Chapter 3 - Into the Lion’s Den
I stared at the black-ink signature at the bottom of the deed in Marcus’s hands. Five years of paid medical care for my mother. A deed in her name. Security that no one—not Margaret Aldridge, not any landlord, not any bill collector—could ever strip away from her again.
"What's the catch?" I asked, looking up into Cassian's shadowed face. "Six wives before me. None of them stayed. What happens to the women who marry you?"
"The first three were political arrangements arranged by my father," Cassian said without a trace of emotion. "They were paid off and sent away when I took over the family. The fourth was a spy for a rival family in Chicago; she lives comfortably under witness protection in London. The fifth was an addict who traded her title for a rehab clinic in Switzerland. And the sixth..."
He paused, a dark, fleeting shadow passing over his sharp jaw.
"The sixth was paid two million dollars to run out into the snow barefoot so the media would think I was a monster," Cassian said quietly. "A monster is much easier to respect in my line of work than a reasonable man."
I processed his words carefully. The terrifying rumor mill that had haunted the city for a decade was nothing more than a carefully engineered weapon designed to keep his enemies terrified and his competitors at bay.
"And what would I be?" I asked. "The seventh monster's bride?"
"You would be my partner," Cassian said. "The woman who knows the truth behind the Aldridge family's clean corporate facade. You scrubbed their floors, Lydia. You know where they hide their ledgers. You know which safes contain their secrets."
He held out his right hand toward me. His knuckles were bruised, his palm scarred, but his hand was steady as granite.
"Walk away with your mother's freedom," Cassian offered quietly. "Or stay, and take your revenge."
I looked down at his hand. For my entire life, people like the Aldridges had looked through me. They had treated my mother like livestock and me like a appliance that could be ordered around, slapped, or thrown into a forced marriage when it suited them.
I reached out and placed my calloused hand in his.
"Finish the vows," I said.
Ten minutes later, the priest—a terrified man who had remained hidden behind the altar podium throughout the entire exchange—hurriedly read the abbreviated legal vows. There were no rings exchanged, no kisses, no false promises of eternal love. Only two signatures on a New York State marriage license.
When the heavy doors of the chapel swung open, the storm outside was raging. A fleet of five bulletproof black SUVs sat idling in the gravel driveway. Marcus held a massive black umbrella over my head as Cassian guided me into the rear seat of the lead vehicle.
The interior was lined with soft black leather and smelled faintly of expensive cedarwood and cold leather. The moment the heavy door slammed shut, cutting off the sound of the rain, the vehicle pulled away smoothly.
I looked out the tinted window as we passed the gates of the chapel. Sitting on the shoulder of the road in a rain-slicked sedan was Margaret Aldridge, desperately talking on her cell phone, watching our motorcade speed past.
"She's calling her husband's legal team," I noted out loud.
"Let her," Cassian said from beside me. He had opened a tablet, his long fingers navigating complex financial spreadsheets. "By four o'clock today, her husband's bank accounts will be frozen by the federal district attorney's office."
I turned my head to look at him. "How?"
Cassian set the tablet on his lap, looking over at me. "Because twenty minutes ago, my men entered the Aldridge estate using the master security codes your mother provided to the groundskeeping team."
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My eyes went wide. "My mother?"
Cassian allowed a tiny, almost invisible smirk to touch the corner of his lips. "Did you really think I didn't know who you were before I walked into that chapel, Lydia? Your mother called my private security line at six this morning, the second she saw Evelyn's suitcases in the hallway."
