Chapter 5

The next morning brought with it a grey light that barely filtered through the tall windows of the law office. Laya sat stiffly on the edge of a worn leather chair; her fingers laced together so tightly her knuckles were pale. Her eyes were fixed on the contract sitting in the centre of the oak desk between her and Marcus Bellamy, her father’s lifelong friend and the Kerrigan family’s legal counsel for over two decades.

Marcus looked every bit the part of the seasoned solicitor, silver-haired, sharp-eyed, with lines around his mouth that spoke of too many serious conversations and too many burdens carried in silence. He was flipping through the final pages of the contract again, though she knew he’d already reviewed it thoroughly before she arrived.

“I had hoped the next time you sat in this office it would be for something joyful,” he said quietly, sliding his glasses off and setting them on the desk. “But this… Laya, this is something else.”

Laya swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the tea he’d kindly offered her upon arrival. She hadn’t touched it.

“I know,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper. “I know how it looks. And I know it’s… unorthodox.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Marcus leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “It’s entirely legal. Cybil had very competent lawyers draw it up. She’s protected herself well, and if you go through with it, you will be protected, too. But Laya, are you sure?”

She looked at him then, her eyes haunted but clear. “You’ve read every line?”

“I have.”

“And it’s binding?”

“Yes. If you sign, it becomes immediately actionable. You marry Daniel, you agree to fertility treatments, and upon the birth of the child, you are released. The trust for Kyle is secured, irrevocably.”

Her fingers toyed with the corner of the folder. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

Marcus leaned forward; his voice low. “I think you’re making a decision out of desperation. That doesn’t mean it’s the wrong one, but it does mean you should go into it with both eyes wide open. This isn’t a small favour, Laya. It’s a lifetime choice. Even if you’re released after the birth… the implications won’t just vanish.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He sighed and studied her carefully. “Have you explored any other options? I have contacts, wealth managers, venture capitalists. If it’s money you need, perhaps there’s another—”

“There isn’t,” she cut in, her voice firmer than it had been all morning. “We have had to freeze the company’s accounts until we can recover what was stolen. Kyle’s condition is deteriorating by the day. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

Marcus nodded solemnly. “Then let me ask you this. If your father were here… would you feel comfortable telling him about this decision?”

Her breath caught. She blinked hard, but a tear slipped past anyway.

“I think…” She paused, trying to gather herself. “I think he would hate it, but I also think he would understand. He asked me to look after Kyle. I’m just… doing what I can with what I have.”

Marcus was silent for a long beat, then nodded. “Very well.”

He reached for his pen and placed it gently on the contract in front of her.

“I’ll be your witness, if you wish.”

Laya hesitated only a moment longer before picking up the pen. Her hand trembled as she signed her name across the bottom of the last page, Laya Kerrigan, in dark blue ink.

The quiet scratch of the pen felt like thunder in the silence of the room.

As she set it down, her shoulders slumped forward, the weight of her choice settling fully on her back.

“It’s done,” she murmured.

Marcus reached out and touched her hand gently. “I’ll have my assistant file it with the registrar today. Legally, you’ll be eligible to marry Daniel as early as tomorrow.”

Laya nodded mutely.

As she stood to leave, Marcus rose with her and paused by the door.

“Laya?”

She turned.

“You’re brave. This may not look like courage — but sometimes, the bravest thing we do is sacrifice our own future for someone else’s.”

Laya didn’t answer. She simply nodded once and walked out the door, her heels echoing across the tiled hallway like the ticking of a clock she could no longer control.

Cybil Ashcroft was waiting for her in the study of the Ashcroft’s private villa, a room lined with old books and family portraits and the faint scent of aged wood polish. She looked up as Laya entered, her hands folded neatly on her lap, a fire crackling gently behind her.

“Well?” she asked, though her sharp gaze already knew the answer.

Laya stepped forward and placed the contract on the table between them.

“It’s signed. I had Marcus review it. It’s legally binding.”

Cybil’s lips pressed into a thin line. She stood, smoothing her skirt with a practiced elegance. “Then I’ll have the arrangements made immediately. The magistrate is already on standby. The marriage will take place tomorrow morning at St. Augustine’s. I’ve secured a private ceremony — no press, no guests beyond the witnesses and medical staff.”

“Will Daniel… be there?” Laya asked, her voice hesitant.

Cybil’s expression softened. “Yes. He’ll be transported under medical supervision. I insisted. I thought… it might feel more real that way.”

Laya nodded slowly. “I’d like a few moments with him before the ceremony. Alone.”

“Of course.”

The fire crackled. A moment passed in silence.

“I want to be clear,” Laya said quietly. “This isn’t love. This isn’t romance. This is survival, for both of us.”

“I know,” Cybil said, with the ghost of a smile. “But sometimes, survival is enough.”

She poured a small glass of sherry from a crystal decanter on the side table and offered it to Laya.

“To new beginnings,” she said.

Laya hesitated… then took the glass and clinked it gently against Cybil’s.

“To Kyle,” she whispered, and drank.

That night, Laya stood by the window of her apartment, the city lights flickering below like stars caught in glass. Her dress for the ceremony hung on the back of the door: simple, elegant, ivory not white, clean and unsentimental.

She hadn’t told Kyle. Not yet. He was too weak, too fragile. And besides… how could she explain it? How could she make him understand the weight of what she was about to do?

She turned the ring box over in her hand. Cybil had provided it earlier that evening. Platinum band, classic, understated.

It felt like something borrowed, a role she was stepping into, just for a time.

A name, a child, a legacy that wasn’t hers.

Her phone buzzed quietly beside her, a message from Marcus.

“Filed. You’re officially cleared to marry as of midnight. I’m here if you need anything.”

She didn’t reply. She simply slid the phone onto the nightstand and stared back out into the night, wondering how long it would be before she felt like herself again, if she ever would.

And then, finally, she crawled into bed, pulled the blanket around her shoulders, and stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come.

Tomorrow, she would become a wife.

Tomorrow, she would become a bargaining chip.

Tomorrow, she would save her brother.

No matter the cost.