Page 43 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

MINA

I woke up with a jolt, my stomach lurching violently.

The room spun as I bolted upright, clutching the sheets.

I barely made it to the bathroom before I was doubled over the toilet, heaving.

My throat burned, and my eyes watered as I gripped the edge of the sink for support.

This was becoming a routine—one I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to.

The door creaked open behind me, and Tori’s soft voice broke through the haze of nausea. “Morning, mama,” she said, her tone light but laced with concern. “Brought you something.”

I groaned, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before flushing the toilet. “Is it a new stomach?” I croaked, leaning against the cool tile wall. “This one no longer works right.”

She set a tray on the counter, with a steaming mug of ginger tea and a small plate of saltine crackers. “You’re going to need these,” she said, handing me a cracker. “Eat it slow. Like a little chipmunk.”

I nibbled on the cracker and swallowed. It soaked up some of the acid in my churning stomach, making me feel slightly better.

Tori leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me like a hawk. “Hey, at least you’re glowing.”

“Glowing?” I muttered, taking a cautious sip of the tea. The warmth spread through me, easing some of the tension in my chest. “I feel like roadkill.”

“That’s the miracle of motherhood,” she said with a grin. “You should’ve seen my sister when she was pregnant. She looked like the walking dead by the third trimester. But hey, she’s good now. No PTSD or anything.”

I managed a weak smile, though the thought of months more of this made my stomach churn again. It wasn’t just the nausea. “Right,” I said softly, staring down at the tea. “Totally worth it.”

“You’re going to be okay, Mina,” she said with a laugh. “You’re creating a life. There’s gonna be some ups and downs.”

I groaned. “So far, most of the ups are me throwing up.”

“Still thinking about six kids?”

“I would throw this cracker at you if I didn’t need it so badly,” I told her.

Tori laughed. “You’re doing great.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steady myself. “I don’t know about that,” I whispered.

I didn’t know how I was going to keep this from Isaac.

There was no way we could have sexy sleepovers.

He would freak out if he saw me puking in the morning.

The poor guy was traumatized after the whole appendicitis thing.

After the incident the other day at the tasting, he was going to be on high alert.

“Finish that tea and get dressed. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

I groaned again but obeyed. The morning sickness had struck with a vengeance about three days ago. I had really thought it was just the stress of the wedding planning. Unfortunately not.

After finishing my tea, it was like I had consumed a magic potion. I felt like I had never been sick at all. I stepped into the shower and thought about the day ahead of me. I thought about my wedding. I was going to be married and a mom all within the year.

That was what would get me through the morning sickness. That’s what I was going to focus on when I was staring into the toilet and losing my breakfast.

I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. Tori was waiting with a ginger ale that included a lemon wedge to make it just a little fancier. I smiled and took the drink. “Thank you.”

“I’ve made you toast,” she said. “The cook wanted to make you an omelet?—”

“No,” I groaned. “No eggs.”

She laughed. “I know. Toast. An hour or so and we’ll go with a BLT?”

“Yes. Thank you. I don’t know how you know all this but thank you.”

“My sister went through it. But I’ve got you. The planners will be here soon.”

I nodded. “I’m ready. I’m glad to have the help. I don’t know why I thought I could do all of this. I mean, you and me. This requires professional help.”

Planning the wedding had taken on a new kind of energy now that everything was officially booked.

Between me and Isaac, we had done the bulk of the work, but I was worried we had rushed through things.

We were bound to overlook details. And details mattered.

We had the venue, the Duvall Estate. We picked the photographer and the food.

I felt equal parts excited and overwhelmed.

Things were coming together. We were going to pull off a big wedding in a matter of weeks.

Something that would take months or more than a year for other people to plan.

But we were determined. And we had the money to make it happen. Money and influence. I felt a little guilty about using our family names to pull this off. But we’d find a way to repay whatever good karma we were borrowing.

Tori had work to do, which left me alone with the planning team.

She promised to pop back in before lunch.

I walked into the drawing room where my planning team was waiting for me.

The room had been temporarily transformed into wedding HQ.

Samples of linens, candles, floral mock-ups, and place settings were everywhere.

“So,” the lead planner, Lucia, said with a warm smile, “you wanted romantic, soft, and airy.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “We’re thinking an outdoor ceremony on the south lawn where the magnolia trees frame the aisle. The reception would move into the ballroom with doors open to the patio for a seamless transition.”

Lucia nodded. “Okay. That sounds good. What else?”

I thought about it. “Dim lighting, live music. Something like gentle jazz during cocktail hour, something more upbeat later?”

Lucia’s assistant was using one of those digital pens to write everything down on the iPad she was holding.

“I want it to feel like a dream,” I went on. “I want it to look like something out of a vintage romance movie but not overproduced. I still want it to feel personal.”

Lucia smiled. “We love that vision. We can use blush-toned florals, floating candles, and silk runners with antique silver candelabras. It’ll look like the pages of an editorial spread.”

I sighed happily and glanced out the window to the grounds, picturing it all. I could see me walking down the aisle in my dress, Isaac waiting at the altar. The thought warmed my chest.

He’d been so sweet at the food tasting a few days ago, hovering with a hand on my back while I dry-heaved over a ridiculous plate of duck.

The man brought me ginger ale, Tums, and a cool cloth like he’d been doing this his whole life.

For a split second, I’d nearly told him about the baby right then and there.

But I hadn’t.

And now, here I was, sitting in the middle of a fantasy wedding brainstorm, chewing the inside of my cheek with guilt. How could I be designing candle clusters while keeping something so important from him? He’d been so clear—he wanted a family. A life with me. A baby wouldn’t scare him off. Right?

Still, I didn’t want to drop that kind of bomb between menu tastings and seating charts. A wedding night surprise would be perfect. We’d be in our own little bubble of celebration and love. It would feel right then.

Lucia and her team moved on to discussing the floral arrangements, pulling out swatches of fabric and color palettes to match the vision I’d described. I leaned forward, running my fingers over a sample of blush silk, imagining it draped over the tables with soft candlelight flickering against it.

Isaac and I had done a lot of the groundwork, but these guys could pull it all together. They could pick the right shades of the colors we were leaning toward.

“You want peonies?” Lucia asked.

“Yes. That’s important to me.”

She nodded. “We can pair them with garden roses, and eucalyptus for the centerpieces,” Lucia said, holding up a mock-up of a floral arrangement. “It’s romantic but not too heavy. And we can scatter smaller arrangements along the aisle for the ceremony.”

I nodded, picturing it. “Yes, that’s perfect. And maybe some fairy lights strung through the trees? Something subtle but magical.”

“Absolutely,” Lucia said, jotting down notes. “We’ll make sure it feels like you’re walking through a dream.”

“That’s the word. Dreamy. Ethereal. Magical and mystical.”

The assistant handed me a tablet with a digital rendering of the ballroom setup.

The tables were arranged in a semi-circle around the dance floor, with the head table elevated slightly at the front.

The mock-up showed the silk runners and candelabras I’d mentioned, with soft light spilling across the room.

“This is beautiful,” I said, scrolling through the images. “But can we add more greenery? Maybe some ivy trailing down from the chandeliers?”

“Of course,” Lucia said with a smile. “We’ll make it lush but not overwhelming.”

As we moved on to discussing the menu cards and place settings, I could barely control my excitement. They were taking my vision and making it real. The assistant handed me the tablet with the changes once again. I almost cried when I saw it.

“This is perfect,” I said. “I could see it so clearly in my head, and you’ve made it come to life.”

“That’s what we do,” Lucia said.

“Oh, I just got the guest list,” the assistant said.

“Good,” Lucia said. “Just one last check before we send it for printing. We’ll start on the place cards next week.”

I took the list with a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’ll scan through it—just in case my dad added another one of his finance buddies from Zurich or someone I’ve never met in my life.”

My eyes drifted down the page, noting familiar names. Friends, family, a few celebrities and business partners. But then I saw it.

Sampson Blake.

Everything inside me went cold.

“Wait… what?” I whispered, tapping the screen. “Why is his name on here?”

Lucia frowned, peeking over. “It was already on the list when we received it from your father’s office.”

White-hot fury rolled through me. I didn’t know what the hell my father was doing, but it was not going to happen. It was my wedding.

“Excuse me,” I said tightly, already marching out of the room.

I found my father in the foyer, dressed in a navy suit, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror. He was reaching for his briefcase when I stormed up to him.

“You invited Sampson to my wedding?” I barked. “Are you out of your mind?”

Dad looked up, clearly caught off guard. “What? No, of course not. Why would I?”

“His name is on the guest list, Dad,” I said, my voice rising. “The final guest list that your office sent to the planners.”

He blinked. “Wait, let me see that.”

I held it out. He adjusted his glasses and squinted. “Mina, this list was compiled months ago. Back before everything…”

“Exactly,” I snapped. “So why wasn’t it updated? Why is he still on it?”

“I forgot,” he said with a sigh, lowering the list. “I meant to remove him. After I spoke to Isaac…”

I froze. “What do you mean, after you spoke to Isaac?”

Dad scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “At the summer party. He pulled me aside and gave me a bit of an earful for including Sampson on the guest list. Told me I needed to stop pushing you to forgive someone who didn’t deserve it. He… he educated me, let’s say.”

I stared at him, stunned.

“I’d already decided to leave Sampson out,” he continued, more softly now. “I just forgot to update the list. That’s on me, and I’m sorry. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

I blinked. “Wait—you’re apologizing?”

“I am,” he said simply. “You were right. I mishandled everything after your last engagement fell apart. I was more concerned with reputation than with your feelings. And that wasn’t fair. You deserved better from me.”

My eyes welled unexpectedly. I didn’t realize just how much I’d been needing to hear those words from him. Maybe part of me had accepted that I’d never get them. But here he was, trying. Finally.

“I appreciate that, Dad,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

He nodded. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About you. About the choices I’ve made. I know I haven’t always been the father you needed, but I’m trying to do better. For you. For us.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “Thank you,” I managed to say. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You’re my daughter, Mina. My only child. And I want you to be happy. If Isaac makes you happy, then that’s all that matters to me.”

I nodded, tears spilling over as I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. I blamed my emotions on the pregnancy.

“You better get back in there,” Dad said. “Finish planning the wedding of your dreams.”