MARRIED TO THE WRONG MARLOWE

"Well?" Simone appeared at my elbow, coffee cup in hand. "Real or fake?"

I leaned closer to the canvas, my magnifying glass catching the afternoon light streaming through Simone's gallery windows. The signature read "Monet," but my gut said otherwise. Three years of authentication work had taught me to trust that gut.

"The signature's too confident," I said, tracing the air above the paint. "Monet's hand shook in his later years. This is steady. Someone copied his style but forgot to copy his arthritis."

Simone laughed. "That's why you're the expert and I just sell pretty pictures."

I smiled, setting down the glass. This was my favorite part of the job. The hunt. The proof. The satisfaction of catching a lie hidden in plain sight.

My phone buzzed. Dad's name flashed across the screen.

I almost didn't answer. We hadn't spoken in one week, not since I'd skipped another one of his networking dinners. But something about the timing felt off. Dad never called during work hours.

"I need to take this."

Simone waved me toward her office. I slipped inside and closed the door.

"Dad?"

"Come home. Now." His voice was flat. Empty. I'd heard that tone exactly once before, the day Mom died.

My stomach dropped. "What happened? Is someone hurt?"

"Just come home, Nora. We need to talk. As a family."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, dread pooling cold in my chest. A family meeting. Nothing good ever came from those words in the Sutherland household.

---

I arrived at Sutherland Manor. The fountain in the circular driveway had been dry for months. We couldn't afford to run it anymore, though Dad would never admit that out loud.

I parked my beat-up Honda between Derek's Mercedes and Dad's Bentley. Both cars we couldn't afford either, but appearances mattered more than bills in our world.

The front door was unlocked. I found them in Dad's study: my father behind his mahogany desk, Derek standing by the window, and a woman I didn't recognize sitting in the corner chair, crying into her hands.

"Nora." Dad didn't stand. "Close the door."

I did, my hand trembling slightly on the handle. Derek wouldn't look at me. That was never a good sign.

"Someone want to tell me what's going on?"

"Your brother has created a problem," Dad said.

Derek flinched but stayed silent.

I looked between them. "What kind of problem?"

The woman in the corner let out a sob. Derek finally turned, and I saw it then. The guilt written all over his face. The same expression he'd worn at twelve when he'd crashed Dad's car.

"Derek, what did you do?"

"I got married," he said quietly.

The words didn't make sense at first. "You what?"

"Six months ago. In secret." He gestured toward the crying woman. "This is Charlotte. My wife."

I stared at him. At her. At the simple gold band on her finger that matched the one on his.

"You're joking."

"I wish he were," Dad said, his voice like ice.

The pieces started clicking together. Derek was supposed to marry someone from the Marlowe family. It was arranged years ago, a business merger disguised as a match. The Marlowes had money and power. We had a name and a dying legacy. Together, we'd all survive.

"The Marlowe arrangement," I breathed.

"Void," Dad confirmed. "Derek's marriage violates the contract. The Marlowes are furious."

"So apologize. Fix it. Derek can get an annulment or..."

"It's too late for that." Dad's fingers drummed once on the desk. A tell. He only did that when things were truly bad. "The Marlowes have called in our debts. All of them. We have thirty days before the creditors seize everything."

The room tilted slightly. "Everything?"

"The house. The cars. The business accounts. Your mother's jewelry collection." He paused. "Unless we can salvage the arrangement."

I looked at Derek. He was still staring out the window like a coward.

"Let me guess," I said slowly. "You want me to marry whoever Derek was supposed to marry."

"Sterling Marlowe," Dad confirmed. "Eldest son. He's agreed to accept a substitute bride if we move quickly."

The laugh that escaped me was sharp and bitter. "A substitute. Like I'm some product you can swap out."

"Nora..."

"No." I stepped back toward the door. "Absolutely not. I'm not some medieval princess you can trade for peace. Find another way."

"There is no other way." Dad stood finally, and I saw how tired he looked. How old. "We're ruined, Nora. Completely. Do you understand? The staff will be let go. The house will be auctioned. Your mother's legacy will be scattered to strangers."

"That's not my fault!"

"No. It's mine." Derek's voice cracked. He finally turned to face me. "I'm sorry. I love Charlotte. I couldn't… I couldn't marry someone else. Not even for the family."

"But I can?" The words came out sharper than I meant them.

Derek's silence was answer enough.

I looked at Charlotte, still crying quietly in the corner. She looked terrified. Young. Maybe twenty-three, twenty-four. She probably had no idea what kind of family she'd married into.

"The Marlowes expect an answer by tomorrow morning," Dad said. "You'll meet Sterling at the contract signing. The wedding would be in two weeks."

"Two weeks?" I couldn't breathe. "You're insane. All of you."

"I'm practical." Dad moved around the desk, his lawyer face sliding into place. "This is business, Nora. The marriage contract includes separate living arrangements if you want them. A generous allowance. You can keep your career. After three years, the contract dissolves automatically unless both parties agree to continue."

Three years. He said it like it was nothing. Like three years of my life was a fair trade for Derek's happiness.

"I'm not a bargaining chip," I said.

Dad's expression didn't change. "You're the only chip we have left."

The words hit like a slap. Cold. True. Devastating.

I was the spare daughter. The one who'd never been quite pretty enough, quite charming enough, quite anything enough. Mom had loved me anyway, but Mom was gone. And now I was useful for exactly one thing.

Saving everyone else.

I thought about the staff who'd worked for us for decades. Mrs. Patterson, who'd taught me to bake cookies when I was six. James, who'd driven me to school every day for twelve years. They'd lose their jobs because Derek fell in love.

I thought about Mom's jade bracelet, the only thing of hers I wore every day. Some stranger pawing through her jewelry, buying her memories.

I thought about my work at the gallery, my small, quiet life that was mine.

And I thought about how none of it mattered. Because this was the price of being a Sutherland.

"I need to think about it," I whispered.

"Tomorrow morning," Dad repeated. "Nine AM. The Marlowes won't wait longer than that."

I left without another word. Behind me, I heard Charlotte crying harder. Derek murmuring to her. Dad's chair creaking as he sat down again.

I made it to my car before my hands started shaking.

*The Marlowe family expects an answer by tomorrow morning. You'll meet your husband-to-be at the signing.*

I don't even have any idea who the jerk is or what he looks like.

I gripped the steering wheel and stared at the manor. At the life I was about to lose either way.

I don't even know the motherfucker they want me to marry.