Crazy but sweet

 LOLA’S POV

 I watched as they wheeled Jolie’s grandfather into the room.

 He had that mean look on his face, the kind that made you feel like you owed him money. The man hadn’t even bothered to show up at my wedding with Jolie, yet here he was, acting like a godfather in a mafia movie.

 He positioned himself at the far end of the dining hall, completely ignoring the polite greetings from everyone. He just sat there, stone-faced and radiating arrogance.

 Who does that remind me of?

 Oh, right. Jolie.

 "Wifey," Jolie called, snapping me out of my thoughts.

 I turned, and before I knew it, he was feeding me a spoonful of beef stew. I was caught off guard, but I kept my composure, smiling as if this were completely normal.

 And then—just when I thought he was done—he reached out and used his thumb to wipe something off the corner of my lip.

 "Thanks, love," I said sweetly, throwing in extra charm to make the other couples jealous.

 I turned my gaze away from Jolie, only to realize that everyone was staring.

 Even the mean old grandpa.

 Oh God.

 I quickly looked down at my plate, my heart hammering in my chest.

 Lola, what were you thinking?

 It wasn’t my fault! Jolie didn’t tell me we were supposed to act like we were in love!

 Suddenly, soft music filled the air. The maids arrived, swiftly clearing the table as the guests rose from their seats.

 Everyone moved to the more spacious side of the dining hall, where couples picked up glasses of expensive wine and began chatting in hushed voices. The atmosphere was elegant, refined… and suffocating.

 Jolie and I stood by a large window, the cool night breeze brushing against my skin.

 "You totally threw me off guard back there," I muttered, still recovering from The Spoon Incident.

 "Yeah… whatever," he replied, rolling his eyes.

 Before I could give him a well-deserved eye roll of my own, a voice interrupted us.

 "Mrs. Daviola," a maid called.

 I turned to see her standing politely behind me.

 "Yes?" I asked.

 "Grandfather Daviola wants to see you," she informed me.

 My stomach dropped.

 I exchanged a nervous glance with Jolie.

 "Go ahead," he muttered.

 "But… I’m scared. He looks mean and… arrogant." I grabbed Jolie’s sleeve. "Jolie! Come with me!"

 He chuckled.

 "He wants to see you. Go. Don’t keep him waiting."

 I gulped.

 The maid led me down a quiet hallway, stopping in front of a massive wooden door. She opened it, and I hesitated for a split second before stepping inside.

 The door shut behind me.

 I was in a huge office, lined with shelves overflowing with books. A few golden trophies gleamed under the dim lighting, adding an eerie touch to the already intimidating space.

 Grandfather Daviola sat behind an enormous desk, his sharp eyes studying me like a predator sizing up its prey.

 "Come forward," he said coldly.

 I obeyed instantly, moving toward the desk.

 He gestured to a single chair in front of him.

 Not two. Just one.

 In a normal office, there would be two seats for visitors. Why only one here?

 "So, you’re married to my grandson?" His tone made it clear he wasn’t expecting a yes, more like he was waiting for me to admit I had scammed my way into the family.

 I nodded.

 "Don’t nod when I question you," he snapped.

 Oops. This is bad.

 "I’m sorry, sir. Yes, Jolie Daviola and I—Lola Fayas—are married," I quickly corrected myself.

 "Is he responsible?" he asked.

 I frowned slightly. "What do you mean, sir?"

 "Do you trust him? Is he accountable?"

 "Yes, sir. He is," I replied confidently.

 He let out a chuckle.

 A very unsettling chuckle.

 "Why wouldn’t you say yes?" he asked between his low, threatening laughter.

 I forced a nervous smile. I wasn’t lying! Jolie was responsible—always working, handling business, making decisions.

 "How many wives do I have, Lola?" he asked.

 "One," I replied without hesitation.

 "Good," he said firmly. "I hate separation. It’s like a thorn in my flesh. I would rather bribe my wife to stay than watch my marriage end. And I will not hand over my wealth to someone who cannot keep his family together."

 My pulse quickened.

 "I believe your marriage with Jolie is not a contract," he added.

 "No, sir. It’s a real marriage," I assured him.

 "I know. I made sure of that," he said pointedly.

 My breath hitched.

 "The only thing we’re waiting for now," he continued, "is a baby with you and Jolie’s DNA."

 @@novelbin@@

 My eyes widened.

 "I’m practically handing my wealth over to you because I saw the truth in your eyes back at the dining hall. Under no circumstance should you leave Jolie. Am I understood?"

 I almost nodded, but I quickly corrected myself.

 "Yes, sir. I promise," I said instead.

 He finally smiled.

 "You can go."

 ---

 I returned to the party and went straight to Jolie.

 "Gist me about the conversation later," he muttered under his breath.

 I scoffed.

 Before I could respond, a lady walked up to me.

 "There’s a dirt stain on your dress," she whispered.

 I glanced down, gasped, and turned to Jolie.

 "Excuse me," I murmured, mortified, and rushed off to find the restroom.

 I found a sink, dropped my purse on the counter, and grabbed a tissue. As I looked up at the mirror, I flinched.

 Selen was stepping out of a stall.

 "I didn’t mean to scare you, dear," she said smoothly, approaching the sink beside me.

 "It’s alright," I muttered, focusing on cleaning my dress.

 She turned on the faucet and began washing her hands.

 "How’s Jolie?" she asked casually.

 "He’s fine, of course," I said flatly. "Just don’t come to my house uninvited again."

 She gasped dramatically. "Oh, I’m deeply sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

 I smiled tightly. "It’s okay."

 I finished cleaning the stain, but something felt off.

 How did the stain get there in the first place?

 "Um… your back zipper is down," Selen noted.

 I turned, and she helped zip it up.

 "Thanks," I murmured.

 I quickly left the restroom—I didn’t want Jolie to think I had disappeared. Not that he’d actually look for me… would he?

 As soon as I returned to his side, he groaned.

 "I really want to go home," he whined like a child.

 I chuckled. "Calm down, sir. It’s almost over."

 Suddenly, a sharp voice echoed through the hall.

 "Attention! Miss Selen’s golden pendant has been reported stolen!"

 Murmurs erupted across the room.

 I frowned. How does something even get stolen in a place full of rich people?

 "It’s likely to be stolen by a female, and Miss Selen suspects Lola," the woman announced.

 I flinched.

 What?

 Jolie’s gaze snapped to me.

 "That’s ridiculous! I didn’t steal anything!" I retorted.

 Selen crossed her arms. "Just to be sure, we’ll have to search your purse."

 Brian suddenly grabbed my wrist, attempting to snatch my purse.

 Big mistake.

 Jolie punched him so hard he stumbled back, dazed.

 Within seconds, the atmosphere turned chaotic as Jolie mercilessly beat Brian to a bloody pulp.

 He was finally pulled away, leaving Brian with a busted lip and a face co

vered in blood.

 Jolie turned to me, grabbed my wrist, and stormed out of the house.

 We got into the limousine, the driver speeding off.

 "No one touches you like that but me. Do you understand?" he growled.

 I nodded, stunned.

 I opened my purse—

 And froze.

 Inside… was a golden pendant.

 How did it get there?