CHAPTER 7: SIGNED AND SEALED

Cara’s POV

The registry office smelled faintly of old files and polished wood. Everything about it felt cold and official, like no love story had ever lived inside those walls. It felt more like a place where love stories come to die instead of live. They could have at least decorated a place where people get married to look more cheerful.

I could feel my stomach tightening and I had to remind myself of the popular saying "Fake it till you make it". I was going to fake it till the end.

Mark stood behind us as the only witness. He kept looking at his phone and seemed like he was more interested in checking his emails or whatever it was he was doing with his phone, than being a part of this strange wedding. I couldn't even find it in me to be angry with him considering the fact that he was the one who introduced me to this marriage in the first place.

If I could disappear from here, I would most certainly take my chances.

Damien looked sharp, as usual with his suit crisp and his face calm looking like he had done this kind of thing a hundred times.

I, on the other hand, had my palms sweating even though I had tried to put on a brave front. The pen in my hand shook slightly when I signed my name next to his.

And Just like that… I was married.

My throat felt dry. There were no flowers, no music, no vows whispered. No family standing proudly. No ring sliding down my finger. Just ink, paper, and silence.

I never imagined I would get married without Caleb by my side. My best friend. My Twin in all sense of the world. My only Family.

I wasn't even in a white dress. I was still in my black gown. I didn't expect Damien would drive us to the registry immediately after signing the contract.

The stupid jerk didn't even inform me before dumping me at the doors of the registry.

Damien slid the signed document back to the registrar without even blinking an eye. His deep voice carried no emotion when he said, “Done.”

I felt my stomach twist. Done? That was it? Just like that?

Before I could even gather myself, he turned to me.

“There is a party tonight,” he said, as if announcing the weather to me. “Be ready and make sure you dress the part. You’ve already spent enough money on shopping, so I expect it to at least show on you.” "I can't have people thinking I found you on the streets".

I blinked, annoyed. Dress the part? I wasn’t auditioning for some play.

And what did he mean "found you on the streets". Even without his money I still made sure I looked presentable no matter where I go. I clenched my hands and decided to be civilised.

“What party?” I asked.

“A family and business gathering. The purpose is simple, it's a good opportunity to introduce you.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, his eyes sharp on me. “You’re going to be my wife. Everyone needs to believe it was love at first sight… so much that we couldn’t wait another day to marry. That is the story so just stick to that.”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. “Love at first sight, huh? Sounds very romantic for a man nicknamed "Manhattan's Biggest Playboy.”

His jaw tightened, but that perfect, stupid smug expression never cracked.

“Try not to mess this up. I hope you can at least act.”

I tilted my head, forcing a sweet smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be the perfect, smitten little wife. You’ll almost believe it yourself.”

His lips curved slightly. “We’ll see about that.”

Mark cleared his throat behind us, trying to cut the tension but neither Damien or I looked at him.

As we walked, the weight of the signed paper pressed on me like a heavy load. I was officially Mrs. Damien Blackwood.

As we walked toward the car, my mind kept buzzing. Tonight I was supposed to smile, laugh, touch his arm and gaze at him with the eyes of a woman completely and utterly in love. I had to play my role so well that no one in that room would ever doubt me.

But inside, my chest felt heavy. How long could I keep this up? A year of pretending and giving fake smiles and performances.

How would I even mention this marriage to Caleb, I wondered

The car door shut softly behind me, cutting off the sounds of traffic. Damien slid into the seat beside me, silent, composed and unreadable as always.

I turned my face to the window, hiding the storm in my chest.

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t marriage. This was a deal.

But tonight, under the watching eyes of his world, I had to make them believe otherwise.

And as the car began to move, one thought burned into me like fire:

This was only the beginning of the real performance.