JOAN’S POV
The next day, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone. Notifications flooded the screen. My phone buzzed so much I thought it might actually explode. My name was plastered across every news article, headline, and gossip column: The mysterious Joan Hathaway-The Cinderella Bride of Derrick Stonewood.
It felt surreal. A part of me wanted to smile, to feel special, but the amount of hate pouring into my inbox shattered any feeling of happiness I wanted to have. I got a lot of hate messages in my Instagram message box. Don’t even get me started on the comments.
“You don’t deserve him.”
“Gold digger.”
“He could do so much better.”
And the worst-death threats.
I sighed and opened Instagram, immediately setting my page to private again. The comments there were worse. I received a lot of rage from strangers who thought they knew me.
A knock on the door startled me.
“Come in,” I called, quickly putting my phone down.
The door opened and Emily popped her head in. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“Joan!” she exclaimed, rushing over.
I managed a small smile as she flung her arms around me.
“Congratulations!” she squealed, pulling back to admire the ring on my finger.
I glanced at the diamond. The ring was beautiful. I had to remind myself of my reality. This wasn’t a fairytale. This was a contract.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“You’re everywhere,” she gushed. “Every blog, every article, every TV channel. You’re the talk of the world!”
“I noticed,” I muttered, glancing at my phone again.
Emily sat beside me. Her expression turned serious again “You’re not looking at the comments, are you?”
“I couldn’t avoid them even if I tried.”
She frowned. “People are jealous. That’s all. Don’t let them get to you. You’re amazing, Joan.”
Before I could respond, the door swung open again. Sarah stepped in with a cleaning rag in one hand and a bucket in the other. She rolled her eyes the moment she saw Emily hugging me.
“Ugh,” Sarah muttered, setting the bucket down with an unnecessary thud. “Congratulations, Joan. Or should I say Mrs. Stonewood?”
Her tone dripped with sarcasm, but I forced a polite smile. “Thanks, Sarah.”
Sarah smirked. “I’m here to clean. Don’t mind me.”
Before the tension could thicken, Ms. Sullivan walked in with a huge smile.
“Joan,” she said, her voice kind as always. She walked over and enveloped me in a motherly hug.
“Congratulations, dear,” she said, pulling back to look at me with genuine affection. “This is such a big step.”
“Thank you, Ms. Sullivan,” I said, feeling a lump rise in my throat.
She glanced at my ring and smiled “I know this is a contract, but life is full of surprises. You never know what might happen. Make the best of this opportunity, Joan. You deserve happiness.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I will. And thank you for always being here for me.”
“Always,” she assured me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
Meanwhile, Emily couldn’t stop fawning over the wedding.
“Do you think I could be a bridesmaid?” she asked in excitement.
I laughed. “Of course, Emily. It’s my wedding, and I get to choose.”
Emily squealed again and hugged me tightly.
Sarah, however, wasn’t amused. “A maid as a bridesmaid at a billionaire’s wedding? Seriously?”
Emily’s smile faltered, and she looked down with disappointment.
“Sarah,” I said firmly.
“What?” Sarah snapped. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. It’s ridiculous.”
“Enough,” Ms. Sullivan interjected “There’s no need for such negativity.”
Sarah scoffed, throwing her rag into the bucket. “You know what? Fuck this.”
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Emily looked at me with glistening eyes. I could tell that Sarah’s words hurt her “Maybe she’s right…”
I shook my head, taking her hands in mine. “No, she’s not. You’re my friend, Emily, and if I want you as my bridesmaid, that’s what’s going to happen.”
Her face lit up again, and she hugged me tightly. “Thank you, Joan. You’re the best.”
Ms. Sullivan smiled gently at us. “Don’t let people like Sarah ruin this moment for you, Joan. Focus on the people who truly care about you.”
I nodded.
As the room quieted down, I looked out the window. My thoughts drifted to Derrick.
How did he feel about this?
Did he know how overwhelming this was for me? Did he care?
The diamond on my finger sparkled in the sunlight. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had laid eyes on.
Despite everything, I couldn’t stop my heart from aching for something more-something real.
–
The hum of my small sewing machine filled the room as I worked on repairing an old dress. The rhythmic motion calmed me. Sewing had always been my escape-a way to lose myself in something,
I didn’t hear the door creak open, but Emily’s voice broke through my concentration.
“Joan!” she called out in an excited tone.
I looked up, setting the fabric aside. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes sparkled as she motioned for me to follow her. “Sir Derrick told me to show you something. You’ve got to see this!”
I frowned, wiping my hands on a cloth. “What is it?”
“Just come on,” she urged, practically bouncing on her heels.
I stood. At this point, I was curious. I followed her down the corridor. Emily led me to a door I hadn’t paid much attention to before. She stopped in front of it with a wide grin spreading across her face.
“Go on,” she said, nodding toward the door.
I hesitated, then pushed it open.
The sight before me stole the breath from my lungs. The room was enormous. Its walls were lined with shelves of neatly organized fabrics in every color and texture imaginable. Multiple sewing machines gleamed in the room. Their surfaces were spotless and new. Mannequins stood in one corner, ready to be dressed, while racks of tools-scissors, rulers, needles, and measuring tapes-lined another wall.
It wasn’t just a sewing room. It was a dream studio.
I took a step inside. My hand brushed over the smooth surface of a worktable. My fingers trembled as I picked up a roll of fine satin. Its texture felt like liquid under my touch.
“Emily,” I breathed, turning to her. “Who… who did this?”
She leaned against the doorframe with a smile “Sir Derrick. He planned this for you. For a long time, apparently.”
I stared at her in disbelief “Derrick? He…he did this?”
Emily nodded. “Yep. He must have figured out how much you love sewing. Told me to bring you here today.”
I looked at the room again. How did he know? I hadn’t mentioned my love for sewing to him. For someone who always acted so distant, Derrick had noticed more than I thought.
A lump formed in my throat as I walked further into the room. This wasn’t just a gesture. This was understanding. This was care.
“He didn’t say anything to me about this,” I murmured, more to myself than to Emily.
Emily shrugged. “You know how he is. All brooding and mysterious. But he clearly pays attention.”
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. For a man who often seemed cold and indifferent, Derrick had a way of surprising me when I least expected it.
I ran my hands over the worktable again, the reality of it all sinking in. This wasn’t just a studio. It was mine.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I turned to Emily. “This is… I don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect.”
She beamed. “I knew you’d love it. He really went all out, didn’t he?”
I nodded. I was still too overwhelmed to form coherent words.
After exploring every corner of the studio, touching the fabrics and marveling at the tools, I finally stepped back into the hallway. Emily gave me a quick hug before heading off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I didn’t see Derrick for the rest of the day, though I found myself wishing I could thank him properly.
That evening, as I entered my room, something small and elegant caught my eye on the bedside table. A velvet box sat there, tied with a satin ribbon.
Curious, I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a beautifully crafted sewing kit, complete with high-quality threads, fine needles, and small swatches of luxurious fabric. There was a note inside that read “Always follow your dreams”
I knew it was from Derrick.
I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the gift in my hands.
For all his gruffness, Derrick had shown me kindness in a way I hadn’t expected. He didn’t say much, but his actions spoke volumes.
I traced the delicate patterns on the sewing kit. I’d never felt this happy before.
Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than I’d given him credit for.
And maybe…just maybe, there was a chance for something more between us.