I was halfway to the chair when he moved.
"Elaine."
I stopped because my body did it before my brain could argue. I didn't turn back right away. I needed a second to steady myself, to make sure my voice wouldn't crack when I spoke again.
"What," I said.
Zane didn't answer immediately. I heard the soft scrape of wood, the unmistakable sound of a drawer opening. When I finally looked back, he was holding a stack of papers, thicker than anything I'd expected. He set them down on the desk between us, squared the edges with his palm, then slid them toward me.
"This is the agreement," he said. "Between our families. Between us."
I stared at the papers.
Not him. Not yet.
Slowly, I lowered myself into the chair.
The title alone made my stomach tighten. Legal language. Family names printed in bold. Too official.
"This isn't just… us," I said.
"No," he replied. "It never really was."
I flipped the first page. Then the second. Clauses about public appearances. Joint statements. Reputation management. Financial protections. Penalties if either side broke the terms.
I felt like I was reading someone else's life.
"How long," I asked quietly, eyes still on the page.
Zane leaned back. "As long as necessary."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one that exists."
I swallowed and kept reading.
"This locks Ivy out completely?," I asked.
"Yes."
"And you're fine with that."
"I didn't come here to hesitate ."
I looked up at him then. Really looked.
"This is about Lucas, isn't it."
His jaw tightened. Just barely visible
"That's not something you need to worry about."
Which told me everything.
I closed the folder. My hands were steady, even though my chest felt too tight. "If I sign this, there are conditions."
His brow lifted slightly. "I'm listening."
"I don't answer to you in private," I said. "No controlling where I go. No dictating my life. This marriage is public. Everything else is mine."
He considered that. Not long. Too easily.
"Fine."
"That was quick."
"You're not just asking for freedom," he said. "You're asking for dignity. I don't need to take that from you.
That should've reassured me. It didn't.
I opened the folder again and picked up the pen. It felt heavier than it should have.
I signed on my name.
Each page. Each initial. No dramatic pause. No tears. Just the quiet understanding that I was stepping into something I couldn't undo.
When I slid the papers back to him, my fingers were cold.
Zane signed without hesitation, then gathered the documents and put them back in the drawer like they were nothing more than standard paperwork.
"Tomorrow night," he said. "The gala."
"I know."
"I'll have a dress sent to you."
"No," I said immediately.
He looked up.
"I'll handle it myself."
His gaze flicked over me, slow, assessing, the way it always did. "Your usual choices won't work."
"My clothes or how I dress isn't your concern."
"They are if you're standing beside me."
I stood. Calm and controlled. "You don't get to dress me. This isn't that kind of arrangement."
A beat passed.
"Wear whatever you want," he said. "Just don't embarrass either of us."
I grabbed my bag. "Worry about yourself."
As I walked out, my heart was racing, not from fear, but from the weight of what I'd just agreed to.
The papers were signed.
There was no backing out now.
And for the first time since this started, I wasn't sure which of us had just won.