Chapter 2

Eloise POV

The fluorescent lights of the City Hall clerk's office buzzed with an irritating, intermittent drone, like a fly in its death throes. It was a stark contrast to the gold-leafed ballroom I had just left, but the air here felt cleaner.

Less suffocating.

Alphons stood beside me, signing the marriage license with a heavy, deliberate hand. The pen looked absurdly fragile in his grip, like a twig waiting to snap. He signed his name in black ink, a sharp, jagged signature that looked more like a scar than a word.

"Sign," he ordered, sliding the paper toward me.

I picked up the pen. My hand hovered for a fraction of a second. This wasn't the fairytale. This was a business merger. It was a hostile takeover. I was signing away my freedom to a man who was rumored to have cut a man's tongue out for interrupting him at dinner.

But the alternative was being the pitied ex-fiancée of Holden Callahan. The girl who wasn't sick enough to keep him.

I signed. Eloise Bowers.

The clerk stamped the document with a heavy thud. It sounded like a gavel sentencing me to life.

"Done," Alphons said. He didn't smile. He didn't kiss me. He took the certificate, folded it, and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket, right next to where I knew he kept his gun. "You are under my protection now. You go to my house. My guards will collect your things."

"I need to go home first," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline crashing through my system. "I need to face him when he comes back."

Alphons looked at me. For a second, I saw something flicker in his dark eyes. Respect? Or maybe just amusement at a bug fighting a windstorm.

"One hour," he said. "If you are not out, I come in. And if I come in, I burn the house down."

I took an Uber back to the estate I had shared with Holden, the silence of the car giving me time to harden my heart. It was a sprawling mansion in Lake Forest, paid for by Woodward blood money.

I was packing my jewelry into a velvet case when the front door slammed open.

"Eloise!"

Holden.

He stormed into the bedroom, his tie undone, his hair a mess. He looked frantic, manic. The smell of hospital antiseptic clung to him like a second skin.

"Where were you?" he demanded, pacing the room. "I called you ten times. Jaidyn... it was a false alarm, thank God. Just stress. Her heart is so fragile, El. You know that."

I didn't look up from my jewelry box. I snapped the lid shut.

"I'm glad she's okay," I said. My voice was flat. Dead.

"Why are you packing?" He stopped, staring at the suitcase on the bed. A laugh bubbled up from his throat, high and hysterical. "You're overreacting. It was an emergency. I couldn't just let her die on the floor. You're being jealous."

"Jealousy implies I want what someone else has," I said, turning to face him. "I don't want you, Holden. Not anymore."

He flinched. "You're angry. I get it. We'll reschedule the wedding. Next month. Once Jaidyn is stable."

"There is no wedding next month," I said. "I'm already married."

Holden froze. The color drained from his face, leaving him looking like a wax figure.

"What?"

"I fixed your mistake," I said, walking past him toward the door. "I secured the alliance. I married the Don."

Holden grabbed my arm. His grip was hard, bruising. It was the first time he had ever touched me in anger.

"You're lying," he hissed. "Alphons wouldn't. He knows you're mine."

"I was never yours," I said, looking down at his hand on my arm until he released me, stung by my coldness. "I was an obligation. And you failed."

"You did this to hurt me," he shouted, following me into the hallway. "You did this out of spite!"

"I did this to survive," I said. I opened the front door.

Outside, a fleet of black SUVs was idling in the driveway. Alphons was leaning against the hood of the lead car, smoking a cigarette. He looked like a shadow detached from the night.

Holden saw him and stopped dead in the doorway.

"He's my brother," Holden whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of betrayal and fear.

"He's your boss," I corrected.

I walked down the steps. The night air was cold, but as I approached Alphons, I felt a strange, radiating heat. He threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot.

He opened the car door for me.

"Did he touch you?" Alphons asked. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Holden, who was cowering in the doorway.

"No," I lied. I didn't want blood on my wedding night. Not yet.

Alphons nodded once. "Get in."

I slid into the leather seat. As the car pulled away, I watched Holden in the rearview mirror. He looked small. Insignificant.

But I saw the look in his eyes before we turned the corner. It wasn't just sadness.

It was madness.