Chapter 1 - THE ELEVEN-MINUTE MARRIAGE
“What happens at midnight?”
Julian did not answer immediately.
That was the first thing that frightened me.
Men like him had answers for everything.
He looked at the clock again.
11:49 P.M.
Then at me.
“My grandfather’s trust transfers controlling voting rights in Vale Global.”
I frowned.
“To who?”
“My cousin, Sebastian.”
“Unless?”
“Unless I am legally married before midnight on my thirty-ninth birthday.”
I stared at him.
“Your birthday is today?”
“Yes.”
“And your grandfather put marriage in a corporate trust?”
“He believed an unmarried man was easier to manipulate.”
I almost laughed.
“That is spectacularly ironic.”
His mouth twitched.
“But why midnight?”
“The clause expires when I turn thirty-nine.”
I checked the clock.
Eleven minutes.
“So your cousin gets the company if you don’t marry?”
“Forty-two percent of the voting control.”
“How much is that worth?”
Julian’s expression went flat.
“Billions.”
My cleaning cloth suddenly felt very small.
“And you’re asking me because…”
“Because the woman I was supposed to marry disappeared three hours ago.”
I froze.
“You already had a fiancée?”
“No.”
“Good start.”
“A contractual candidate.”
“That is somehow worse.”
He almost smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He showed me the screen.
A photograph of a blonde woman getting into a black SUV.
Timestamp: 8:06 P.M.
Message beneath it:
DON’T LET HIM SIGN ANYTHING.
I looked at Julian.
“Who is she?”
“Camille Rhodes.”
“The woman you were supposed to marry?”
“Yes.”
“Who sent that message?”
“I don’t know.”
The clock changed.
11:51.
I took a breath.
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Marriage license?”
“Yes.”
“Officiant?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“You came prepared.”
“I had a plan.”
“And then your bride vanished.”
“Yes.”
I looked down at my worn shoes.
Then thought of my mother’s hospital bill.
Six hundred thousand dollars.
But my stomach still said danger.
“I want the agreement in writing.”
Julian nodded immediately.
“No control over my job.”
“Yes.”
“No control over my mother’s care.”
“Yes.”
“No touching me without permission.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Yes.”
“No public humiliation. No pretending I belong to you.”
He went still.
“Agreed.”
“And if I want out after the required period?”
“You leave.”
“How long?”
“One year.”
I laughed.
“Of course.”
He handed me his phone.
His attorney was already on video.
A woman with sharp eyes and silver glasses.
“Mr. Vale,” she said, “we have nine minutes.”
Julian looked at me.
I looked at him.
Then said:
“Add my conditions.”
The attorney did.
The clock read 11:56 when the private elevator opened.
An officiant hurried in carrying documents.
At 11:58, I signed.
At 11:59, Julian signed.
At exactly 11:59 and forty-two seconds, the officiant said:
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Nobody kissed.
Thank God.
Julian exhaled for the first time all night.
Then every light in the conference room went out.
The emergency system flickered on.
His attorney’s video disappeared.
And someone began pounding on the locked doors.
Julian moved in front of me.
“What is happening?”
He looked toward the doors.
Then at his phone.
No signal.
His face hardened.
“Sebastian.”
The pounding stopped.
A voice came through the other side.
Calm.
Male.
“Congratulations, cousin.”
Julian went still.
May you like
Then Sebastian Vale added:
“You married the wrong woman.”
