By sunrise, I knew two things: the Mafia boss waiting to marry me had already driven six wives out of his house, and if I refused to become number seven, my sick mother would lose her home before sunset. Four hours later, I stood trembling in a borrowed wedding dress when Chicago’s most feared man looked at me and said, “This isn’t Evelyn.”

Maybe charged with fraud

Maybe charged with fraud.

Margaret had not only used me to replace Evelyn.

She had built me into the escape route.

I closed my eyes.

“Does Cassian know?”

“Not all of it.”

“Why not?”

“Because Evelyn didn’t trust anyone enough yesterday.”

“Not even you?”

“I’m the one who helped her leave.”

I looked toward Jonas again.

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because Evelyn said you would be the one they used next.”

I almost laughed.

“She was right.”

“Where are you now?”

“With my mother.”

“Do not go back to the Aldridge house.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.”

“Marianne.”

“Yes?”

“Why did Evelyn write ‘Do not marry Cassian. Not because of him’?”

Silence.

Then Marianne said something I had not expected.

“Because the stories about his wives are mostly lies.”

I stared ahead.

“Mostly?”

“He was married six times.”

“Yes.”

“Five were contract marriages.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Temporary legal alliances. Business, immigration protection, inheritance disputes, witness protection arrangements.”

I actually pulled the phone away and looked at it.

Then put it back.

“You expect me to believe Cassian Vale married five women for paperwork?”

“I expect you to learn the details before believing gossip.”

“What about the sixth?”

Marianne went silent.

The pause felt heavier than the others.

“Marianne?”

“The sixth was real.”

“And?”

“She left him.”

“Barefoot in winter?”

A tired laugh came through the phone.

“No.”

“So that story is false.”

“She left in slippers.”

I stared.

“That’s not significantly better.”

“She was angry.”

“Why?”

Another pause.

“Because Cassian discovered she had been secretly paying her brother’s gambling debts from company accounts and asked her to leave.”

I almost smiled despite everything.

“That is much less gothic.”

“Reality usually is.”

“Where is she now?”

“Toronto. Married. Two children. Sends Cassian a Christmas card.”

I closed my eyes.

Six wives.

Five arrangements.

One bad marriage.

And a city had built a monster because facts were less entertaining.

“Why did Cassian agree to marry Evelyn?”

“The Aldridges control land rights his legitimate shipping company needs. He controls access they need.”

“So business.”

“Yes.”

“Did Evelyn agree?”

“At first.”

That mattered.

“She wasn’t being forced?”

“Not originally.”

“No.”

I looked at her note again.

“But once she discovered the fraud…”

“She ran.”

“Why not tell Cassian?”

“Because she didn’t know whether he was part of it.”

I understood.

People surrounded by power learn suspicion before trust.

“Where is Evelyn?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Fair.”

“Tell Cassian about the altered pages.”

“Why me?”

“Because he’ll believe you saw the threat before you understood the business.”

“That is an extremely specific reason.”

“It’s true.”

Before hanging up, Marianne added, “Lydia?”

“Yes?”

“Cassian will try to solve this for you.”

I looked toward my mother.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if you remember you’re allowed to say no.”

Then she ended the call.

Cassian arrived at the cottage forty minutes later.

Not with an entourage.

Just Jonas.

He entered only after Mom invited him.

That surprised her.

It surprised me too.

He looked strange in our small living room.

Too tall.

Too formal.

Too expensive.

Mom studied him with the blunt curiosity of someone old enough to have stopped being impressed by reputation.

“You’re the husband?”

I nearly inhaled my own tongue.

“No,” I said quickly.

Cassian looked at me.

Then at Mom.

“No.”

Mom nodded.

“Good.”

I closed my eyes.

“Mom.”

“What? She looked miserable in the dress.”

Cassian glanced at me again.

His mouth moved.

I pointed.

“Don’t.”

He looked almost amused.

Then Mom said, “You’re thinner than on television.”

Cassian looked genuinely confused.

“I’m on television?”

“News.”

“Mom.”

“What?”

Cassian sat when she gestured toward a chair.

No one in the room behaved normally.

That helped.

I handed him Evelyn’s note.

He read it.

Then I told him about Marianne’s call.

Not everything Marianne said about his marriages.

That felt personal.

But enough.

The altered pages.

The debt.

The liability trap.

Cassian’s expression became colder with each detail.

Not explosive.

Focused.

“Jonas.”

“I’ll get the contract.”

Jonas stepped outside.

Cassian looked toward me.

“Did Marianne say where Evelyn is?”

“No.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she knew about the warning before I mentioned it.”

He nodded.

Mom looked between us.

“Who is Marianne?”

“Family,” Cassian said.

“Good family?”

Cassian considered.

“Complicated.”

Mom nodded knowingly.

“Aren’t they all.”

I stared at her.

She ignored me.

Jonas returned an hour later with a leather portfolio.

Cassian’s attorney joined us by video.

We sat around Mom’s tiny kitchen table beneath a lamp that flickered whenever the refrigerator cycled.

The absurdity of it grounded me.

Organized crime.

Corporate fraud.

Marriage contracts.

And Mom’s refrigerator needed a new starter.

Jonas laid out the documents.

The attorney compared the signed preparation copy with the digital draft.

The first nineteen pages matched.

Page twenty did not.

Neither did twenty-one.

Voting rights.

Debt assumption.

Indemnification clauses.

Exactly as Marianne described.

Cassian leaned back.

“Who delivered the final packet?”

Jonas answered.

“Aldridge counsel.”

“Did our legal team review the printed copy?”

“They reviewed the digital version.”

“So we failed.”

Jonas nodded.

“Yes.”

Cassian accepted it.

No excuse.

No blaming a junior lawyer.

That caught my attention.

“What happens?” I asked.

Cassian looked at me.

“The agreement is dead.”

“The wedding too.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Mom nodded.

“Very sensible.”

Cassian ignored her.

“What happens to the Aldridges?” I asked.

“Legally?”

“Yes.”

“My attorneys document the attempted substitution and altered contract. Beyond that, I decide what relationship remains between our companies.”

I stared.

“That’s all?”

He understood what I meant.

“No punishment?”

“Yes.”

He looked toward the contract.

“The truth is expensive enough.”

That was not the answer I expected from Chicago’s most feared man.

“Margaret threatened my mother.”

“I know.”

“And?”

“And your mother will not lose her home today.”

He paused.

“But the cottage belongs to the Aldridges.”

My chest tightened.

“I can’t control it permanently unless I purchase it or move Helen.”

Mom frowned.

“I don’t want to move.”

Of course.

Cassian looked at her.

“How attached are you?”

“My husband painted the shutters.”

That changed the room.

My father had died four years earlier.

Mom’s voice softened.

“He built the shelves in the bedroom. Planted the maple outside.”

Cassian nodded.

“I understand.”

He did not promise.

I appreciated that more than a grand gesture.

“I can offer the Aldridges market price for the cottage and surrounding acre.”

Mom stared.

“You can buy just the cottage?”

“If the property can be subdivided legally.”

“And if not?”

“I can find another structure.”

I started to protest.

Cassian looked at me.

“This is not a gift.”

“Then what is it?”

“Part of unwinding what they did.”

“That still benefits us.”

“Yes.”

“I cannot repay you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

I hated that answer.

He seemed to see it.

“You want terms.”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

He thought.

“You work for me.”

Mom’s eyebrows rose.

Mine too.

“As what?”

Cassian looked toward the documents spread across the table.

“You noticed coercion faster than half the lawyers in the chapel.”

“I was the coercion.”

“Still.”

“That is not a job qualification.”

“You also asked direct questions while terrified.”

“Bad habit.”

“I need someone on the Vale Foundation household-services review.”

I frowned.

“What is that?”

“Employee housing. Medical assistance. domestic staff contracts. We have three estates and several company residences.”

I stared at him.

“You want a housekeeper to review labor conditions?”

“I want someone who knows what bad ones look like.”

The room went quiet.

I had spent six years being invisible in wealthy houses.

No one had ever suggested invisibility might count as expertise.

“What would it pay?”

Cassian glanced at Jonas.

Jonas named a figure.

I almost dropped my water.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Mom said, “Take it.”

“Mom.”

“What? My heart is bad, not my hearing.”

Cassian almost smiled.