His Second Choice, My First Empire

Jenna Bishop's father was a department manager at the Astor Group—a respectable position, but a rank that hardly warranted an invitation for his daughter to the top-floor banquet hall.

Her presence was tolerated for one reason only—she was the heir's favorite.

As soon as Evan spoke, a wave of whispers erupted through the hall.

Jenna lowered her gaze, a delicate blush coloring her cheeks, the very picture of humility.

She stepped forward and knelt gracefully.

"Mr. Astor," she said, her voice trembling but clear, "the honor Mr. Evan shows me is more than I deserve. I love him truly. I ask for nothing more than to be by his side. I don't need a title or status—only the privilege of being near him."

Evan turned to her, took her hand without a second thought, and lifted his chin as he faced the main table.

"Father, I will not let Jenna be shamed. I love her, and if I am to marry, it will only be to her."

A heavy silence fell.

"Evan," William Astor said slowly, his voice hard with disappointment, "do you understand the weight of what you're saying?"

Catherine's gaze shifted to Jenna, cold and displeased. The daughter of a minor manager aspiring to be the future matriarch of the Astor Group? The idea was absurd.

William Astor looked from his son to me, then spoke with deliberate restraint.

"Today is Marissa's day to choose," he said coolly. "As for this... arrangement you two seem to have, we can discuss it at another time."

Evan stood his ground, his face burning with defiance.

"I will not marry Marissa. I think of her as a sister, nothing more. If she insists on this union, then let all of Wall Street hear it—I will never share a bed with her. My only heirs will be born of Jenna."

He didn't stop there. His gaze turned to me, unwavering.

"As for Marissa," he continued cruelly, "she can remain under my name if she wishes. As a mistress, perhaps. It would suit her far better than a matriarch's title she could never truly own."

A collective gasp swept through the hall.

William Astor shot to his feet, furious.

I stepped forward before his anger could ignite the room.

"Mr. Astor," I said steadily, "it's alright."

Without a moment's hesitation, I fastened the Patek Philippe watch onto Jonathan's wrist.

He blinked, the amused expression still lingering on his face, but his features grew serious as I clicked the cold clasp shut.

"I have made my choice," I announced calmly. "I will marry Jonathan Astor."

For a moment, Evan simply stared, dumbfounded.

Then, a look of relief washed over his face, and he pulled Jenna protectively to his side.

"You see," he murmured to her, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "now no one can stand in our way. I told you I would only marry you."

William and Catherine exchanged a look filled with regret.

"Evan," Catherine asked softly, "are you certain? The agreements aren't signed. There is still time."

"I'm certain," he replied without hesitation. "I'm marrying Jenna."

Later, as I was leaving the banquet, I ran into them on the terrace, beneath the stone arches, as Evan escorted Jenna to her car.

He looked at me with undisguised contempt.

"I told you I would never marry you. At least today you were spared the humiliation of choosing me."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping as if bestowing a favor.

"If you have regrets, after Jenna and I are married, perhaps I'll convince my mother to give you a place at the Malibu villa. You'll have a nice title, of course, but no matriarchal rights. I've already promised Jenna—only she will bear my children."

Jenna leaned against him, her cheeks flushed.

"Evan, please don't," she murmured, not pulling her hand from his.

Then she looked at me, her gaze timid.

"Marissa, I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to choose my own life, for once. You won't hold it against me, will you?"

Evan pulled Jenna closer.

"Don't worry. As long as I'm by your side, no one will dare oppose you. You'll be Mrs. Astor one day, and everyone—Marissa included—will have to look up to you."