Lena stepped off the crowded bus, her heart racing as she adjusted the folder under her arm.
The Cityview Civil Registry loomed ahead, it's a massive stone building with glass doors reflecting the overcast sky.
The air felt thick with rain and exhaust, and her worn sneakers seemed painfully out of place on the gleaming marble steps.
"Ugh, why did I have to stop at the hospital?" she muttered, frustration bubbling up. Rachael's last-minute plea still echoed in her ears: "Mom needs you here! Just stay a bit longer."
Glancing down at her plain gray dress, borrowed from Mira, Lena felt a wave of self-doubt wash over her. Everyone else around her was dressed in tailored suits and chic coats.
"I look like I just rolled out of bed," she thought, resisting the urge to tug at the fabric.
As Lena paused outside the registry, she took a deep breath, catching a glimpse of her anxious reflection in the glass doors. Five minutes. That's all it would take to sign her life away. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking her focus.
"Cityview. Now," read the text from Damien. No greeting, no pleasantries. Just a command as she shakes her head.
Lena's stomach churned at the bluntness of his message. "I'm on my way!" she typed back, but her fingers hesitated over the keys. She thought about her mother's frail hand squeezing hers the whir of the oxygen machine filling the hospital room. Rachael's words echoed again: "You'll fix this, right?"
"This is for them," she whispered to herself, trying to muster resolve. Pushing through the heavy doors, the lobby's cold expanse washed over her. Marble floors echoed her every step, and she could sense the weight of the moment settling on her shoulders, much heavier than she anticipated.
Two guards stood by a corridor, their eyes boring into her as if assessing her worth. One of them nodded toward a private room, his expression impassive.
Lena gulped, her palms growing clammy around the folder. What if she was making a huge mistake? What if Damien was colder than he seemed? She thought
But the thought of the $20 million and the advance for her mother's surgery filled her mind with clearer purpose. I need to do this at least ,for my mother ; she said. Each step toward the room felt like a step deeper into a different world, one she wasn't sure she belonged in.
•••••••
As she entered the small but very luxurious private room, the atmosphere shifted dramatically.
A mahogany desk dominated the space, meticulously organized and the faint scent of leather and ink hung in the air.
Damien sat at the far end, sharply dressed in a gray suit while scrolling through his phone with an air of impatience.
"Late," he said, eyes still glued to the screen. You are ten minutes late.
"Only by ten minutes," Lena countered, trying to be a bit defensive while desperately trying to keep her voice steady. She set the folder down, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze.
Damien glanced up, his eyes sharp like a hawk's. "Ten minutes could make us lose millions. Lena."
She flinched at the bite in his tone. "I had to help my sister. My mom is in the hospital. I can't just drop everything." she said trying to summon courage to speak.
"Sit." He waved a hand dismissively not giving her room to argue.
Lena sank into the chair beside him, her borrowed dress feeling tighter by the second almost suffocating.
The registrar was a middle-aged woman with a tight bun, shuffled papers with an efficiency that made Lena think she'd done this a thousand times before.
"Everything's prepared, Mr. Blackwood," she said, sliding two copies of the marriage certificate across the desk.
As Lena's eyes scanned the document, the sight of her name next to his , staring at a stranger's signature. This is becoming so real…she said to herself.
There were no flowers, no vows, just a transaction. "This isn't what I imagined," she thought, anxiety loomed in her chest.
"You want to read it again?" Damien's voice cut through her thoughts, clipped and impatient.
"I already did," Lena replied, holding his icy gaze for a moment longer than necessary. "I'm not signing blindly, you know."
"Then just sign." He extended a sleek silver pen toward her, its weight feeling symbolic of the burden she was about to accept.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she grasped the pen, pressing it to the paper. Signing her name Lena Walker felt like bidding farewell to her old life.
Moments later, Damien's confident handwriting flowed across the page, swift and practiced as if he'd completed this process a hundred times before.
She forced herself to break the silence. "I'm glad you could rush over," she said, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere.
Damien raised an eyebrow. "This isn't a social visit."
"Right... of course," she replied, fighting back the frustration bubbling inside. "It's just... I didn't expect it to feel so… stark."
He leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Stark is more like it. This is business, and emotions will only get in the way."
"Business? You mean my life!" Lena shot back, her voice rising.
His expression didn't waver. "Your life as you know it is changing, Lena. You'll adjust, I assure you."
She clenched her jaw , anger mixing with fear. "You act like this is nothing," she said. "But it feels like I'm diving into the deep end without knowing how to swim."
The registrar cleared her throat, sensing the tension. "If you're both ready, we can finalize this," she interjected softly.
Lena nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at her insides. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions anxiety, anger, fear, and a flicker of anticipation. "This has to work," she thought, focusing on the reason behind it all: her mother.
After the documents were stamped and signed, the registrar slid one copy toward each of them. Lena glanced down at her certificate, seeing her new name -Lena Blackwood - etched in crisp black ink. It felt foreign, like a mask she wasn't ready to wear.
Damien, also reading his copy, suddenly stood and buttoned his suit jacket with a practiced ease. "Now it's official." he smiled
Lena stood slowly, clutching her copy of the certificate. "What happens next?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There's dinner tomorrow night," he stated without looking up. "Our first public appearance as a couple. My assistant will send a dress.