Chapter 2

The backseat of the Maybach was a tomb. The partition was up, sealing Amaris and Cristian in a soundproof bubble as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows.

Amaris stared at her reflection in the glass. Her makeup was still perfect, a mockery of the bride she was supposed to be. Her fingers found the diamond ring on her left hand, twisting it back and forth until the skin underneath turned red.

Cristian reached over. He didn't say a word. He just pressed a cold bottle of water into her trembling hands.

She took it, her throat tight. Before she could open it, her phone buzzed violently on the seat cushion. The screen lit up with a name: Elijah.

Amaris hesitated. Her thumb hovered over the decline button, but some pathetic, lingering hope made her swipe to answer.

"Where the hell are you?" Elijah's voice exploded through the speaker, raw with fury. "You made a complete fool of me! The Hoffman name is dragging through the mud because of your little stunt!"

Amaris flinched, the phone pressing hard against her ear. "What about Jalyn?" she forced out, her voice hoarse. "You left me for her-"

"Shut up!" Elijah cut her off. "I don't have time for your jealousy. You get back to the apartment right now. I'll handle the press. You'll issue a statement citing a sudden personal health crisis. Blame it on exhaustion. We will postpone, not cancel. This mess needs to be contained, not amplified. Do you hear me?"

Amaris felt the last thread of her hope fraying, the coldness in her chest spreading. But it wasn't dead yet. Not quite.

Then, a chime. A news alert popped down from the top of her screen, overlaying the call timer.

It was a live feed from the Daily Mail. A photo, crystal clear, taken just minutes ago. Elijah was in a sterile hospital corridor, his arms wrapped tightly around a fragile-looking Jalyn Brandt. He was cradling her head against his chest, his face buried in her hair, looking utterly devastated.

The headline screamed: Hoffman Heir Dumps Bride for True Love!

Amaris stared at the screen. She had never seen Elijah look at her like that. Not once in two years. That look was tenderness. That look was love.

Her lungs seized. The phone slipped from her numb fingers, clattering onto the floorboard.

Elijah was still shouting, his tinny voice drifting up from the carpet. "Are you listening to me, Amaris? I swear to God-"

She leaned forward, her hand shaking violently, and pressed the red end-call button. The silence in the car was deafening.

Cristian reached down and picked up the phone. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening. When he looked back at her, his dark eyes were like chips of ice.

"You need legal protection," he said, his voice cutting through her haze. "Now."

Amaris looked at him, her vision blurry. "What?"

"You are currently the laughingstock of the city," Cristian said, his tone brutally matter-of-fact. "And your assets are in danger. If Hoffman wants to hurt you, he'll freeze your trust fund by morning."

The reality hit her like a bucket of ice water. Elijah was vindictive. He would punish her for this. He would take everything.

Cristian shifted, his body angling toward her. "I am offering you a legally binding marriage agreement. It protects you from your mother, from Hoffman, and from bankruptcy. It's not just protection, Amaris. It's retaliation."

Amaris stared at the cold, beautiful stranger beside her. She was a shark, notorious for his lack of feeling. But right now, he was the only life raft in sight.

She nodded, a single, sharp jerk of her chin. "Okay."

The car made a sudden U-turn, heading downtown. Ten minutes later, they were standing in the empty lobby of the Manhattan City Clerk's Office.

It was midnight. The place should have been closed, but a lone clerk was waiting, his face carefully blank, a stack of papers already laid out on the counter.

Cristian's reach was terrifying.

Amaris picked up the pen. Her hand shook so badly the tip scratched across the paper, leaving a jagged line instead of a signature.

Before she could try again, Cristian's large hand covered hers. His palm was still burning hot, his grip steady and firm. He guided her hand, the pen gliding smoothly across the line.

She signed. He signed.

The clerk stamped the certificate with a heavy thud. The sound echoed in the empty room like a gunshot.

Cristian took the certificate, folding it neatly and slipping it into his breast pocket. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.

"Move into my apartment tomorrow," he said. It wasn't a request.

Amaris looked down at the ink on her fingers. She was a married woman. To a man she didn't know.

Her life, as she knew it, was over.