Matched to a Billionaire Husband by the DDA

The news anchor's voice, smooth and detached, filled Journey Burch's cramped apartment.

"The Federal Partner Allotment Act enters its final enforcement phase tonight. The Celibacy Tax will be automatically deducted from the accounts of all unregistered single citizens at midnight."

Journey stabbed the power button on the remote.

The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the wheezing groan of the cheap air conditioner unit outside her window.

Her phone screen lit up. A final text from Spencer Knight.

"Journey, it's over. Don't be dramatic. Beatrice and I are a better fit."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. She tossed the phone onto the threadbare sofa. Dramatic? He'd dumped her for a rich girl and had the nerve to call her dramatic.

She flipped open her laptop.

The glowing red number of her bank balance burned her eyes: $217.58.

The Celibacy Tax was twenty percent of her annual income. For a student living on part-time jobs and scholarships, it was a death sentence.

Her phone buzzed again. A video call from her best friend, Kiya Wilcox. Kiya's worried face filled the screen, her neat dorm room a stark contrast to Journey's chaos.

"Are you okay? I saw Spencer's post... that asshole!"

Journey forced a shrug. "I'm fine. Just deciding between selling a kidney or entering that stupid partner lottery."

Kiya gasped. "Are you crazy? It's random! You could get matched with a seventy-year-old or a violent psycho!"

Journey gestured vaguely at her laptop screen. "I don't have a choice, Kiya. I can't afford the tax."

A mandatory pop-up window from the Department of Domestic Affairs filled her computer screen. A ten-minute countdown ticked ominously.

Two options hovered before her: [ACCEPT CELIBACY TAX AGREEMENT] and [ENTER FEDERAL ALLOTMENT LOTTERY POOL].

Her gaze flickered between the two buttons. On the phone, Kiya fell silent, a look of worried resignation on her face.

Journey thought of her father's medical bills, a mountain of debt that crushed her spirit. She couldn't add another burden to her family.

With one minute left, she took a shaky breath.

Her mouse hovered, then clicked.

[ENTER FEDERAL ALLOTMENT LOTTERY POOL].

A progress bar appeared on the screen: "Matching you with your optimal partner..." It felt like a cruel joke.

"What's happening? Who did you get?" Kiya's voice was tight with tension.

Journey shook her head, her heart pounding a frantic, irregular rhythm against her ribs. This was more terrifying than any final exam.

The bar hit 100%.

A simple, electronic file card materialized on the screen. No photo. No name. Just a single line of cold text.

"Congratulations, Ms. Burch. Your federally assigned partner is: ID 1314521."

Journey stared at the string of numbers, a wave of dizziness washing over her.

"What is that? A prison serial number?" Kiya asked, confused.

Journey didn't answer. Her mind was racing. That number... where had she seen it before?

It hit her like a physical blow.

Weeks ago, researching a paper for her economics class, she'd read a Forbes article on the billionaire Dane Beaumont.

The article featured a picture of his private jet. A Gulfstream G700. The tail number, a display of his unique brand of wealth and taste, was flamboyantly registered as "DB-1314521."

DB for Dane Beaumont. And the numbers...

Her fingertips went numb. Her breath caught in her throat. No. It couldn't be. A coincidence. It had to be.

"Journey? Talk to me! Who is that number?" Kiya pressed.

With trembling hands, Journey typed "Dane Beaumont" and "Federal Allotment Lottery" into the search engine.

The first result was a breaking news alert, posted just moments ago.

"SHOCKER! Notorious Bachelor Dane Beaumont Suspected to be in Federal Partner Allotment System!"

A roar filled Journey's ears, and her world turned to black and white.

Dawn's gray light filtered through the dusty blinds, finding Journey exactly where she'd been all night: slumped on the sofa, still in yesterday's clothes.

Her laptop screen was a mosaic of Dane Beaumont's face. The articles called him "Manhattan's Most Committed Bachelor," "The Number One Enemy of Matrimony," and gleefully listed his many public statements mocking the institution of marriage.

In one photo, he stood before the Beaumont Group headquarters, a titan in a perfectly tailored suit. His expression was cold, his eyes holding a power that felt oppressive even through the screen.

A chill ran down Journey's spine. To be partnered with a man like that? He would crush her like an ant.

She couldn't let that happen.

She showered in three minutes, pulled on her most presentable-and only-blouse and a pair of jeans, and grabbed her backpack.

She took the overnight bus from Florida to Washington, D.C., arriving just as the Department of Domestic Affairs (DDA) headquarters opened its doors. The line of people hoping to appeal their matches already snaked around the block.

After three agonizing hours, her number was called. A stone-faced, middle-aged clerk led her to a small, sterile cubicle.

"Hello, I... I'd like to file for an annulment of my pairing," Journey said, her voice shaking as she slid her ID across the counter.

The clerk typed without looking up.

When Journey's file appeared on her screen, the clerk's eyebrows shot up in a rare display of emotion. She looked at Journey, truly looked at her, for the first time. Her eyes held a flicker of disdain, as if she were looking at a fool who'd won the lottery and was trying to return the ticket.

"Ms. Burch," the clerk said, her voice devoid of warmth, "according to the Act, Section 17, Clause 3, all matches, once generated, are legally binding and irrevocable."

"But my match is Dane Beaumont!" Journey pleaded. "It has to be a mistake! A system error!"

The clerk pushed her glasses up her nose. "The system does not make errors. Mr. Beaumont, like you, is an eligible, single citizen. The law is equal for everyone."

Journey's mind raced, searching for a loophole. "What about the background check? The Act says it considers shared backgrounds to improve compatibility. We couldn't be more different!"

The clerk, annoyed, tapped a few keys and turned the monitor towards Journey.

"See here," she said, pointing to a line of text. "The system did take that into account. According to our records, your childhood address and Mr. Beaumont's are both registered to a place called 'Starfish Lane' in Florida."

The words hit Journey like a physical shock. Starfish Lane? That was the single, dusty road in the tiny fishing village where she grew up. How could Dane Beaumont have ever lived there?

Her mind reeled. A different place with the same name? Impossible. The village was too small, too insignificant.

The clerk turned the monitor back around. "Therefore, the system determined a potential 'childhood connection,' granting you an A+ compatibility rating. Application denied. Next!"

Journey found herself back in the hallway, her back pressed against the cold, institutional wall. Despair washed over her.

Every path of resistance was blocked by this absurd "childhood connection."

Outside the DDA building, a black, armored Maybach purred to a stop.

The rear door opened, and a tall man in a dark gray suit emerged. He wore sunglasses, but the cold, powerful aura he projected seemed to lower the temperature of the air around him.

It was Dane Beaumont.

His assistant, Justen Oneal, scurried to his side. "Sir, we're here. Marcus is already waiting upstairs."

Dane said nothing. He just looked up at the DDA's official seal, a cold, unreadable smirk playing on his lips.

He strode into the building, his path intersecting with Journey's as she stumbled out.

A scent, crisp and cold like winter pine, brushed past her nose, making her shiver involuntarily.

She glanced back at the tall figure, but he was already disappearing into a private elevator, leaving only a fleeting silhouette.

Shaking her head, Journey dismissed the feeling. Her mind was consumed by the mystery of Starfish Lane.

She didn't know that the man she had just passed was the other half of her fated disaster.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone. She had to call her dad and ask him about the old days on Starfish Lane.

Dane Beaumont sat in a plush armchair in a top-floor VIP lounge at the DDA, his sunglasses now resting on the polished mahogany table. His deep gray eyes, devoid of any warmth, scanned the report on the "matching incident."

His lawyer, Marcus Sullivan, a meticulously dressed man in a three-piece suit, was delivering his report. "The problem originated with Justen. He forgot to process your quarterly Celibacy Tax payment."

The assistant in question, Justen Oneal, stood rigidly to the side, his face pale, sweat soaking the collar of his shirt. He didn't dare meet Dane's gaze.

Dane's fingers began to tap a soft, rhythmic beat on the tabletop. Each tap was a hammer blow to Justen's heart.

"So, because of your negligence," Dane's voice was low, but it carried the weight of absolute authority, "I, Dane Beaumont, have become the star of a reality show?"

"Boss, I-I..." Justen stammered.

Marcus cut him off, turning to Dane. "The priority now is damage control. I've run a check on the girl, Journey Burch. A community college student from Florida. Clean background, but poor."

Marcus adjusted his glasses, his confidence unwavering. "As you know, sir, initiating the annulment comes with draconian penalties. While the fine is pocket change for you, the law dictates that the initiator will face a lifelong deprivation of political rights, a permanent ban on bank loans, and be blacklisted from high-speed trains and commercial flights. It would ruin your credit score completely."

He paused, his tone turning serious. "More importantly, with your older brother currently running for president, we cannot afford for you to take that hit. It would irreparably damage his campaign. Therefore, I've prepared a settlement agreement for the girl. One million dollars. It's more than enough to ensure her silence and cooperation to be the one who formally initiates the annulment. She has no reason to refuse."

Dane's gaze lingered on the name "Journey Burch" in the report. For a fraction of a second, his expression flickered, but it was gone before Marcus could notice.

"Ms. Kaylynn also called," Marcus continued. "She is... displeased. She advises we handle this quickly, to avoid any impact on your... relationship, and your brother's presidential campaign."

At the mention of Kaylynn Sterling, a flicker of annoyance crossed Dane's brow.

Suddenly, every screen on the room's media wall lit up with the same breaking news alert.

A reporter stood breathlessly outside the DDA building. "We have breaking news! Billionaire Dane Beaumont has officially been matched! However, due to strict DDA confidentiality laws, the identity of the lucky bride remains a heavily guarded secret!"

Instead of a photo, a generic silhouette flashed on the screen, representing the mystery woman who had just turned the nation upside down.

Marcus's face went rigid. The media had moved faster than he'd anticipated, even if they didn't have a name yet.

At that exact moment, Journey stepped out of the DDA building and into a frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting reporters who were swarming the entrance, desperate for any angle on the story.

"Excuse me, miss!" a reporter shouted, thrusting a microphone into Journey's face. Assuming she was just another random citizen exiting the registry, the reporter eagerly asked, "What's your take on the breaking news? Dane Beaumont just got matched! Do you think this mystery girl is the luckiest woman alive?"

"And what about his rumored fiancée, Kaylynn Sterling?" another chimed in. "Do you think this anonymous match is a homewrecker?"

Journey shrank back, her mind went blank.

Just as panic threatened to consume her, two large men in black suits pushed through the media scrum, clearing a path for a third man.

It was Marcus Sullivan. He ignored the reporters, smoothly shielding Journey from the cameras, offering her a practiced, impersonal smile. Lowering his voice so only she could hear, he said, "Ms. Burch. I'm Marcus Sullivan, Mr. Beaumont's attorney. Could we speak somewhere more private?"

Minutes later, Journey found herself in the secluded booth of a nearby café, a document slid in front of her.

"This is a settlement agreement, Ms. Burch," Marcus said smoothly. "Sign it, agree to be the one who formally initiates the annulment application, and this certified check for one million dollars is yours."

Journey's heart skipped a beat as she stared at the number. One million dollars. It would solve everything. Her father's illness. Her family's debt.

For a moment, she wavered. But then she read the clauses. The ones that explicitly required her to be the sole initiator of the annulment. She knew exactly what the law dictated for the person who filed the request: lifelong deprivation of political rights, a permanent ban on taking out loans, and being blacklisted from high-speed trains and flights. Her credit score would be permanently destroyed.

They wanted to buy her off and turn her into a pathetic, greedy fool whose entire future would be paralyzed just to protect his brother's presidential campaign.

"This is the best option for you," Marcus added, sensing her hesitation. "Mr. Beaumont's partner will be Kaylynn Sterling. You should know who she is."

Journey looked up. The panic was gone from her sea-blue eyes, replaced by an icy calm.

She picked up the agreement.

And, under Marcus's disbelieving gaze, she tore it in half.

"Tell your boss," Journey said, her voice steady and clear, "that my future is not for sale."

She stood up and walked out, leaving a stunned Marcus Sullivan staring at the two halves of his perfectly crafted solution.

Marcus's call came through, his voice tight with anger. "Sir, the girl refused!"

Dane's voice was flat. "I know." He hung up.