Chapter Six: Paper Rings and Ghosts in Suits

My breath stilled.

There he was—Bryan. Of all people. Standing right next to Mr. Denmark like fate had a cruel sense of humor. Sharp suit, smug smile, and that unmistakable gleam in his eyes—like he still thought he was better than everyone in the room.

My stomach twisted.

I didn’t need to hear him speak to know exactly what was coming.

“Small world,” he said, his voice smoother now, deeper. But still cocky. Still Bryan.

Andrew shifted beside me, tense. His hand hovered near my back, but he didn’t touch me. Not yet.

“You two know each other?” Mr. Denmark asked, looking from Bryan to me with mild curiosity.

“Oh, yes,” Bryan said. “Maria and I go way back.”

My mouth was dry. I could barely breathe, much less answer.

“She was unforgettable,” he added, like it was funny. Like the years of bullying and whispered insults were just some harmless inside joke we both shared.

Andrew cut in, voice cold. “Let’s not waste anyone’s time.”

There was something dangerous in his tone, like he was seconds away from lunging.

Denmark smiled, oblivious. “Of course. Bryan, get the files from the car.”

Bryan gave me one last long look before walking off.

“You’ve changed,” he said as he passed, low enough that only I heard. “Not much, though.”

And just like that, the years collapsed onto me like a house of cards.

⸻

Neither of us said a word until we got into the car.

The door slammed shut, and the silence roared between us.

“What the hell was that?” Andrew finally said, his voice like gravel. He wasn’t yelling, but his fury simmered just beneath the surface.

“That was Bryan Hale,” I muttered, still staring out the window. “The guy who used to call me a pig in the hallway. The one who made sure I knew I didn’t belong in my own skin.”

Andrew didn’t speak right away. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel him watching me.

“You should’ve told me.”

“What difference would it have made?” I snapped. “You already think I’m a walking disaster. Now I just confirmed it.”

“I don’t think that.”

I turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Really? Because you looked one second away from shoving me out of that hotel window when I opened my mouth tonight.”

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated breath. “This wasn’t the plan. You threw everything off script.”

“Script,” I repeated. “Because that’s what this is, right? A script. A performance. A goddamn contract.”

His eyes darkened.

“Exactly,” he said, pulling a folder from his briefcase and tossing it onto my lap. “Which is why we’re signing it tonight. No more surprises.”

I stared down at it. Thick pages. Typed clauses. Neat little bullet points outlining how to fake a perfect marriage.

I opened it slowly.

No real intimacy.

No romantic attachments outside the contract.

Public appearances mandatory.

Monthly allowance guaranteed.

And then there it was—bold, underlined, merciless: No falling in love.

I stared at those four words like they were written in blood.

“You’ve had this ready the whole time?”

Andrew didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“You don’t waste time, do you?”

“I don’t like mess,” he said, his voice sharp. “And right now, you’re mess in heels.”

I snapped the folder shut and shoved it back at him.

“Perfect. Let’s be messy together.”

He passed me a pen.

I signed.

So did he.

Just like that, I was fake-married to a man who couldn’t stand the sight of me—but needed me close enough to lie through his teeth.

⸻

Susan opened her door wearing a pineapple-print bonnet and holding a bowl of cereal like it was a trophy.

“Wow,” she said, eyes wide. “You look like someone who just made a deal with the devil.”

I walked past her and dropped onto the couch without a word. She followed, eyebrows raised.

“Spill.”

I tossed the contract onto her lap.

She skimmed through the pages, whistling low. “He wasn’t kidding.”

“Nope.”

“You actually signed a marriage contract with Andrew Walker. Girl…” She shook her head. “You’re either the smartest person alive or completely unhinged.”

“Both.”

She looked up, frowning. “Wait. What happened? Why do you look like someone just shot your dog?”

I sighed. “Bryan showed up.”

Her cereal paused halfway to her mouth.

“Bryan?”

“He works for Mr. Denmark. He saw me. Recognized me. Made a comment about how I ‘haven’t changed much.’”

Susan set the bowl down and came closer. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I said flatly. “But I’m pretending really well.”

She sat beside me. “You looked amazing tonight. If that bastard made you feel anything less, he’s still as trash as he was in high school.”

I laughed bitterly. “The problem isn’t just him. It’s me. I still feel like that girl he used to mock. Like I’m always one wrong outfit away from being a joke again.”

“Maria…”

“I want to change,” I admitted. “Not for Andrew. Not even for Bryan. For me. I want to walk into a room and not second-guess every inch of my body.”

Susan’s voice softened. “Then let’s do it. We’ll start small. Mornings at the gym. No scales, no crash diets. Just movement. Strength. Confidence.”

I smiled faintly. “And smoothies?”

“Obviously. And matching leggings.”

We fell into silence for a moment.

Then she grinned. “You know, when you signed that contract, you basically became royalty. I feel like I should start bowing.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, though. You stood your ground. Even if it’s a twisted circus, you’re still in the ring.”

“I just hope I don’t end up mauled by the lion.”

Susan smirked. “If you do, take a chunk out of him first.”

I laughed. It felt real this time.

⸻

That night, as I lay in bed, the silence wrapped around me like a cold blanket. The day replayed in fragments—Bryan’s face, Andrew’s anger, the ink on that contract sealing something I couldn’t undo.

I wasn’t the same girl I used to be.

But part of her still lived inside me.

And tomorrow, I’d wake up and fight for the version of me I hadn’t met yet—the one who didn’t flinch at old names or hide behind borrowed confidence.

The one who would walk into every room like she owned it.

Even if she had to fake it at first.