The numbers glowed back at her, simple and stark.
A routing number.
An account number.
And finally—
$55,000.00.
Her thumb hovered over the Send button.
This was it.
This was everything she’d come to San Antonio for.
She pressedSend.
And just like that, all fifty-five thousand dollars was gone from her account.
Andie waited for the relief to hit. The triumph. The sense of finally, finally having accomplished what she’d set out to do.
Instead, she just felt...numb.
She lowered the phone to her lap and stared at the wall of the jet’s private bathroom—all marble and brushed gold fixtures, because of course even the bathroom on Paul’s plane looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.
The last few hours felt like a fever dream.
The wedding ceremony, brief and surreal, with Harry and Star crying and their husbands pretending they weren’t. The judge’s voice intoning words that changed everything. Paul’s hand gripping hers like he was afraid she’d disappear again.
The kiss.
That kiss.
And then somehow they were in a car, and then somehow they were at an airport, and then somehow she was walking up the steps of a private jet while a flight attendant welcomed her aboard like this was all perfectly normal.
Like people got married to billionaires they’d known for three days and flew off into the sunset every afternoon.
Her phone buzzed.
A notification from her bank.
Payment received. Transaction complete.
Her chest tightened.
It was done.
The money had arrived.
And now it was time to tell her husband...because she didn’t want to start her marriage with a lie.
Andie tucked her phone into the small clutch she’d been carrying since the courthouse and stepped out of the bathroom.
Paul was waiting in the main cabin, his tall frame silhouetted against the windows. He’d loosened his tie and undone the top button of his shirt, and something about that small dishevelment made her heart do a complicated little flip.
Her husband.
This impossibly beautiful man was her husband.
