Chapter 6 - The Price of Becoming His Real Wife
Ethan moved me back into the penthouse that night.
This time I didn’t argue.
Not because I was afraid of sleeping alone.
I was.
But because pretending distance would protect either of us had become ridiculous.
Security doubled.
Curtains stayed closed.
My hotel reservation disappeared.
And at two in the morning, I walked into Ethan’s bedroom carrying my pillow.
He looked up from his laptop.
Neither of us spoke.
Then he closed it.
I stood in the doorway.
“This is not romantic.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I’m here because someone photographed us.”
“Of course.”
“And because the guest room feels weird now.”
“Understandable.”
“And because—”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Come here.”
So I did.
We slept.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing scandalous.
I fell asleep with my head on his chest while his hand rested against my back.
For the first time since my mother died, I slept through the night after something terrible happened.
That terrified me almost as much as the threat.
Depending on someone made losing them possible.
By morning, Ethan was awake before me.
I opened my eyes and found him staring at the ceiling.
“What are you thinking?”
“How to keep you safe.”
“Wrong answer.”
He looked down.
“What should I be thinking?”
“How attractive your wife looks before coffee.”
He studied my hair.
“That would require dishonesty.”
I elbowed him.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
It startled both of us.
Then reality returned.
Daniel arrived with security reports.
The threatening message came from a prepaid device.
The photographer had vanished.
The security contractor identified in the arson video was named Marcus Reed.
He had worked occasional assignments for Whitmore Capital facilities.
His supervisor claimed Marcus disappeared two days earlier.
Police found his apartment empty.
Charles denied knowing him.
Again.
Then another problem surfaced.
The trust hearing was still moving forward.
Even with Charles under corporate investigation, his legal petition remained active.
Daniel explained it over breakfast.
“The judge may consider recent evidence that the marriage became genuine.”
“Became?” I asked.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Legally, the question is whether it was a sham when entered.”
“It was not a sham,” Ethan said.
Daniel gave him a look.
“You had a two-year exit clause.”
“So do millions of prenuptial agreements.”
“You also wrote separate residences were permitted.”
“We lived together.”
“Eventually.”
I stared into my coffee.
“What happens if the judge invalidates the share release?”
“Charles’s voting position returns until Ethan turns forty or qualifies through another provision.”
“Which is?”
Daniel hesitated.
“What?”
“Permanent marriage.”
I blinked.
Ethan frowned.
“Define permanent.”
“The trust contains an alternate vesting path after one year of marriage if both spouses waive contractual dissolution provisions.”
I looked at Ethan.
He looked at Daniel.
“You never mentioned this.”
“You never planned to use it.”
“What would it require?”
Daniel looked between us.
“Amending the marital agreement.”
I almost laughed.
“How romantic.”
“It would remove the automatic two-year exit mechanism.”
Ethan’s expression became unreadable.
“So either person could still divorce.”
“Obviously. No contract can prevent divorce.”
“But there would be no predetermined clean-exit date.”
“Correct.”
Silence.
Daniel gathered his papers.
“I’ll let you discuss it.”
Coward number two.
He left.
Ethan and I sat across from each other.
“Well,” I said.
“Well.”
“This is awkward.”
“Yes.”
“You first.”
“No.”
“You’re the billionaire.”
“That is unrelated.”
“You’re older.”
“By nine months.”
“Ancient.”
“Claire.”
I smiled nervously.
Then stopped.
“Do you want to remove it?”
His eyes held mine.
“Yes.”
My heart kicked.
“Because of the shares?”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“I can turn forty without the company.”
“That is eight years.”
“I know.”
“You’d lose control.”
“Maybe.”
“So don’t answer emotionally.”
“That is precisely what I’m doing.”
I stared.
He reached across the table.
“I don’t want a date on our marriage.”
My eyes filled.
He continued.
“I don’t want twenty-four months approaching like an expiration label.”
“Very romantic.”
“I’m trying.”
“You are.”
His thumb moved over my knuckles.
“What do you want?”
I thought about the contract.
The safety it had given me.
A guaranteed escape.
A promise that I would not spend my life waiting for Ethan to choose someone else.
Then I looked at him.
“I want to remove it too.”
He exhaled.
I hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.
We signed the amendment that afternoon.
No cameras.
No champagne.
No City Hall.
Just Daniel, two pens, and Ethan’s hand touching mine under the conference table.
The next morning, someone leaked that too.
This time, public reaction changed.
Some people still called us calculated.
Others called the amendment proof the marriage had become real.
A photograph of Ethan holding me outside the fire circulated everywhere.
Wild June received forty thousand dollars in unsolicited online gift-card purchases.
I refunded most of them.
Mia threatened to disown me.
“You could rebuild the freezer.”
“I’m not taking sympathy money.”
“It is not sympathy. It is capitalism fueled by romance.”
“That sentence should be illegal.”
We found a temporary storefront three blocks away.
I used insurance money.
Ethan helped negotiate without purchasing anything.
Progress.
For nine days, life almost stabilized.
Then Marcus Reed was found dead.
Police discovered him in a rented car outside Newark.
No sign of violence.
Initial cause: overdose.
Ethan did not believe it.
Neither did Daniel.
Neither did I.
A dead man couldn’t explain who hired him.
Charles had motive.
Halcyon had motive.
Someone else might too.
That night, Victoria called from London.
“I found Oliver.”
Ethan put her on speaker.
“Where?”
“Geneva.”
“Can he be reached?”
“He already reached me.”
Her voice shook.
That frightened me.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He wants money.”
Ethan’s expression hardened.
“For what?”
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
“Records of Charles’s payments.”
“We have payments.”
“Not these.”
She inhaled.
“Oliver claims Charles arranged the marriage challenge months before you married Claire.”
Silence.
I stopped breathing.
“What does that mean?” Ethan asked.
“He knew about Claire.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Victoria continued.
“He says Charles knew you would be at Lark that night.”
I stood.
“No.”
Ethan went completely still.
“The blind date,” he said.
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“Mia arranged it.”
“Did she choose Ethan?” Victoria asked.
“No. She said her friend knew someone.”
I grabbed my phone.
Mia answered.
“Hey, arson bride.”
“Mia, who arranged my blind date?”
Pause.
“What?”
“Six months ago. Lark. Who set it up?”
“My cousin Rachel had a friend.”
“Which friend?”
Another pause.
“I don’t know. Some matchmaker she met at a fundraiser.”
My stomach dropped.
“Find out.”
“Claire, what’s happening?”
“Please.”
She heard my voice.
“I’ll call Rachel.”
I ended the call.
Ethan looked sick.
“My father arranged our meeting.”
“No.”
“He could have.”
“But why?”
Daniel answered.
“To create a marriage he could later challenge.”
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if Charles expected Ethan to choose someone convenient and then planned to expose it before the merger.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“He needed me married to trigger the shares.”
Daniel nodded.
“Then needed the marriage invalidated at the right time.”
My skin went cold.
“He manipulated you into getting control,” I whispered, “so he could later take it away publicly?”
“And discredit me.”
Daniel leaned back.
“If he could prove Ethan used marriage as a corporate device, he could argue breach of fiduciary duty and remove him as CEO.”
This was bigger than shares.
Charles had designed a trap.
And I had walked into it smiling.
My phone rang.
Mia.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Rachel remembers the matchmaker.”
“Who?”
“A woman named Evelyn Shaw.”
Daniel’s head snapped up.
“What?”
I looked at him.
“You know her?”
He stood.
“Evelyn Shaw worked for Charles.”
The room went silent.
“In what capacity?” Ethan asked.
“Executive recruiting.”
Mia’s voice came through the phone.
“Claire, should I be worried?”
“Yes.”
I hung up.
Ethan looked at me.
“This marriage was arranged before I asked you.”
I felt suddenly nauseous.
Everything we had built was real.
But the beginning?
Not even ours.
Charles had put Ethan in the restaurant.
Put me there.
Expected exactly what followed.
I whispered, “He knew you remembered me.”
Ethan’s face changed.
“What?”
“That’s why me.”
Charles didn’t choose a stranger.
He chose someone Ethan would trust.
Someone unlikely to refuse.
Someone with no powerful family.
Someone disposable.
Me.
My phone buzzed.
Another unknown message.
This time no photograph.
Just words.
ASK ETHAN WHY HIS FATHER KNEW YOU LOVED HIM.
I looked at Ethan.
His face drained.
“What does it say?”
I showed him.
He read it twice.
Then his eyes lifted.
“Claire.”
“How did Charles know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Only my journal knew.”
“No.”
I froze.
Ethan looked toward the bedroom.
Then back at me.
“There was someone else.”
My heartbeat became painful.
“Who?”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“My grandfather.”
“What?”
“When we were seventeen, my grandfather asked me whether there was anyone at school I trusted.”
“And?”
“I said you.”
The room disappeared around me.
Ethan continued.
“He asked why. I told him about the greenhouse. About seeing you help a freshman after everyone else left. About your mother.”
I stared.
“You remembered me that much?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you ever talk to me?”
He almost smiled.
“You ran away every time I tried.”
I felt personally attacked.
“That is not true.”
“It happened four times.”
“I was shy.”
“I thought you disliked me.”
I laughed through tears.
“Oh my God.”
Then the meaning returned.
“Your grandfather told Charles.”
“Maybe.”
Daniel’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Where?”
He listened.
Then looked at Ethan.
“We have another problem.”
Of course.
May you like
“What now?”
“Your father is missing.”
