Cassandra's POV
Thursday arrives too fast.
I wake up at 6 AM in my apartment for the last time as a single woman. By tonight, I'll be Mrs. Cassandra Morgan. Living in a stranger's penthouse. Married to a man I've met four times.
The thought makes me want to throw up.
Jordan arrives at noon with coffee and a pep talk.
You don't have to do this, she says for the hundredth time.
Yes, I do.
There has to be another way.
There isn't. We've been over this, Jordan. Fifty-six days left. No other prospects. No other options. I take a sip of coffee, trying to calm my nerves. This is happening.
She studies me. Are you scared?
Terrified.
Of Elijah?
Of everything. Of making a mistake. Of this not working. Of losing the company anyway. Of I stop. Take a breath. But I'm more scared of doing nothing and watching Marcus destroy everything my grandfather built.
Jordan pulls me into a hug. Okay. Then let's get you married.
She helps me into the dress I bought yesterday simple cream sheath, knee-length, elegant but not bridal. I'm not trying to pretend this is a real wedding. I'm just trying to look respectable for the photos Elijah needs for the custody file.
My hands shake as I apply minimal makeup. Mascara. Lipstick. Nothing dramatic.
You look beautiful, Jordan says softly.
I look terrified.
That too.
At 1:45 PM, we arrive at City Hall.
The building is grand, imposing. Marble columns and high ceilings. People everywhere couples getting married, families celebrating, bureaucrats rushing through hallways.
I scan the crowd, looking for Elijah.
And there he is.
Standing near the clerk's office in a dark suit not a tuxedo, just his work suit. He looks professional, composed, handsome. When he sees me, something flickers in his eyes.
Relief, maybe. Or fear matching mine.
Cassandra. He walks over, and I notice he's holding a small bouquet. White roses. You look... you look beautiful.
Thank you. You didn't have to I gesture to the flowers.
For the photos, he says quickly. The custody evaluator will want to see wedding photos. It should look... real.
Right. Of course.
Awkward silence.
A man appears beside Elijah tall, Asian, professional-looking. David Wu, he introduces himself, shaking my hand. I'm Elijah's business partner. And apparently his witness today.
Jordan Chen, Jordan introduces herself. Also here under duress.
David smiles. So we're both supporting our friends in their moment of temporary insanity?
Looks like it.
The clerk is ready for us, Elijah says, checking his watch. We should go in.
My stomach flips. This is it. This is really happening.
Elijah offers me his arm. I take it. His suit is warm, solid. Real.
We walk into the clerk's office together.
The officiant is a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. She probably does ten of these a day. Quick civil ceremonies for people who can't afford big weddings or don't want the fuss.
She has no idea this one is fake.
Elijah Morgan and Cassandra Hayes? she asks.
Yes, we say together.
Wonderful. Do you have your witnesses?
Jordan and David step forward.
Perfect. And your marriage license?
Elijah hands it over. She reviews it, nods, files it.
Alright then. Let's begin. She gestures for us to stand facing each other.
I turn to Elijah. He's looking at me with an expression I can't quite read. Serious. Focused. Maybe a little scared too.
The officiant begins. We are gathered here today to witness the union of Elijah Morgan and Cassandra Hayes in marriage. Marriage is a commitment, a promise, a bond between two people who choose to face life together.
Each word feels like a lie. We're not facing life together. We're facing ninety days together and then going our separate ways.
Elijah, do you take Cassandra to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?
Elijah's dark eyes are steady on mine. I do.
His voice is clear. Certain. Like he means it.
Even though we both know he doesn't.
Cassandra, do you take Elijah to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?
My throat is dry. My heart is pounding.
This is a business arrangement. A contract. Nothing more.
But saying these words making these vows feels bigger than that.
I do, I say, and I hate how my voice shakes.
The officiant smiles. Do you have rings?
We both freeze.
We forgot rings.
We I start.
Elijah quickly pulls off a simple silver band from his right hand. This was my father's, he says quietly. It's all I have.
He takes my left hand. His fingers are warm, steady. He slides the ring onto my finger.
It's too big. It spins loosely.
But it's there.
And something about that gesture him giving me his father's ring makes this feel too real.
I don't have anything, I whisper.
It's okay, Elijah says. I don't need one.
The officiant looks touched. She probably thinks we're a young couple too broke for proper rings. Too in love to wait.
She has no idea.
By the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. She beams at us. You may kiss the bride.
Oh no.
We didn't discuss this. Didn't plan for this moment.
Elijah hesitates. His eyes ask the question: Is this okay?
I give the smallest nod.
He steps closer. Cups my face gently with one hand. His palm is warm against my cheek.
Then he leans in.
His lips touch mine.
It's supposed to be quick. Perfunctory. For show.
But the moment our lips meet, something electric shoots through me. A spark. A connection. Something I wasn't expecting and definitely wasn't prepared for.
My eyes fly open in shock.
Elijah's eyes are open too. Wide. Startled.
We both feel it. Whatever it is.
We break apart fast. Too fast. Like we've both been burned.
Congratulations! the officiant says cheerfully, completely oblivious. You're officially married!
David and Jordan clap politely.
I'm trying to catch my breath.
That was just a kiss. A simple kiss. It meant nothing.
So why do I still feel the ghost of it on my lips?
Why does my heart race like I've just run a marathon?
Photos? David suggests. For the custody file?
Right. Yes. Photos. Elijah sounds as shaken as I feel.
We pose. The officiant takes pictures with David's phone. Me and Elijah together. With the witnesses. Holding the marriage certificate.
Smiling like we're happy. Like this is real. Like we're in love.
I'm a better actress than I thought.
Or maybe it's easier to pretend when my new husband is handsome and gentle and gave me his father's ring without hesitation.
We finish the paperwork. Sign the certificate. File everything officially.
And just like that, I'm married.
Mrs. Cassandra Morgan.
For the next ninety days minimum.
We walk out of City Hall into the afternoon sunshine.
Well, Jordan says. That was... something.
Congratulations, you two, David adds. I think. This is still completely insane, for the record.
Noted, Elijah says dryly.
I look at the ring on my finger. Too big, spinning loosely, belonging to a man I barely know.
I should get my things, I say. Move into... your place.
Our place, Elijah corrects gently. For the next ninety days, it's our place.
Right. Because we're married now. We live together.
I can help you pack, Jordan offers.
I'll bring my car, David says. We can move everything in one trip.
It's all happening so fast.
This morning I was single. Now I'm married. Moving in with my husband. Starting a life I never planned.
An hour later, we're loading boxes into David's SUV. My apartment looks bear with half my things gone. Strange and empty.
Like my old life is already disappearing.
You okay? Jordan asks quietly as we pack the last box.
I don't know. Ask me in ninety days.
Cass. If this gets bad. If he's not who he says he is. If anything feels wrong
I'll call you immediately. I promise.
She hugs me tight. I'm going to miss you.
I'm not dying, Jordan. I'm just moving across town.
I know. But still.
We load everything into the car. I take one last look at my apartment the place I've lived for three years. My sanctuary. My space.
Now I'm going to someone else's space.
Someone else's life.
Ready? Elijah asks.
No. Not even a little bit.
Yes, I say.
We drive through San Francisco toward Pacific Heights. Expensive neighbourhood. Beautiful homes. Old money and new tech wealth.
Elijah's building is sleek glass and steel. Modern. Impressive.
The doorman greets him by name. Mr. Morgan. Welcome home.
Thank you, James. This is my wife, Cassandra. She'll be living here now.
My wife. The words sound strange in his mouth.
The doorman doesn't even blink. Wonderful. Congratulations, Mrs. Morgan.
Mrs. Morgan. That's me now.
We take the elevator to the twentieth floor. Penthouse level.
You have the whole floor? I ask.
Yes. Is that a problem?
No, just... impressive.
I work a lot. I wanted space.
The elevator opens directly into his apartment.
And it's stunning.
Floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the bay. Modern furniture in gray and whites. Sleek kitchen with top-of-the-line everything. Minimalist art on the walls.
It's beautiful.
And it feels absolutely nothing like a home.
Your room is this way, Elijah says, leading me down a hallway.
He opens a door to a guest bedroom. It's spacious, with an suite bathroom and a huge window. The furniture is nice but impersonal. Like a hotel room.
I hope this works, he says. If you need anything else, let me know.
It's perfect. Thank you.
Awkward silence again.
I should let you unpack, Elijah says. I have some work to catch up on.
Of course.
He starts to leave, then turns back. Cassandra? Thank you. For doing this. For helping me keep Mia.
Thank you for helping me keep my company.
He nods. Leaves.
I sit on the bed my bed for the next ninety days and look at the ring on my finger.
I'm married.
To Elijah Morgan.
Living in his penthouse.
About to meet his five-year-old niece.
This is my life now.
At least for the next twelve weeks and six days.
I start unpacking, trying not to think about what I've just done.
Trying not to remember how that kiss felt.
Trying not to wonder if this was the smartest decision I've ever made or the biggest mistake of my life.
At 6 PM, I hear the front door open.
Voices. A child's voice.
Uncle Eli! I'm home!
Mia.
My stomach flips.
This is it. Time to meet the little girl I just became a fake stepmother to.
Time to start pretending this marriage is real.
I take a deep breath.
Step out of my room.
And there, in the hallway, is a little girl with dark curls and big brown eyes, wearing princess pajamas even though it's dinnertime.
She stops when she sees me.
Stares.
Mia, Elijah says gently. This is Cassandra. My wife.
Mia's eyes go impossibly wide.
You got married? Her voice is small, shocked.
This wasn't in the contract.
I didn't expect her to be this adorable.
Or for her to look at me with such hope and confusion.
Hi, Mia, I say, kneeling down to her level.
And pray I don't mess this up.