The heavy mahogany doors of the penthouse foyer swung open with a finality that made the air in the room feel thin. Arthur Vane walked in first, his cane striking the marble floor with a rhythmic, menacing thud-thud-thud. Behind him, two men in sharp, charcoal suits carried briefcases like they were transporting live ammunition.
Silas stepped in front of me, a subtle shift of his weight that signaled he was moving into a defensive stance. I stood my ground, my fingers still tingling from where he had touched them moments before. I was still wearing the emerald-colored gown, the heavy silk a stark contrast to the cold, legal atmosphere that had just invaded our sanctuary.
"Grandfather," Silas said, his voice clipped. "It's late for a social call. I assume the press didn't give you enough of a show tonight?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately. He moved toward the center of the lounge, looking around the room as if he were inspecting a battlefield. He finally turned to face us, his eyes as hard as flint.
"The show was impressive," Arthur rasped. He gestured to the lawyers, who began laying out documents on the glass-topped coffee table. "The video was a disaster, but the girl's response... that was a stroke of genius. You've successfully convinced the public that you're a pair of star-crossed rebels. But I didn't build this empire on public opinion, Silas. I built it on the fine print."
I stepped around Silas, refusing to be hidden. "If you're here to talk about the 'sham' marriage, Mr. Vane, I think I made my position clear at the museum. We are legally wed. The merger is moving forward. What more do you want?"
Arthur's gaze shifted to me, a flicker of something like grim amusement in his eyes. "You have spirit, Evelyn. I like spirit. But I also have a board of directors who are currently screaming for Silas's head because they think he's been led around by his... impulses. They don't believe in 'partnerships.' They believe in control."
He tapped the black folder on the table. "I've had my legal team scouring the trust all evening, looking for a way to insulate the company from this scandal. And they found something. A clause my own father put in forty years ago that I had almost forgotten."
Silas walked to the table, his eyes scanning the documents. "What clause?"
"The Co-Dependency Clause," one of the lawyers spoke up, his voice dry and clinical. "It states that in the event of a 'publicly questioned union' involving the primary heir, the transfer of voting shares is not merely dependent on the marriage license. It is dependent on a co-signed financial audit of both parties' assets, conducted over a six-month period of shared residence. But there's a catch."
The lawyer looked at Silas, then at me. "The shares only transfer if the spouse in this case, Mrs. Vane is given a permanent, non-revocable seat on the Board of Directors with a ten-percent stake in the company's architecture and development division."
The room went dead silent.
I felt the world tilt. A ten-percent stake in Vane International? That was more than just a "settlement." That was real power. That was the kind of wealth that could buy and sell the Millers ten times over. It would make me one of the most powerful women in the country.
"You're giving her a seat on the board?" Silas's voice was dangerously low.
"I'm not giving it to her," Arthur barked. "The trust is. It was designed to ensure that the Vane heir married someone who was actually invested in the company, not just a warm body to fill a tuxedo. If she's your 'partner,' as you told the press, then she has to be a partner in the boardroom, too. If she refuses, or if you refuse to sign the stake over to her, the shares revert to Julian and Marcus tomorrow morning."
Silas turned to me. The look in his eyes was unreadable, a mixture of shock, calculation, and something that looked suspiciously like betrayal. He had brought me in as a pawn, a "clean" variable. Now, the variable was his equal.
"So," Arthur said, leaning on his cane. "What's it going to be? Does the 'star-crossed' bride want her seat at the table? Or was this all just a very expensive piece of theater?"
I looked at the papers. I looked at the pen the lawyer was holding out.
If I signed this, I wasn't just Silas's wife for a year. I was his business partner for life. I would be tied to the Vane empire in a way that no divorce could ever fully undo. I would have the power to save my father's legacy, but I would also be in the direct line of fire for every enemy Silas had ever made.
"Evelyn," Silas said, his voice a warning.
I ignored him. I walked to the table and picked up the pen. I thought about Mark Miller's smirk. I thought about my father's shaking hands. And then I thought about the way Silas had looked at me when he dipped me on the dance floor.
"If I'm going to be a Vane," I said, looking Arthur directly in the eye, "I'm not doing it from the sidelines. I want the seat. And I want the stake."
I leaned over and signed my name in a bold, sweeping script.
The lawyers immediately turned the papers toward Silas. He hesitated for a heartbeat, his jaw working as he processed the loss of absolute control. Then, with a sharp, violent motion, he signed his name next to mine.
"There," Silas spat. "Are you satisfied, Grandfather?"
"For now," Arthur said, signaling the lawyers to pack up. "But remember, children. The audit begins tomorrow. They'll be checking your bank accounts, your emails, and your bedsheets. If this is a fake, I will find out. And I will burn the Vance name to the ground along with yours."
Arthur turned and walked out, his legal team trailing behind him like a funeral procession.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Silas didn't look at me. He walked to the window, staring out at the city he no longer fully owned.
"You took the deal," he said, his back to me.
"I took the security, Silas. You would have done the same."
"I invited you into my life to help me secure my legacy, not to take a piece of it." He turned around, and the "Vulture" was back, his eyes cold and sharp. "Is this what you wanted all along? Did you see that video as an opportunity to squeeze me for more?"
The accusation stung like a slap. "I didn't even know that clause existed until five minutes ago! I did what I had to do to protect the firm. If the shares went to Julian, Vance Architects would have been liquidated by noon."
"Maybe," Silas said, stepping closer. "Or maybe you're just a better player than I gave you credit for. You've gone from a jilted bride to a billionaire board member in seventy-two hours. That's a hell of a career move, Evelyn."
"Don't talk to me about career moves," I snapped, the heat of the evening finally boiling over. "I didn't ask for this. I asked for a way to save my father. You're the one who dragged me into your family's psychotic inheritance games."
I turned to walk away, but Silas grabbed my arm. He didn't pull me back, but he didn't let go either. The air between us was electric, charged with a mixture of anger and the undeniable pull that had been building since the hallway.
"The audit starts tomorrow," he whispered. "They're going to be in this house, Evelyn. Every day. They're going to be looking for proof that this is a real marriage."
"Then we'll give them proof," I said, my heart pounding.
"You don't understand," Silas said, his gaze dropping to my lips. "A co-signed audit means we can't just have separate wings anymore. We have to share a room. We have to share a life. They'll be checking for 'consistency' in our routines."
"I know what it means."
Silas let go of my arm, but he didn't move away. He looked at me for a long, quiet moment, and I realized that the contract we had just signed wasn't a shield at all. It was a tether.
"Then I guess you'd better move your things into the master suite," Silas said, his voice dropping to a low, husky register. "The performance just got a lot more intimate."
As I walked back to my room to pack my bags, I realized that the "Flash Marriage" had evolved into something much more dangerous. I was no longer just a bride of convenience. I was a Vane in my own right.
And as I looked at the signature on my finger, the heavy diamond ring, I wondered if I had just traded my freedom for a seat at a table where the only thing on the menu was my heart.