Chapter 102 Contract
Violet
“What the fuck did you mean by wife?”
The word rips out of me before I can even try to filter it.
Rowan hasn’t even taken three steps into the foyer yet when I whirl around to face him. My heart is still racing from the argument outside, from the cameras flashing, from the detectives practically trying to drag me off the property like I’m evidence in a crime scene.
But none of that is what’s echoing in my head.
Wife.
Rowan closes the distance between us slowly, like he knew this explosion was coming.
“It’s plain and simple,” he says calmly.
That calm tone only makes my temper spike harder.
“Plain and simple?” I repeat. “You just told two Internal Affairs detectives and half the press corps outside that I’m your wife.”
“Yes.”
My hands fly up in disbelief. “Rowan, we haven’t even slept together!”
Theo coughs somewhere behind me.
Camille mutters, “Oh my god,” under her breath.
Rowan doesn’t even glance at them.
His attention stays locked on me, steady and unshaken.
“They won’t bother you if you’re married to me,” he says.
I blink. “That’s your explanation?”
“Yes.”
I stare at him like he’s completely lost his mind.
“You think slapping a marriage label on this is going to magically fix everything?”
“No,” he says evenly. “I think it changes the legal battlefield.”
Devin shifts near the staircase, arms folded, watching this unfold like a man who has already seen the disaster coming.
Rowan continues, his voice calm, methodical. “If you’re my wife, you have access to my legal resources. My attorneys. My financial backing.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
“You need it.”
My jaw tightens. “You don’t know what I need.”
“Yes,” Rowan says quietly. “I do.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
He doesn’t react to the insult.
Instead he keeps talking like we’re discussing quarterly profit margins instead of my life imploding in front of a camera crew.
“If you try to fight this alone,” he says, “you will lose.”
My chest tightens.
“They’ve already frozen your accounts.”
I glance down instinctively, my stomach twisting.
“You saw that yourself,” he continues. “They’ll drag you into protective custody, isolate you, control the narrative, and by the time they release you the damage will already be done.”
“I can still testify.”
“Yes,” Rowan says. “And you will.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem,” he says sharply, “is that Calder was a cop.”
The room goes quiet.
He steps a little closer, his voice lowering. “A detective,” he continues. “You think one of his friends won’t sell you out the moment it becomes convenient?”
My pulse stutters.
“You think there aren’t officers in that department who would happily bury your credibility if it protects their own?”
I swallow.
Because the answer is obvious.
Rowan gestures slightly toward Devin. “Devin has already started preparing the legal structure.”
My head snaps up. “Of course he has,” I say bitterly.
Rowan doesn’t deny it. “A contract has been drafted.”
Something inside me snaps completely.
“A contract?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Unbelievable.”
Rowan’s expression hardens slightly. “This isn’t a joke.”
“No,” I snap. “It’s worse. You’re turning this into a business model when it has nothing to do with business.”
“It has everything to do with business,” he fires back.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.”
Theo shifts awkwardly near the wall.
Camille grabs his sleeve and whispers, “We should go.”
“No,” I snap immediately.
Both of them freeze.
“You stay,” I tell them, pointing between them. “Both of you.”
Camille blinks. “Violet—”
“No,” I repeat, louder. “You’re staying.”
Theo sighs softly.
“Because if the media decides tomorrow that Rowan manipulated me into this,” I continue sharply, “I want witnesses who can say exactly what happened.”
Camille looks nervous.
Theo just folds his arms.
Rowan watches me carefully. “Violet—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Don’t ‘Violet’ me.” My chest rises and falls faster now. “You don’t get to just decide I’m your wife because it’s convenient.”
“It’s not convenience.”
“It sure looks like it!”
Rowan runs a hand slowly through his hair, clearly trying to maintain the composure he’s been holding all day.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“By trapping me in a legal contract?”
“By giving you protection you currently don’t have.”
“I had protection before you declared me your spouse to the press!”
“No,” Rowan says quietly. “You didn’t.”
The certainty in his voice makes my stomach twist.
“You were alone.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Yes,” he cuts in. “You were.”
The words land heavy.
And I hate that part of me knows he’s not wrong. But that doesn’t make this okay.
“This is insane,” I say, shaking my head.
Rowan tries again, softer this time. “Violet—”
“No.”
I turn away from him. “I’m not doing this right now.”
“You need to hear the full explanation.”
“I don’t want the explanation!”
I start walking toward the front door. “I’m leaving.”
I grab the handle. It doesn’t move.
Of course it doesn’t. I stare at it.
Then slowly turn back toward him. “You locked us in?”
Rowan doesn’t look guilty. “This house is secure.”
My hands clench into fists. “You’re unbelievable.”
Instead of trying the door again, I turn and storm down the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Camille calls after me.
“To scream into a pillow before I kill someone,” I snap.
I reach the guest room where my belongings have been since this entire nightmare started.
The door slams behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.
Wife.
Contract.
Protective custody.
Every single thing about this day has spiraled into something I barely recognize anymore.
I run a hand through my hair, pacing once across the room before stopping near the window.
I need five minutes.
Just five minutes to think without Rowan Ashcroft deciding my entire future like it’s a boardroom negotiation.
The door behind me swings open.
Hard.
I spin around.
Rowan storms into the room like a man who has already decided he’s not backing down.
“This conversation isn’t done yet.”
My temper explodes instantly.
“Get out!”
Instead of stopping, he walks straight toward me.
“I said get out!” I repeat, backing up a step.
He doesn’t slow down.
His expression isn’t calm anymore.
It’s intense.
Controlled anger layered over something deeper.
“We are not walking away from this,” he says firmly.
“Yes we are!”
“No.”
“Yes!”
He closes the distance between us in three strides.
I point toward the door. “Leave!”
But instead of arguing again, Rowan reaches for me.
Both of his hands come up to cradle my face.
Warm.
Firm.
And before my brain can even catch up to what he’s doing—
He kisses me.
Hard.
The force of it pushes me back a step until my body collides with his, his arms pulling me against him as the kiss deepens. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing careful. It’s the kind of kiss that carries every ounce of frustration and tension that’s been building between us all day.
I gasp against his mouth, but he doesn’t pull away.