"You're already legally married! Why are you trying to register another marriage?"
"Don't you know that's bigamy—and it's against the law?!"
I stood frozen at the civil courthouse counter, my mind racing as I tried to process the clerk's words. This couldn't be happening.
"There must be some mistake," I insisted, my voice barely above a whisper.
The clerk shook her head and turned her computer screen toward me. "No mistake, Ms. Dubois. According to our records, you've been legally married to Arthur Sterling for the past six months."
The name meant nothing to me. I had never met an Arthur Sterling in my life.
The man I'd hired to pose as my husband for a fake marriage registration shifted uncomfortably beside me. "I should go," he muttered, collecting his things. "The deposit is non-refundable, by the way."
Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me alone with this impossible situation.
"Here's a copy of your certificate," the clerk said, handing me a printout.
I stared at the document in disbelief. There I was in the photo, looking constrained with a forced smile. The mole at the corner of my eye confirmed it was definitely me. And beside me stood a man I'd never seen before.
He had strong features, a sharp jawline, and penetrating eyes that seemed to stare straight through the paper. Even in this grainy official photo, his commanding presence was unmistakable.
Arthur Sterling.
My husband, apparently.
I stepped outside the courthouse, my legs wobbling beneath me. The spring breeze did nothing to clear my spinning head. I needed answers, and I knew exactly who could help me get them.
I snapped a picture of the certificate and sent it through an encrypted messaging app to a contact with a blank avatar. "Need info on this man ASAP."
The reply came almost instantly: "On it."
At least that was something. I tucked the certificate into my bag and headed toward my beat-up scooter. Today of all days, I couldn't be late getting back to the Dubois mansion. My half-sister Fiona's betrothal ceremony was happening, and I had been summoned to attend.
Not out of familial love, of course. My presence was required purely for show—and to ensure I stayed far away from her fiancé.
I parked my scooter at the edge of the estate's sprawling grounds. The Dubois mansion loomed ahead, a place that had never felt like home despite the years I'd spent there before moving out as a teenager.
As I walked toward the entrance, I caught snippets of conversation from the household staff preparing for the event.
"That's her—Elara Dubois."
"Shh! The illegitimate one, right?"
"Poor thing, she's actually quite beautiful. What a waste."
"Her mother was that woman who forced her way into the family when Mrs. Dubois was about to give birth. Can you imagine the scandal?"
I kept my gaze fixed forward, pretending not to hear their gossip. It was nothing I hadn't heard a thousand times before. The shameful daughter. The unwanted child. The living reminder of Alistair Dubois's indiscretion.
The moment I entered the foyer, Genevieve appeared, her face tight with impatience. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the stairs.
"You're late," she hissed. "Did you get the marriage certificate?"
"Yes," I replied flatly. Technically, I wasn't lying.
"Good." Her grip on my arm tightened. "Remember your place today. Caleb Sterling is Fiona's fiancé. A man from the Sterling family would never truly want someone like you. Your sister is the only one worthy of such a match."
I bit back a laugh. Caleb Sterling had pursued me relentlessly for four years in college, only to propose to Fiona the day after graduation when he learned of my "illegitimate" status. And now Genevieve was acting as if he'd never glanced my way.
"This is the last time," I said firmly, meeting her gaze. "After today, we're done. I've repaid my debt to you for giving birth to me."
Genevieve's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that."
We reached Fiona's room, where my half-sister sat surrounded by jewelry boxes, dressed in an elaborate gown that probably cost more than everything I owned combined.
"Finally," Fiona said, barely looking up. "What took you so long?"
Before I could answer, Genevieve cut in. "Elara got married today."
That caught Fiona's attention. She looked up, her eyes wide with surprise that quickly morphed into suspicion.
"Married? To whom? Someone better than Caleb?" There was a note of insecurity in her voice that I'd heard many times before.
Genevieve laughed coldly. "Of course not! As if anyone would want an illegitimate child like her. Her husband probably couldn't even afford proper clothes for the ceremony. That's why he's not here—he'd embarrass himself in front of the Dubois family."
I thought of the man in the certificate photo. With his imposing presence and perfectly tailored suit, he hardly looked like the pauper Genevieve was describing.
"How can that be?" Fiona asked, her jealousy barely concealed. "Elara's pretty. That's why Caleb followed her around for years."
"Pretty doesn't matter when your blood is tainted," Genevieve spat. "Caleb was just amusing himself. He always knew a Sterling could only marry someone worthy—like you, darling."
I remained silent, my patience wearing thin. This was the dynamic I'd endured my entire life. Fiona's insecurity, Genevieve's venom, and my supposed obligation to accept it all without complaint.
Fiona finished selecting her jewelry and attempted to put on her heels, struggling with the tight confines of her dress.
She glanced at me expectantly.
"Elara!" Genevieve snapped. "Help your sister with her shoes! Always so useless!"
Something inside me snapped. "Help her yourself."
Genevieve's face contorted with rage. "How dare you! Just because you've married some nobody doesn't mean you can forget your place! When you and your husband are starving, you'll come crawling back, begging for scraps!"
"That's enough." I met her gaze steadily. "I'm not a servant."
"You ungrateful little—"
"What's going on here?" A stern voice interrupted our argument.
Alistair Dubois stood in the doorway, his expression displeased. "We have an important guest arriving any minute, and you're bickering like children."
Genevieve immediately shifted into victim mode. "It's Elara. She's being difficult because she got married today and suddenly thinks she's better than us."
Alistair turned to me, his eyebrows raised. "Married? Let me see the certificate."
I hesitated before pulling out the document. Before I could hand it to him, Genevieve snatched it from my grasp.
"Let me see what kind of nobody she's tied herself to," she sneered, unfolding the paper.
"Father, who's the guest that has everyone so worked up?" Fiona asked, momentarily distracted from my marriage certificate.
Alistair's expression transformed with pride. "Arthur Sterling is coming to personally oversee the betrothal arrangements."
The name hit me like a physical blow. I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Arthur Sterling?" I repeated, my voice barely audible.
"Yes," Alistair confirmed. "The CEO of Sterling Group himself. Caleb's uncle."
At that exact moment, Genevieve's eyes widened as she stared at the certificate in her hands. Her face turned ashen as she looked from the document to me and back again.
"This... this can't be right," she stammered.
"What is it?" Alistair demanded.
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their distinguished guest.
"He's here," Alistair said, straightening his tie. "Everyone downstairs. Now."
As my family hurried out, I remained frozen in place, the impossible truth finally sinking in.
I was married to Arthur Sterling—the man who was about to walk through our front door.