"You may kiss the bride."

The words hang in the air of Ethan's—our—penthouse living room, where a judge, two witnesses, and Leo are the only audience to this most unconventional of weddings. Ethan's eyes meet mine, a silent question in their blue depths.


We hadn't discussed this part of the ceremony—the kiss that would seal our business arrangement in the guise of matrimony. For a moment, I consider offering my cheek, maintaining the emotional distance I've so carefully cultivated.

But Leo is watching, his eyes wide with excitement at seeing his parents "get married." And something in Ethan's gaze—a challenge, perhaps—makes me tilt my face up to his instead.

His lips meet mine, warm and surprisingly gentle. The kiss is brief, appropriate for the setting, yet something electric passes between us—a current of awareness that has nothing to do with our legal agreement and everything to do with the undeniable chemistry we've been ignoring.


When we part, I catch a flicker of surprise in Ethan's eyes, as if he too felt something unexpected. I quickly look away, focusing on Leo who's clapping his hands in delight.

"Are you married now?" he asks, bouncing on his toes in the little suit Ethan had delivered for him this afternoon—a perfect miniature of his own.


"Yes, sweetheart," I reply, kneeling to his level despite my cream silk designer dress. "We're a family now."

"A real family," Ethan adds, placing his hand on Leo's shoulder. "With a home we'll share together."

The judge smiles indulgently as he gathers his papers. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Knight. I've rarely performed a ceremony with such... efficiency."

Efficiency indeed. Thirty minutes from start to finish, with prenuptial agreements signed and witnessed before the vows were exchanged. No flowers, no music, no guests beyond Ethan's personal attorney and my lawyer Caroline. Just a legal transaction dressed up as a wedding.

Yet as Ethan slides the platinum band onto my finger to join the enormous engagement ring, I feel the weight of what we've done. For better or worse, I am now Olivia Knight, legally bound to one of the most powerful men in New York.

After the judge and witnesses depart, we're left alone—our new family of three standing somewhat awkwardly in the vast living room of Ethan's penthouse. The space is impressive—floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of Central Park, minimalist furniture in shades of gray and blue, original artwork on the walls that probably costs more than most people's homes.

"Can I see my room now?" Leo asks, breaking the silence.

"Of course," Ethan replies, seeming relieved to have something to do. "I think you're going to like it."

He leads us down a hallway to what was clearly once a guest wing, now transformed into a child's paradise. The main bedroom has been painted a soft blue with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. A custom bed shaped like a spaceship dominates one wall, while built-in bookshelves filled with children's books line another. A desk with a child-sized ergonomic chair sits beneath a window, and a play area features bins of toys—many still with tags attached.

Leo's eyes widen to saucers. "Is this all for me?"

"All for you," Ethan confirms, a genuine smile softening his usually serious face. "And there's more."

He opens a door to reveal an adjoining room that's been converted into a miniature museum of dinosaurs—models, interactive displays, even a life-sized Velociraptor statue that makes Leo squeal with delight.

"This is the best room ever!" he exclaims, running from one display to another. "Look, Mommy! A real T-Rex skull!"

"It's a replica," Ethan explains to me quietly. "But museum-quality. I remembered you said he loves dinosaurs."

I stare at the elaborate setup, momentarily speechless. This isn't the work of a day or even a week. Ethan must have started planning this room as soon as he suspected Leo was his son.

"When did you do all this?" I ask, keeping my voice low as Leo explores his new domain.

"I started the renovations the night after our first meeting," Ethan admits. "I knew he was mine the moment I saw him."

The confession catches me off guard. I'd expected Ethan to be a reluctant father at first—accepting responsibility out of duty rather than genuine desire. This level of enthusiasm, this immediate embrace of fatherhood, doesn't fit the calculating businessman I thought I knew.

"Thank you," I say, the words feeling inadequate. "This is... incredible."

"He deserves it," Ethan replies simply. "And there's your suite as well. Would you like to see it?"

My suite. Not our bedroom. A reminder that this marriage exists on paper only.

"Of course," I say, calling to Leo to stay in his room and explore while we continue the tour.

Ethan leads me further down the hallway to a set of double doors. "I had this redecorated based on the preferences in your hotel suite," he explains, opening the doors to reveal a stunning master suite in shades of cream and pale gold.

The space is elegant and feminine without being fussy—a king-sized bed with a tufted headboard, a sitting area with a chaise lounge by the window, a writing desk that looks antique but has modern charging ports built in. French doors lead to a private terrace with views of the park.

"The bathroom is through there," Ethan continues, gesturing to another door. "And the closet has been stocked with your things from the hotel, plus a few additions I thought you might need for upcoming social events."

I walk to the closet door and open it to find a space larger than my first apartment, filled not only with my clothes from the hotel but dozens of new items—dresses, suits, shoes, all with designer labels still attached.

"You bought me a wardrobe?" I ask, turning to face him.

"My wife needs to be appropriately dressed for her new social position," he replies matter-of-factly. "If you don't like any of it, return it. There's an account at Bergdorf's in your name."

The casual display of wealth should impress me—isn't this exactly what I wanted from this arrangement? Access to Ethan's resources, his world, his influence? Yet something about it rankles. As if he's trying to remake me into his vision of the perfect wife, erasing the woman I've fought to become.

"I have my own clothes," I say, more sharply than intended. "And my own money to buy more if needed."

Ethan studies me for a moment. "It wasn't meant as an insult, Olivia. Just a practical consideration. Our first public appearance as a couple is tomorrow night at the Riverside Foundation Gala. I thought you might want options."

The Riverside Foundation—one of New York's most prestigious charity events, attended by everyone who matters in high society. Including, almost certainly, Cassandra and my father.

"You might have consulted me before accepting invitations on my behalf," I say, though I know the gala is exactly the opportunity I need to reintroduce myself to New York society as Ethan Knight's wife.

"Would you have refused?" he counters.

"No," I admit. "But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Ethan asks, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

"The point is that this marriage may be a business arrangement, but I'm not a possession to be managed," I reply. "I have my own life, my own business, my own decisions to make."

Ethan's expression softens slightly. "You're right. I apologize for overstepping. Old habits—my mother always complained that I try to control everything around me."

The glimpse of self-awareness surprises me. "Smart woman, your mother."

"She is," he agrees. "You'll meet her soon. She's eager to know her grandson."

The reminder that our arrangement extends beyond just the two of us—that we've created a family unit that includes not only Leo but our extended families—sends a ripple of unease through me. How many more people will be hurt when the truth eventually comes out?

"I should check on Leo," I say, needing space to think.

"Of course. Dinner will be ready at seven," Ethan replies. "Nothing formal tonight—I thought Leo might prefer something simple for his first night here."

I nod and turn to leave, but Ethan catches my hand, his fingers warm around mine.

"Olivia," he says, his voice lower now. "I know this isn't a conventional beginning, but I want to make it work. For Leo's sake."

For Leo's sake. Not for mine, not for his. For our son. It's the one pure motive in this web of manipulation and revenge I've constructed.

"So do I," I reply, and in this at least, I'm being honest.

He releases my hand, and I return to Leo's room, finding him already settled on the floor with an elaborate dinosaur playset that wasn't there this morning.

"Mommy, look! Daddy got me the whole Jurassic World set!" he exclaims, the word "Daddy" falling from his lips as naturally as if he's been saying it his entire life.

My heart clenches at how quickly Leo has adapted, how easily he's accepted Ethan into his life. Children are resilient, yes, but there's something more here—a biological recognition, perhaps, that transcends the years of separation.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart," I say, sitting beside him on the plush carpet. "Are you happy with your new room?"

Leo nods enthusiastically. "It's the best room ever! And Daddy says tomorrow we can go to the Museum of Natural History to see the real dinosaurs!"

"Did he now?" I ask, making a mental note to discuss this with Ethan. We need to coordinate our schedules, establish routines for Leo that accommodate both our busy lives.

"Uh-huh. And he says I can have a puppy if you say it's okay." Leo looks up at me with hopeful eyes. "Can I, Mommy? Please?"

I sigh inwardly. Day one of our marriage, and Ethan is already playing the indulgent father, making promises without consulting me. We'll need to establish boundaries quickly.

"We'll discuss it," I say diplomatically. "A puppy is a big responsibility."

Leo seems satisfied with this non-committal answer and returns to his dinosaurs. I watch him play, marveling at his ability to adapt to this new reality—a father who appeared overnight, a new home, a completely different life.

If only adults could adjust so easily.