop,Vier!”]

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice dropping into something cold, hard-edged. There was no warmth left in it—not that he ever noticed the difference.

Unsurprisingly, the bastard didn’t even flinch. He barreled right through the shift in my tone like it didn’t exist.

[“What do I want? Where the hell are you?!”] Gabriel’s voice exploded through the speaker, forcing me to pull the phone slightly away from my ear. [“Don’t tell me you backed out at the last damn minute!”]

Every syllable he spat reeked of frustration, barely restrained panic riding on top of the rage.

I let out a slow breath through my nose, trying to hold onto the last shred of patience I had. “Can you calm down? You’re shouting,” I said coolly, keeping my voice razor-sharp. Controlled. But like always, it went straight over his head.

[“What?”] he barked. [“You didn’t like the woman? Are you fvcking serious right now? I thought you said you didn’t give a damn who it was, as long as she fit your type—”]

“I did say that,” I cut in, my voice turning glacial. “But clearly, you weren’t listening.”

Silence buzzed on the other end, just for a beat. Then he laughed—bitter and humorless.

[“The woman I picked is perfect for you, Vier,”] he snapped. [“You asked for someone smart, decent-looking, clean record, no attachments. She checked every damn box. But more importantly—where the hell are you? You were supposed to show up at the wedding, not vanish into thin air. The bride waited for hours, completely humiliated—”]

“What the hell are you talking about, Gab?” I interrupted, my patience cracking. “I’m already home.”

There was another beat of silence—this one heavier.

“And the wedding?” I continued. “That ended hours ago.”

[“What do you mean it’s over?!”] Gabriel’s voice exploded through the phone, sharp and incredulous, laced with fury that bordered on panic.

I didn’t flinch. My tone stayed calm—too calm, considering the storm beginning to gather in my chest.

“Exactly what I said,” I replied, enunciating every word with ice. “The wedding is over. We’re at the ancestral mansion now, and we’ll be having breakfast with my parents. As husband and wife.”

There was a beat of silence—then chaos.

[“What the hell?! But Daniela said you never even showed up at the church!”] he barked, louder this time, raw disbelief pouring through every word. “She had witnesses! The priest himself stood there waiting for almost an hour! So don’t tell me the wedding’s over like nothing happened!”

Daniela? Who the fvck is that?

“Who’s Daniela?” I asked.

[“The woman who was supposed to be your wife, you moron!”]

I froze.

I turned around and looked at Katherine, whose back was still facing me. She was still on call.

No. No. There’s no way. Am I really thinking what I think I’m thinking?

My blood turned cold.

“Gabriel,” I said, my voice lowering to a dangerous register, teeth clenched so tightly it was a wonder I could speak at all. “Start from the beginning. And this time, explain clearly.”

I was already moving. My steps were slow but deliberate as I made my way toward Katherine, my stare never leaving her face.

She finally looked up—and saw the storm behind my eyes.

“Who,” I asked, the words cutting through the silence like a blade, “was I supposed to marry?”

Each syllable fell like a stone, heavy with barely contained fury. I could feel the heat rising in my chest, climbing my throat, threatening to break loose in a roar.

Because if my suspicion was right…

[“Daniela Soledad, Vier! That’s the woman you were supposed to marry!”] Gabriel repeated, his voice exploded through the phone, raw with frustration.

I didn’t say a word—just kept walking, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the figure ahead.

[“She’s the one I have sent to the church!”] he continued, practically yelling now. [“The mystery one I told you about last night! Daniela Soledad—twenty-eight, oldest daughter of the Soledad family. Their company’s sinking fast, you knew that. This arrangement was the deal—your marriage to her was supposed to save their damn company and lock in that merger!”]

Everything he was saying lined up with what I'd been told… except one thing. No one had ever given me a name. Not until now.

Gabriel was still ranting, the words tumbling out faster, his anger barely contained. [“She’s been calling me nonstop for over an hour! I couldn’t pick up at first—I was stuck in the middle of the shoot. And when I finally called her back? She asked me if the church address I sent her was even right! Said there was already a wedding happening there. I told her that was impossible. Impossible, Vier. I personally booked that venue for your six o’clock ceremony.”]

He exhaled shakily, then went on. [“So she panicked and assumed I gave her the wrong location. She went to the church down the street with her witness, thinking maybe I screwed it up—”]

“Then it’s her damn fault for showing up at the wrong church,” I cut in sharply, my tone clipped and ice-cold.

Gabriel snapped. [“Damn it, fine! But why the hell didn’t you call me when she didn’t show up?”]

My grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening. I could feel the heat rising under my skin, my pulse thudding in my ears as I picked up my pace, footsteps heavier now, faster. The woman I’d married—whoever she was—was just up ahead.

“I told you,” I said through clenched teeth, every word ground out like gravel. “The damn wedding is already done.”

There was a pause. A sharp inhale on the other end of the line, like he’d just been slapped across the face with the weight of my words.

[“You… what?”]

His voice cracked in disbelief.

[“What the—Who the hell did you marry, Vier?!”]