Chapter 8 For My Wife
My heart drops into my stomach.
The contract.
Of course there's a contract. We can't actually be married without signing papers. Without making this legal. Even if it's fake and temporary, it still has to be official.
"Now?" I ask.
"Now," he confirms, checking his watch. "Before the social worker arrives. We need everything in order. Everything needs to look legitimate."
I nod, feeling anxious.
This is really happening. This is actually happening.
I'm about to sign a contract to marry my boss.
"Let's go to my office," Caius says, gesturing toward the door. "The lawyer's waiting."
I follow him out of the guest room, down the hallway.
His office is exactly what I expected. Massive desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, bookshelves lined with volumes.
And standing inside is a woman in a gray suit holding a leather portfolio.
"Mr. Michael." She says when we enter, extending her hand to Caius first, then turns to me. "Mrs. Michael."
Mrs. Michael.
The name sounds weird and wrong at the same time. Mrs. Michael. That's me now. That's who I'm about to become.
"This is Lia," Caius says, and I'm grateful he uses my first name instead of the title that makes me feel sick. "Lia, this is Jennifer Smith. She's handled all the legal paperwork for our arrangement.
Jennifer smiles.
"Pleasure to meet you," she says. "Shall we get started? I know you're working against the clock this morning."
We sit. Caius takes the chair next to me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
Jennifer slides the first document across the desk toward me. It's thick and at least about twenty pages.
"This is the marriage contract," she explains. "It outlines the terms of your arrangement with Mr. Michael. Duration of six months. Payment structure. Expectations and responsibilities of both parties. I've flagged the key sections for easy reference."
I stare down at the document.
"Let me walk you through the main points," Jennifer continues. She flips to the second page. "Duration of marriage... six months from date of signing. After six months, the marriage will be dissolved through standard divorce proceedings, which Mr. Michael's legal team will handle at no cost to you."
Six months.
One hundred and eighty days.
"Compensation," Jennifer continues, moving to the next flagged section. "Two million dollars, paid in full upon successful completion of contract terms. Successful completion is defined as maintaining the marriage for the full six-month period and cooperating fully with all custody proceedings related to Leonard."
Two million dollars.
There it is. The number that will change everything.
The number that's going to save my mother's life.
"Payment will be made via wire transfer to your designated account within forty-eight hours of contract completion," Jennifer adds. "Tax implications are outlined in Appendix C."
She flips through more pages.
"Residential requirements. You'll reside in Mr. Michael's primary residence for the duration of the contract. You'll have your own private bedroom and bathroom. Mr. Michael will cover all household expenses, including food, utilities, and basic necessities."
"Public appearances," she continues. "You're required to accompany Mr. Michael to family functions, custody hearings, and any social events where your absence would raise questions about the marriage. A schedule will be provided at least one week in advance for any planned appearances."
My head is spinning.
This is so much. So many rules. So many requirements.
"Termination clause," Jennifer says, tapping another section. "Either party may terminate the agreement with thirty days written notice. However, early termination without cause will result in forfeiture of the full compensation amount. Mr. Michael retains the right to terminate with cause, meaning if you violate any terms of the contract, without financial obligation."
I swallow hard.
I understand what that clause means without needing more explanation. If I screw up, I get nothing.
And my mother dies.
"Confidentiality," Jennifer continues. "You agree not to discuss the terms of this arrangement with any third parties, including family members, for the duration of the contract and for five years following dissolution of the marriage. Violation of this clause carries a penalty of one million dollars."
I already told my mother. I already told her about the deal and contract. But how would they know I have?
"And finally," Jennifer says, flipping to another flagged page, "the fidelity clause."
I look up sharply. "The what?"
"Standard provision in arrangements like this," Jennifer explains. "Both parties agree to maintain the appearance of a monogamous relationship for the duration of the contract. No public relationships with third parties. No behavior that would bring the marriage into question or jeopardize Mr. Michael's custody case."
I blink at her. Then at Caius. Then back at her.
"So I can't..." I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
"Date anyone else," Caius finishes for me. "Neither can I. For the next six months, we need to appear completely committed to this marriage. Any suggestion otherwise... any rumors, any photographs, any witnesses who could testify that we're not really together could destroy the custody case."
Right.
Of course.
Because if we're out dating other people while claiming to be happily married, that's going to raise some pretty obvious red flags.
"It's just for six months," Caius adds, and I can hear an apology in his voice. "After that, you're free to do whatever you want."
Six months without dating.
Not that I was doing much dating before this anyway. Between working for Caius and taking care of my mother, I barely had time to sleep, much less maintain a relationship.
But still.
The idea of it being officially forbidden feels different somehow.
"Any questions?" Jennifer asks, her pen poised over her notepad.
I have about a thousand questions.
Questions like...What happens if Leo hates me? What happens if I can't pull this off? What happens if Caius's mother makes good on her threat to destroy me? What happens if the social worker sees through this whole charade in the first five minutes?
What happens if I fail?
But none of those are questions Jennifer can answer.
"No," I say. "I understand."
It's a lie.
I don't understand any of this.
I don't understand how my life went from normal to completely insane in less than forty-eight hours. I don't understand how I went from planning to quit my job to signing a contract to marry my boss. I don't understand how I'm supposed to pretend to be someone's wife when I can barely look him in the eye without my heart racing.
But I understand the important part.
Sign this contract, save my mother's life.
Don't sign it, watch her die.
That part is crystal clear.
Jennifer slides the document closer to me and places a pen beside it.
"You'll need to initial each page," she instructs. "And sign at the end. Take your time. Read through everything. Make sure you understand what you're agreeing to."
My hand shakes as I pick up the pen and begin signing.
Each initial feels like I'm signing away a piece of myself. A piece of my future. A piece of the life I thought I'd have.
But then I think about Mom. About her pale face in that hospital bed. About the doctor's words.
I have only weeks to save my mother.
I keep signing.
When I reach the final page, I pause. My hand hovers over the signature line.
This is it. The point of no return.
Once I sign this, I'm Mrs. Caius Michael. Legally and officially.
For the next six months, my life belongs to this contract. To this lie.
I glance at Caius only to see that he's watching me.
"Is there a problem," he asks quietly. So quietly that Jennifer probably can't hear. "Have you changed your mind or—"
"I haven't," I interrupt.
Because I haven't changed my mind.
How can I change my mind when the alternative is watching my mother die? When the alternative is sitting beside her bed in three weeks, holding her hand while she takes her last breath, knowing I could have saved her and chose not to?
I can't do that.
I press the pen to paper and sign my name.
Lia Grace Sterling.
For the last time.
Because in a few hours, I'll be Lia Grace Michael.
Caius signs next, boldly.
Jennifer collects the documents and slides them into a folder.
"Congratulations," she says with a small smile. "I'll file these this morning. You should receive your official marriage certificate within forty-eight hours."
She stands then shakes both our hands.
"Best of luck with the custody hearing," she adds.
Then she's gone, leaving us alone in the office.
"Well," Caius says. "That's done."
"Yeah." I'm still staring at the spot where the contract was. "That's done."
He checks his watch. "We have an hour and fifteen minutes before the social worker arrives. We should go over our story one more time. Make sure we're on the same page."
Right. Back to business.
I stand, smoothing down my dress.
"Actually," Caius says, "there's something else we need to do first."
I look at him questioningly and he pulls a small velvet box from his desk drawer.
My breath catches in my throat.
He opens the box slowly. And there, nestled in white silk, is a ring.
"You can't meet Catherine without wearing this," he says quietly, stretching it before me.
"Here," he says simply. "A ring. For my wife."