Several days had passed since my failed escape. My ankle had healed, and now the wedding day had arrived.
I hadn't tried to run again. Instead, I resigned myself quietly, as though every fight had already been drained out of me. On the nightstand, the unsigned contract waited. The same contract I refused to sign many days ago in Daniel's study.
I picked it up, flipping through the pages. The legal language blurred—liabilities, settlement, obligations. My father's signature stood bold at the bottom, neat and certain. He had given me away with a stroke of his pen.
A question burned at the back of my mind: what kind of debt was so steep, so damning, that I was the price to pay?
I swallowed hard, gripping the pen. My hand wavered, then stilled. With one quick motion, I signed.
Just like that, it was done. The debt was settled. And I was the settlement.
I almost closed the folder then, but something caught my eye—an information page tucked behind the contract. My gaze froze on a line.
Daniel Voss, born 15 March 1993.
Thirty-two. He was thirty-two. I tried to reconcile the number with the man I knew. He didn't look thirty-two. Too young, too impossibly handsome for that age.
A sudden pang of guilt made me think of Trish. I picked up my phone and called. She answered on the first ring.
"Mara! You're back in Lexington?"
"Yes. I'm sorry I haven't called. There's been… a lot. I don't even know where to start."
"Then just tell me anything."
"I'm getting married. Today."
I heard something shatter on her end. "Married? Today? Mara, what are you talking about? Without telling me?"
A knock at the door cut me off.
"Trish, I have to go. I'll call you soon. Love you." I hung up quickly.
"Come in, Selene," I called.
She entered quietly. "Good morning, Mrs. Voss. Time to get ready."
I let her help me. By the time we finished, I was staring at my reflection in the mirror. The dress hugged my frame perfectly. Minimal makeup, my hair pinned into a soft twist. It was simple, but enough. Even though this wasn't my dream wedding, I looked breathtaking.
What a cruel thing, I thought bitterly, to look beautiful for a wedding I never wanted.
"You look lovely, Mrs. Voss," Selene said, tucking back a loose strand.
"Thank you," I murmured.
We left the room together and went downstairs. Daniel was waiting in the living room, dressed in a sharp black suit that made him look even taller, even more composed than usual. When his eyes met mine, something flickered across his face and it disappeared too quickly for me to name.
"Can Selene come?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended. This time, it wasn't an act. I really needed someone beside me.
"Sure," he said with a nod, adjusting his tie. He looked devastatingly handsome, and that unsettled me more than anything.
Minutes later, Selene reappeared in a simple green dress. The three of us walked outside together. My legs wobbled, and I almost slipped on the last step.
"Careful," Daniel muttered, catching me by the waist. His touch was steady, firm. For a brief moment, I remembered the night he'd tended to my wounds. Sometimes, Daniel Voss surprised me.
The courthouse was exactly what I expected. Pale walls, polished floors, the faint scent of paper and ink. No flowers, no music, no joy. Just procedure.
We were about to go inside when I heard a squeal.
"Uncle!"
The little girl I'd seen the other evening ran towards Daniel. He bent instantly, scooping her into his arms with surprising ease. For the first time that day, his expression softened, an almost unguarded smile breaking through.
This time, I noticed the woman who followed. I hadn't really looked at her that night, I'd been too caught up in Daniel and the child but up close the resemblance was impossible to miss. The same sharp lines, the same striking eyes. His sister, I realized.
"Rielle, I told you not to run. You'll fall and hurt yourself," she reached for the child, but not before her eyes flicked toward me. Irritation, maybe even disdain, flickered there for the briefest second. Then quickly, her expression smoothed into polite composure.
I looked away, unsettled.
Inside, the proceedings began quickly. Papers were laid out, the clerk droning through the formalities. My hands trembled as I scanned the room. My father sat near the front with his wife and Devon, both cold, unreadable. Devon's eyes stayed fixed on his phone. And then I saw her—Darcy. She gave me a look full of sympathy, and my chest constricted.
Daniel signed his name in bold, certain strokes. When my turn came, I hesitated. Signing meant it was real. I would no longer be Mara Kensington but Mara Voss. The title Mrs. Voss that Selene and the others used would no longer be habit, it would be official.
I took a deep breath and pressed the pen down. With that, it was done.
So simple, just ink on paper and yet it chained my life forever.
I glanced back once more, and Selene's eyes met mine. She gave me the smallest nod, a faint, steady smile meant only for me. Just that quiet reassurance made me breathe easier, if only for a moment.
Afterward, I drifted from his side. His sister lingered nearby, her gaze weighing heavy on me.
"Mara!" Darcy called. She hurried forward, hugging me tightly. Devon trailed behind her, looking as bored as ever.
"Darcy, welcome back," I managed with a weak smile.
"Oh, Mara, if I'd known, I would have come sooner to stop this madness. How could Father do this?"
"It's fine," I whispered. "Even you couldn't have changed anything. You know what he's like."
She frowned. "I told him I was against this."
Daniel appeared at my side. "Let's go home, Mara." His voice was low, commanding but there was something almost gentle in the way he said it.
Darcy's eyes widened slightly at him. Surprise? Fear? I couldn't tell. She offered her hand. "I'm Mara's sister. Darcy."
Daniel regarded her coolly and gave only a curt nod. No handshake. No word.
Darcy's hand fell. "Take care of my sister. Not even a strand of her hair should be harmed."
Daniel said nothing.
My father and Devon approached next.
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Voss," Father said, smiling coldly.
"Happy married life, sister," Devon added with a smirk.
Happy married life, indeed, I thought bitterly.
"Thank you, Richard Kensington," Daniel replied in a voice like ice. He guided me away, slow and steady.
I turned once before stepping out. Darcy's gaze was still fixed on us—too intent and thoughtful. For a moment, her brow furrowed as though she were piecing something together. Then she smoothed her expression, smiling faintly and waving.