“Me.”
I stepped fully into the light, letting her see the rings on my finger — his mother’s emerald and the new wedding band glinting side by side.
Her gaze darted from the rings to Ben, then back to me, calculating.
“This is a joke. A sham. You two threw together some courthouse farce at the last second.”
Ben’s mouth curved faintly.
“Our marriage is hardly a farce.”
Vivian laughed, high and brittle.
“Please. It’s a business arrangement at best. That clause requires a legally recognized spouse, not some desperate gold-digger he paid to sign a piece of paper. When my lawyers finish with you, the courts will laugh this so-called marriage right out of existence.”
I tilted my head.
“You seem awfully sure this isn’t real.”
“Because it can’t be,” she snapped. “No one could possibly love that scarred, broken monster. You’re using each other, nothing more. And everyone will see it.”
The word monster echoed off the marble, ugly and deliberate. Ben didn’t flinch, but I felt the blow land on him all the same.
Keep right on talking, Vivian, I thought. Every word is being recorded.
I smiled, slow and sharp.
“Wrong again, I’m afraid.”
Her bravado flickered, just for a second.
I reached into the inner pocket of my blazer and pulled out a crisp photocopy of the marriage license, holding it up between two fingers.
“Signed this afternoon in the solarium,” I said pleasantly. “Filed with the Baldwin County Courthouse an hour later. Officiant, witnesses, the whole legal package. The original is already locked in the safe, by the way — you won’t be ripping that one up.”
Vivian snatched at it. I lifted it higher, out of her reach.
She scanned the page anyway, lips moving as she read the names, the date, the official seal. Her face drained of color, then flushed crimson with rage.
“This is forgery,” she hissed. “Or coercion. Or both. No judge will uphold it.”
“Feel free to waste your money on lawyers,” Ben said quietly. “They’ll tell you the same thing ours did: it’s ironclad.”
Vivian’s manicured hands curled into fists.
“You think a piece of paper changes anything? That clause was written to force Benjamin to grow up, not to let him buy himself a convenient wife at the eleventh hour.”
I folded the photocopy and slipped it back into my pocket.
“Funny. It doesn’t say anything about love or convenience. Just a legally recognized spouse. Which I am.”
Her eyes blazed.
“You’re nothing but a transaction.”
I smirked.
“You seem awfully sure of yourself for a woman without a legal leg to stand on.”
