“Do you, Lena Hughes, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The silence stretched.One heartbeat.Two.
I could say no.I could walk out of here right now, refuse to play his game, refuse to let another man control my fate.
And I would lose the hotel.Lose the staff who depended on me, the legacy I had fought to protect, the identity I had built when my father saw only a disappointment.
I thought of Marjorie’s face this morning.Braver than he deserved.
“I do.”
My voice didn’t shake.I held onto that like a victory.
“The rings, please.”
Raphael turned to face me, and since the courthouse steps, our eyes met.His were dark.Intent.Searching for surrender in my expression that I refused to give him.
He took my left hand in his.His fingers were warm, his grip gentle, and I hated how my skin sparked at the contact.Hated the way my pulse jumped when he slid the ring onto my finger with aching slowness, his thumb brushing across my knuckles like a caress.Like he had the right to touch me tenderly.Like this was real.
The platinum was cold and heavy and wrong.
“With this ring,” he said, his voice pitched low enough that only I could hear, “I thee wed.”
I wanted to rip it off.Wanted to throw it in his face and run.Instead, I stood frozen, that alien weight settling onto my hand like a brand.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Terror.That was what jolted through me at the judge’s words.Terror and anticipation tangled together in a way that made me sick.I forced myself not to step back, not to show weakness, even as Raphael leaned toward me.
His lips brushed my cheek.Just my cheek.A whisper of contact that sent heat blooming across my skin despite myself.
“Later,” he murmured against my ear, so quietly only I heard.
Promise or threat.The word hung between us, heavy with possibility.
Then he pulled back, and the judge was smiling her professional smile and gesturing toward the paperwork on her desk.
“If you’ll both sign here.”
I walked to the desk on legs that didn’t feel like mine.The pen was heavy in my hand as I looked down at the marriage certificate.A box for my signature.
Clara’s strategy whispered through me.The long game.
I signed.Watched my handwriting turn me into someone else.
This is the beginning of the end for him.
Raphael added his signature beside mine, his penmanship elegant and unhesitating.He had no idea what he was signing.
“Congratulations,” the judge said.“You’re married.”
The words hit me like a slap.I was married.To him.Until death did us part, or until I found a way to burn his world to ash.
Preferably the second.
The spring air was too bright when we stepped outside, too warm, too beautiful for what had just happened.I stood on the courthouse steps and blinked at the sunshine like a prisoner emerging from underground.The world looked exactly the same as it had an hour ago.It did not care that I had just signed away my name.
“Welcome to the family, dear.”
