Chapter 3
Amelia
I checked my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. 9:48 AM. My palms were sweaty despite the cool spring air. What the hell was I doing here? Meeting a stranger to get married? My life had become a bad reality TV show overnight.
At precisely 9:50, a black Mercedes S-Class with deeply tinted windows glided into the lot. It circled once before stopping twenty feet from where I stood. The windows were so dark I couldn't see a thing inside.
For several seconds, nothing happened. Then the rear door opened automatically.
"Get in, Miss Thompson." The voice was deep and controlled, revealing nothing.
I hesitated, my survival instincts screaming that entering strange vehicles with unseen men was how crime documentaries began. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and my mother's inheritance was worth the risk.
Taking a deep breath, I slid into the back seat. The door closed automatically behind me, sealing me in cool, leather-scented darkness. A privacy partition separated me from the driver. Across from me sat a silhouette – the only features I could make out were the outline of broad shoulders and the gleam of eyes watching me intently.
"I'm Ethan Black," the man said. "Everything we discuss stays between us."
"I need a wife," he continued. "You need to secure your inheritance. It's a straightforward transaction."
He leaned forward slightly, and I caught a glimpse of sharp cheekbones and intense eyes. "Before we proceed, you need to sign this." He slid a thick document across the seat.
I picked it up, squinting in the dim light. "A non-disclosure agreement? Seriously?"
"Sign it, or get out of the car. Those are your options."
I hesitated. "Why are you helping me? We've never even met."
"I have my reasons," he replied coldly. "You only need to know this arrangement benefits us both."
My fingers traced the edge of the paper. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't. But considering your court hearing is in three hours and you have no other options, I suggest you make a decision quickly."
Damn it, he was right. I had nothing to lose except my mother's inheritance. Besides, he was someone Grandpa knew, and Grandpa would never harm me. With a resigned sigh, I signed the NDA.
Once the paperwork was complete, the car pulled away, driving us to a secluded entrance of city hall I didn't even know existed. We were quickly ushered into a private office rather than the main registration hall.
A middle-aged clerk waited inside, already prepared with documents.
"This is highly irregular, Mr. Black," the clerk muttered.
"But legal," Ethan countered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
For the first time, in the better light of the office, I got a clear look at my soon-to-be husband. He was taller than I'd expected, with sharp features and penetrating blue eyes that revealed nothing. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, he carried himself with cold authority.
He didn't look at me as he signed the marriage certificate, his signature a decisive slash across the paper.
"Your turn," he said, holding out the pen.
With trembling fingers, I signed my name, officially becoming Mrs. Black in the eyes of the law. The reality of what I was doing hit me like a bucket of ice water.
"The ring," Ethan said suddenly, reaching into his pocket. He produced a simple platinum band with a modest diamond. "My grandfather George insisted."
As he slid the ring onto my finger, our eyes met briefly. No warmth, no emotion – just a business transaction being completed.
The clerk handed me a curious document – a marriage certificate that somehow obscured my husband's details.
"This is a specially processed copy," Ethan explained. "It confirms your married status without revealing specifics. Use this for your court hearing."
Outside in the parking lot, Ethan remained in the black Mercedes while a second, less conspicuous car pulled up.
"I won't be entering the courthouse," he said through the partially lowered window. "Michael will represent me."
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a crisp suit approached us. "Mrs. Black," he nodded politely. "I'm Michael Davis, Mr. Black's legal advisor."
"You'll go to court separately," Ethan continued. "After the hearing, return directly to this parking spot. Make sure you're not followed."
"What about—" I began.
Michael cut in, explaining the strategy. "Only confirm your married status. Refuse to disclose your husband's identity. I'll submit all sensitive documents directly to the judge."
As I turned to leave, Ethan's voice called out from the darkened car interior. "Remember, tell no one about our arrangement."
The courthouse loomed ahead as Michael and I approached separately. My father was already waiting on the steps, looking smug and confident.
I walked past them without another word, feeling Michael's presence several steps behind me, monitoring everything.
In the small hearing room, only the judge, a court clerk, my father, and I were present. The air felt thick with tension.
"Your Honor," Robert began confidently, "my daughter remains unmarried and therefore the inheritance should remain under my management."
The judge turned to me. "Miss Thompson, what is your response to these allegations?"
"I am married, Your Honor," I replied, presenting the special marriage certificate. "This confirms my current status."
My father snatched the document before the judge could take it. "This is clearly fabricated! The husband's details are conveniently illegible!"
Robert's face flushed with anger. "Who is this supposed husband? Why isn't he here? Because he doesn't exist!"
Michael stepped forward. "Your Honor, I'm here representing Mrs. Black's interests. For privacy reasons, we have prepared a sealed file with complete documentation for your review only."
The judge nodded and retreated to his chambers with the file. The minutes stretched painfully as we waited. Robert paced the floor, occasionally shooting venomous glares my way.
When the judge returned, his expression was impassive. "I have reviewed the documentation. The marriage appears valid and legally binding."
"Impossible!" Robert exploded. "Who is she married to? I demand to know!"
"Mr. Thompson," the judge responded sternly, "your daughter's right to privacy is protected by law. The identity of her spouse is irrelevant to these proceedings. What matters is her legal status, which is now confirmed as married."
The judge then ruled that the inheritance would pass to my control, though Robert immediately announced his intention to appeal.
Outside the courthouse, Robert grabbed my arm as I descended the steps.
"I don't know what game you're playing," he hissed, "but I'll find out who this mystery husband is. When I do, this farce will collapse."
I pulled my arm free. "You've already destroyed our family. You won't take what Mom left for me."
I walked away, careful to take a circuitous route back to the meeting point, checking repeatedly to ensure I wasn't followed. The black Mercedes was waiting exactly where promised.
I knocked on the window, and it lowered slightly. Ethan's expression was even more severe than before.
"According to our contract," he said without preamble, "you'll move into my residence tonight. Michael will text you the address."
"Tonight?" I gasped. "But I have work and—"
Before I could finish, the window closed and the car pulled away, leaving me standing alone in the parking lot, officially married to a stranger who couldn't even bear to look at me.