Cassandra's POV
I stare at Margaret Whitmore through the crack in the door.
She's elegant in that old-money way pearl earrings, silk blouse, perfectly styled gray hair. But her eyes are hard. Calculating.
Elijah isn't here, I say carefully. He's at work.
And you are?
Cassandra. His wife.
Her eyes narrow. Wife? Since when?
Since yesterday.
How convenient. Her smile is cold. Right before the custody hearing. How absolutely convenient.
I don't know what you're implying
I'm implying that Elijah Morgan has suddenly produced a wife out of thin air in a desperate attempt to look stable for the judge. Which is fraud.
My heart pounds. But I keep my face calm.
It's not fraud. We're legally married.
We'll see what the judge thinks. She tries to peer past me. Is Mia here?
Yes.
I'd like to see my granddaughter.
Every instinct screams to slam the door. But I can't. That would look bad. Unstable.
Exactly what she wants.
Wait here, I say.
I close the door, pull out my phone, text Elijah: Margaret Whitmore is at the door. She wants to see Mia. What do I do?
His response is immediate: Don't let her in. I'm calling my lawyer. Be there in 20 minutes.
I go back to the door, open it slightly.
I've called Elijah. He'll be here soon. You're welcome to wait in the lobby.
I want to see Mia now.
And you can. When Elijah arrives.
I have every right
You have the rights the court grants you. Which, currently, is supervised visitation only. Elijah isn't here to supervise. So you'll wait.
I'm amazed at how steady my voice is. Inside, I'm terrified.
Margaret's jaw tightens. You don't know what you're getting into, Mrs. Morgan. This custody case, this family. You've made a mistake marrying into this mess.
I'll be the judge of that.
You will. And so will the family court judge. And when he discovers this marriage is a sham, Elijah will lose everything.
It's not a sham.
Isn't it? You married a man you barely know. Moved in immediately. Started playing house with a child who isn't yours. She leans closer. I've been watching Elijah for months. I know he hasn't been dating anyone. And suddenly, right when he needs it most, he has a wife? The judge will see right through this.
I force myself not to react. Not to show fear.
You don't know anything about our relationship.
I know Elijah is desperate. And desperate people make terrible decisions. She steps back. I'll be back. With my lawyer. And when the judge hears about this fraudulent marriage, Mia will finally come home where she belongs.
She turns and walks away, heels clicking on the marble floor.
I close the door, lean against it, trying to catch my breath.
Cassandra? Mia's small voice comes from behind me. Who was that lady?
I turn. She's standing in the hallway, Mr. Hopps clutched tight, looking scared.
How much did she hear?
Just someone looking for Uncle Eli, I say gently.
Was it Grammy Whitmore?
You know her?
Mia nods, her expression troubled. She came to the funeral. She said I had to come live with her. But I wanted to stay with Uncle Eli.
And you are staying with Uncle Eli.
She's mean. She smells like flowers but her eyes are cold.
Out of the mouths of babes.
Uncle Eli is coming home, I say. Let's wait for him, okay?
Okay.
We sit on the couch. Mia curls up next to me, unusually quiet.
I check my phone. Three messages from Elijah:
On my way
Don't let her back in
You okay?
I text back: Fine. Mia heard some of it. She's scared.
Fuck. Sorry. Be there in 10.
Ten minutes feels like an eternity.
When the door finally opens, Elijah rushes in. Still in his suit, slightly disheveled, breathing hard like he ran from the car.
Are you okay? He looks at me first, then Mia. Both of you?
We're fine, I say. She didn't get past the door.
Elijah pulls Mia into a hug. I'm sorry, bug. I'm so sorry she scared you.
It's okay, Uncle Eli. Cassandra protected me.
He looks at me over Mia's head. Mouths thank you.
What did Margaret say? he asks.
That our marriage is fraud. That the judge will see through it. That she's coming back with her lawyer.
Elijah closes his eyes, jaw tight. Of course she is.
Is our marriage fraud? Mia asks, voice small.
We both freeze.
No, Elijah says firmly. Cassandra and I are really married. Really living here together. Really a family.
But Grammy said
Grammy Whitmore doesn't know what she's talking about. She's trying to scare us. But we're not scared, are we?
Mia shakes her head, but she doesn't look convinced.
Elijah's phone rings. He checks it. My lawyer. I should take this. Mia, can you show Cassandra your art project? The one you made at school?
Okay.
Mia takes my hand, leads me to her room while Elijah paces in the living room, talking intensely into his phone.
We sit on her floor. She pulls out a painting bright colors, stick figures, a house.
This is me, she points to a small figure. And this is Uncle Eli. And this is you.
I'm in the picture. Already part of her family in her five-year-old mind.
The guilt is overwhelming.
It's beautiful, I manage.
Can we hang it in the kitchen?
Of course.
She beams. Then her smile fades. Cassandra? Are you going to leave? Like Grammy said?
No, sweetie. I'm staying.
Promise?
I'm lying to a child. Making promises I can't keep.
But what else can I do?
Promise, I say.
She hugs me tight.
Elijah appears in the doorway. His expression is grim.
Mia, can you play in here for a bit? I need to talk to Cassandra.
Okay.
We go to his study a room I haven't been in yet. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Massive desk. View of the bay.
He closes the door.
My lawyer says Margaret can request an emergency evaluation. She'll tell the judge about our sudden marriage. They'll send a social worker to assess whether this is legitimate.
My stomach drops. When?
Soon. Maybe this week. They'll interview us separately, together, evaluate the home, talk to Mia. He runs a hand through his hair. We need to be convincing.
We've been married one day, Elijah. How convincing can we be?
I don't know. But we have to try. He looks at me, and there's real fear in his eyes. If they think this is fake, I lose her. The Whitmores get her. And they don't love her, Cassandra. They want her because she's the last piece of their son. She's an object to them, not a person.
I know.
So we need to sell this. Make them believe we're real.
How?
He's quiet for a moment. Then: We need to act like a real couple. In public, at home, everywhere. We need to know things about each other favorite foods, habits, how we met, when we knew we wanted to get married. We need a story that holds up under questioning.
Okay. So we create a story.
And we need to look... connected. Comfortable with each other. Like we've been together longer than two days.
What does that mean?
He looks uncomfortable. It means we need to touch more. Hold hands. Act affectionate. The things real couples do.
Oh.
The contract said no physical relationship, I point out.
I know. But we need to revise that. Not for actual intimacy. Just for appearances. He's clearly struggling. I'm not asking for anything inappropriate. Just... believability.
I think about the kiss at City Hall. The electricity that sparked between us.
The way my heart races when he looks at me.
Adding more physical contact to this arrangement feels dangerous.
But losing Mia feels worse.
Okay, I say. We make it believable.
Thank you.
We stand there in awkward silence.
I should get back to work, Elijah says. I have meetings this afternoon.
I'll stay with Mia.
You don't have to. I can call the sitter
I want to. Besides, I work from home anyway. I'll handle some Hayes Tech business while she plays.
Okay. He hesitates. Cassandra? What you did today, standing up to Margaret. That was... impressive.
I was terrified.
You didn't show it.
Fake it till you make it, right?
He almost smiles. Seems to be our entire strategy.
It's working so far.
Is it?
I think about Mia painting me into her family portrait. About the promises I'm making that I can't keep.
Ask me in eighty-eight days, I say.
He leaves. I hear the door close. The apartment feels too quiet.
I go back to Mia's room. She's playing with her castle, making the princess rescue the dragon.
Everything okay? I ask.
Yep! Want to play?
Sure.
We play for an hour. Then I help her with a puzzle. Make her lunch. Watch her favorite show.
Acting like a stepmother.
Feeling more like one every hour.
At 3 PM, I get a call from Jordan.
How's married life? she asks.
Complicated.
Define complicated.
I tell her about Margaret. The threats. The evaluation coming.
Jesus, Cass. What are you going to do?
Convince a social worker that I'm madly in love with a man I married yesterday.
That's insane.
Welcome to my life.
Are you okay? Really?
I look at Mia, who's colouring at the kitchen table, humming to herself.
I don't know, I admit. Mia is... she's amazing, Jordan. And I'm already attached. Which is a problem because in three months, I'm leaving.
Maybe you don't have to.
What?
Maybe this arrangement becomes permanent. Maybe you and Elijah
Stop. This is business. That's all.
Is it? Because you don't sound like it's just business.
She's right. And that terrifies me.
I have to go, I say. Mia needs me.
Okay. But Cass? Be careful. Don't fall for the life you're pretending to have.
Too late, I think.
I'm already falling.