Chapter 4

"As for Cathy," Sam said, "I'll smooth things over with her later."

Utterly disappointed, I dragged myself upright, gripping the chair for support. "Sam, this is the last time I say your name. You and the Lombard family can do whatever you want. This marriage? It never happened. Let Candace be Mrs. Whitman. She's welcome to it."

Without waiting for their responses, I staggered out of the room.

...

The next morning, at 9:50 a.m., I stood outside City Hall.

The sky hung heavy with gray clouds, mirroring the weight in my chest. I was about to call Fabio Schneider when a familiar car screeched to a stop in front of me.

Sam, Candace, and my almost-mother-in-law stepped out, their faces smug.

"I knew you'd show," Sam said, smirking. "All that tough talk, but here you are, ready to make nice."

He thought I had regretted my decision and came to register for our marriage. His mother, Vicky Whitman, crossed her arms and glared down her nose at me.

"Smart move," she snorted. "But let's be clear: in our house, you follow our rules. No more picking fights with Candace. She's our honored guest. Treat her like a sister."

Candace peeked from behind Sam, her expression mock-timid. "Cathy, don't be mad. I went too far yesterday. Can we just get along?"

Their performance drew a whispering crowd.

"What's with this girl? Throwing a fit and making her whole family beg her to get the license?"

"The guy is practically groveling, and she's still pouting."

Sam soaked up the attention, extending a hand with a patronizing air. "Alright, don't embarrass us in public. Apologize to Candace and promise to treat her right. I'll let last night's outburst slide. We'll go in and make it official."

He was certain I'd cave for the sake of the deal and my grandfather's legacy.

I looked at his smug face and laughed. "Get along with the woman who crashed my wedding night, yanked off my covers, and broadcast my humiliation? No thanks. Three is a crowd in bed. And who said I'm here to get the license with you?"

His smirk faltered, his face twisting with annoyance. "What's that supposed to mean? Stop playing games."

"You ungrateful hussy!" Vicky screeched. "My son's willing to marry you, and you're still acting high and mighty? One call from me, and your family is finished!"

I turned to leave, done with their noise. But Sam grabbed my arm, hissing, "You're not going anywhere until you explain! Are you cheating on me? Who's the guy?"

I shook him off, the needle mark from yesterday's blood-draw throbbing and bleeding anew. "You think I can't survive without you?"

"Can you?" he sneered.

"Go to hell!" I cursed, raising a middle finger.

A glance at my phone showed 10:00 a.m. on the dot. Humiliated and furious, Sam raised his hand to strike me.

I braced myself, turning away, but the blow never came. Instead, a cold voice cut through the air. "Let her go!"