Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 9

The registrar’s name was Gerald. He had the kind of face that said he’d seen everything — secret weddings, terrible decisions, probably at least one bride running out before the vows. Braah, this dude was totally unfazed.He looked at me first — sitting straight-backed in my interview blazer, the folder of resumes I no longer needed tucked under my chair. Then at Caelum, calm as you please, like marrying a stranger was just another item ticked off his morning schedule. Then at the paperwork Ms. Hale had already arranged — ID, certificates, two witnesses, everything ready.Everyone prepared. Everyone except me.“So how long have you two known each other?” Gerald asked.“Long enough,” Caelum said. “We’re married now, aren’t we?”Gerald turned to me, waiting for a real answer.“He moves quickly,” I said, smiling. “It’s one of his better qualities.”Beside me, Caelum made a quiet sound — half huff, half laugh. I noticed. Don’t ask me why, but I was already keeping tabs on my husband.Gera

By Friday morning — Day 3, eight nights remaining — I’d learned this much about Caelum Vance:He woke before six without an alarm, had done so long enough that it felt less like discipline and more like breath. He drank his coffee black and scalding, and made it himself every morning despite having staff who’d happily step in — because, as he’d put it Thursday with the kind of honesty he didn’t seem to notice was honesty: “It’s the only thing in the morning that’s just mine.”He read physical documents even when the same file was open on his laptop three feet away. He kept his father’s watch wound and set perfectly but never checked it for the actual time — that’s what his phone was for. The watch wasn’t about telling time at all.He didn’t know his own favorite food. I was fixing that. Thursday night I’d made a simple roast chicken — just herbs, heat, and patience — and he’d eaten more than I expected, then said, sounding genuinely surprised: “That was good.” I mentally ticked roast

“My father’s death was an accident. That’s what everyone said. But I never believed it.”The words hung between us like smoke — thick, choking, impossible to wave away. I reached for him before I thought, my hand curling around his arm, and he flinched. Not from me — from the memory.“What do you mean you never believed it?” I said soft as I could. “Caelum…”He turned his back, stared out at the skyline like the answer was written somewhere in the glass and steel. “They said he drove off the road late at night. Rain-slicked highway. Fell asleep at the wheel. Open-and-shut.” He paused, voice scraping raw. “He didn’t fall asleep. My father never drove when he was tired. Never drank and drove. And he always took the scenic route home — not the highway.”My stomach twisted tight. “So who…?”“I don’t know.” He faced me again, grey eyes stormy. “But I know Diana moved into the house three weeks later. And I know she started signing papers my father hadn’t finished. And I know —” He cut hims

The sirens swelled through the river fog, sharp and echoing off the old boathouse’s wooden walls. Caelum’s fingers wrapped firmly around my wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but urgent — a silent warning to run. We slipped out the half‑open door, kept our heads low, and hurried along the muddy dock toward the bend where our unmarked car waited. Behind us, floodlights suddenly flared to life, cutting through the mist. Two uniformed officers stepped onto the dock. “Stop! Stay right there!” My heart hammered. “Did Diana call them?” I breathed. “Not yet certain,” Caelum muttered, pulling me behind a thick stand of riverside willows. “They might only be responding to a routine disturbance call — or it could be bait.” We crouched in damp grass, watching as the officers peered into the boathouse, then radioed something back to their unit. After three tense minutes, they turned and walked away, no search party fanning out to hunt us. Once their footsteps faded, we crept back toward the