CHAPTER 5:ASK HIM ABOUT THE ACCOUNTS

By noon, it was everywhere…a digital wildfire spreading faster than anyone in the Kane empire could contain.

Kane Heir's Secret Affair. Bride's Sister Steps In While Fiancée Fights For Her Life.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the cold screen of my phone illuminating my face as I scrolled through headline after relentless headline. Cruel words dissected my body, my character, and my intentions, strangers deciding exactly what kind of gold-digging monster I was without knowing a single true thing about that terrible night in the study.

My skin burned with a sickening heat. My body still carried the lingering, physical memory of Ryker's hands on my hips…the phantom weight of his broad frame pressing me down into the mahogany desk, and the humiliation of it twisted like a knife in my chest.

My phone vibrated violently in my hand. Julian.

I pressed it to my ear. "Julian..."

"Tell me you're okay," he demanded instantly, his voice tight with panic. "Selene, I'm looking at the tabloids right now…"

"I'm not okay, Julian," I whispered, my voice breaking as I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my bare knees against my chest. "He thought I was her. The whole time he was touching me... he thought I was Vivian."

A long, devastated breath rattled through the receiver. "Selene... Jesus Christ. I'm coming over right now."

"Don't," I said quickly, wiping a rogue tear from my cheek. "His father called an emergency meeting at the estate. I have to go."

"You don't owe those monsters a single damn thing!"

"I owe my family a name that isn't completely dragged through the dirt!" I argued back, my tone sharpening with desperate resolve. "That isn't the same thing."

"You're already talking like you're going to say yes to whatever insane arrangement they pitch in that room!"

"I don't know what else to do, Julian! The entire city thinks I seduced my sister's fiancé while she's missing!"

"Refuse! Walk away!" Julian pleaded. "Let the headlines burn out the way they always do!"

"It's not that simple, and you know it."

"It never is with you," he sighed, sounding utterly exhausted and worried. "Just promise me one thing, Selene. Promise me you won't sign anything without asking for something in return. Protect yourself."

"I promise."

I hung up before he could push further, stepping over to my closet with trembling legs. I didn't have the strength to survive another argument today.

When I arrived at the Kane Estate, the atmosphere inside was suffocating. Heavy dark velvet curtains had been drawn shut across the floor-to-ceiling windows to block out the swarm of paparazzi cameras camped outside the iron gates.

Ryker's father was already pacing the Persian rug like a caged predator, his tailored suit immaculate, his face hard as flint.

Ryker sat in a leather armchair near the unlit hearth. He had stripped off his suit jacket, his white dress shirt open at the throat, dark shadow clinging to his jaw. When I walked in, his tempestuous green gaze snapped to mine, and for a terrifying second, the charged, electric static of what we had done in the dark filled the room. The memory of his mouth on mine, of his heat buried deep within me, flared between us like an open flame. He looked away first, his jaw clenching tightly.

"You will marry her," his father said without missing a beat, not even bothering to offer me a seat. "Immediately. Quietly. Before this scandal destroys the company's valuation."

"Marry her?" Ryker's baritone was flat, laced with cold, dangerous disbelief. He looked up at his father, his eyes narrowing. "There has to be another way to contain this."

"There isn't!" his father snapped, pausing his pacing to glare down at his son. "Unless you would prefer to explain to our board of shareholders exactly why a young woman left this house at dawn with her dress disheveled looking frightened? Would you like to explain that to the press yourself, Miss Marlowe?"

His sharp, calculating eyes cut to me.

"No," I said quietly, lifting my chin, refusing to shrink under his gaze. "I wouldn't."

"Then it's settled."

Ryker didn't argue further. He slumped back into the leather chair, his long legs stretched out, staring at the polished floorboards like a man calculating the exact cost of his own ruin.

I took a slow breath, remembering Julian's warning, and stepped forward into the center of the room. I had conditions of my own, and this time, I wasn't going to let anyone speak for me.

"A house," I declared, my voice echoing clearly against the high ceilings. "In my name alone. Unrestricted financial independence that I control myself. And when this arrangement ends…and it will end, I walk away completely clean. No legal fighting, no custody battles over assets, no delays."

Ryker's father studied me for a long, heavy moment. Something sharp and calculating shifted behind his dark eyes as he assessed the lush, formidable woman standing before him.

"You're negotiating," he noted smoothly.

"I'm surviving," I countered, crossing my arms over my chest. "There's a difference, but I understand if that concept is foreign to a man like you."

A ghost of a cold smile touched his lips. "You'll get your house. And your money." He spoke as if crossing an item off a corporate ledger. "Anything else, Miss Marlowe?"

"One more thing." I turned my head and looked directly at Ryker for the first time since entering the study. "I want it in writing that whatever happens between us behind closed doors stays between us. No press statements regarding my personal life without my written approval. No version of this story that isn't at least partly mine."

Ryker's father exchanged a brief, silent glance with his son. A subtle calculation passed between them.

"Fine," he agreed.

"Fine," I repeated. The word tasted strange on my tongue…heavy, foreign, like signing my name to a sentence I hadn't chosen.

Late that night, as I was gathering my coat to leave, Ryker trapped me in the dimly lit hallway outside the study, a thick Manila folder tucked under his heavy arm.

He towered over me, his broad shoulders blocking the hallway sconces, radiating an overwhelming wall of heat that made my heart hammer against my ribs. He smelled of dark whiskey and leather, a scent that instantly made my skin prickle with unwanted desire.

"There's something we need to discuss," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the folder, avoiding my face. "The wedding photos. Press events. My family expects a very specific image."

"Okay," I said quietly, bracing myself against the oak paneling.

"You're not exactly what people picture when they envision my wife." He delivered it flatly, clinically, as if reading specs off an assembly sheet. "There will be public comments. About your size. About your curves taking up space next to me. I won't be spending my valuable time managing those headlines, and I certainly won't be apologizing for people noticing what I already noticed the moment I agreed to marry you."

I stood utterly frozen. Something deep inside my chest folded in on itself, a cold, sharp blade slicing through my dignity, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing a single tear. I held my broad shoulders back, taking up every inch of space I possessed.

"Understood," I said, my voice smooth and terrifyingly steady.

Ryker paused, his green eyes snapping up to mine, searching my face. "You don't have anything to say to that?"

"What would you like me to say, Ryker? That it hurts?" I took a slow step closer to him, looking straight into his eyes. "You'd only enjoy that far too much."

"I don't enjoy any of this," he growled, his raspy voice dropping into a dangerous register.

"You certainly deliver your cruelty with remarkable talent for someone who claims not to enjoy it."

Something flickered across his hard features…a crack in his arrogant facade, a flash of genuine surprise, or perhaps the closest thing to guilt he was capable of feeling. But he didn't apologize. I hadn't expected him to.

The wedding took place eleven days later.

It was small, cold, and calculated…held in a drafty marble chapel with a single photographer paid a fortune to make a transactional nightmare look like a fairy tale romance.

I refused to let my mother or his team dress me like a problem to be disguised. I chose my own gown: a heavy, ivory silk dress that fitted my body impeccably, clinging to the lush swell of my bust, accentuating the narrow waist beneath, and cascading over the generous curve of my hips. I took up space, beautiful and unapologetic.

Ryker stood at the altar in a razor-sharp black tuxedo. He didn't look at me once during the entire vows. When he slid the heavy diamond band onto my finger, his long fingers were ice-cold, his touch lingering just long enough to send a shudder down my spine.

My mother wept quietly in the front pew through the entire service, though I couldn't tell if her tears were born of relief or shame. My father shook Ryker's hand afterward with a firm, practiced grip, like two businessmen closing an acquisition rather than a father handing his daughter over to a man who couldn't stand the sight of her.

Later that evening, during the quiet reception on the estate terrace, Elise Kane found me sitting alone in a wrought-iron chair, staring out at the dark gardens. She settled into the seat beside mine, her silver-topped cane resting between her knees.

"You look like a woman who would rather be anywhere else on earth," she murmured softly.

"Is it really that obvious?" I asked, taking a small sip from my wine glass.

"Only to someone who has sat in that exact chair under similar circumstances," Elise replied gently. She turned her sharp eyes on me, assessing me with warmth. "For what it's worth, Selene, you handled that room full of wolves today better than anyone in this family gave you credit for."

"It didn't feel like anything worth being proud of," I whispered, looking down at the heavy diamond glittering mockingly on my finger.

"Surviving rarely does," she said softly. She reached over and placed her cool hand over mine, her grip surprisingly firm and reassuring. "You are so much stronger than this family has ever bothered to notice, child. I've known that for a long time."

I looked at her, brow furrowing. "You barely know me, Elise."

"I know far more than you think," she said, her voice laced with a subtle weight that made me pause. She patted my hand gently, letting a quiet silence settle over the terrace, a silence that felt surprisingly safe amidst the storm. "Whatever happens next in this house, remember that you have at least one person here who sees you clearly. I intend to keep it that way."

"Why?" I asked, my throat tight.

"Because someone should have, a very long time ago."

Before I could process her words, my phone vibrated sharply against my thigh.

I pulled it from my clutch. A text message from an unknown, encrypted number.

You have no idea what you just married into. Ask him about the accounts before it's too late.

I stared at the glowing screen, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs. The quiet warmth of the terrace instantly vanished, replaced by an icy dread that settled deep in my stomach.

With shaking thumbs, I typed back: Who is this?

The reply flashed across the screen a second later:

Someone who's been watching this family longer than you have. Watch your back, new Mrs. Kane.

I slowly lifted my eyes. Elise was watching me with an unreadable expression, her dark eyes reflecting the dim terrace lights. And in that terrifying moment, a cold certainty washed over me: whatever dark web I had just married into was far bigger, and far more dangerous, than a single mistake in the dark.

Heyyy my loves, IceWitch here! 🖤✨

Okay so I need y'all to know I have been LIVING inside Selene's head for the last five chapters and I am not okay, but in the fun way. That text at the end of chapter 5?? I planted that seed so long ago in my notes and I have been WAITING to finally let it loose on you guys. Someone out there knows something, and no, it's not who you think (or... is it 👀).

Also can we talk about Ryker for a second. I know. I KNOW. He said the thing about the wedding photos and half of you are already in my comments plotting his downfall and honestly? Valid. Let him cook a little longer though, because the version of him waiting on the other side of this book is going to make every single insult worth it. I promise you that.

Selene deserves the whole world and I am having way too much fun making her fight for it. If you're loving this as much as I'm loving writing it, drop a comment, add to library and support this book with your gems, and tell me who you think sent that text. I read every single one of your theories and some of you are scarily close.

New chapter dropping soon, don't touch that dial 😌

XOXO ~ IceWitch