The scent of lavender still clung to the air, even though the boutique hadn't made a real sale in seven days.
I stood behind the glass counter of Kay Couture, running my fingers over a half-finished bridal gown. I had started the piece months ago, before the bills, before the whispers that the once-famous boutique was sinking.
Five years ago, Kay Couture was launched and it was one of the most famous boutiques in town. Kay Couture was my fathers. But we all worked together. Before he died, everything was going well, we were outstandingly rich. I was an only child and for sure I got everything I wanted. I lived in a free world, went to parties with friends, always held house parties, went on vacations, and travelled multiple times. I had a lot of friends, some were rich too but nobody could beat me in spending money.
After two years of the launch, my father was diagnosed with kidney disease. We ran multiple operations but they only suppressed the pains he felt cause it came back over and over again, until he died a year after he was diagnosed. It was such a painful moment for me because he was the only one that made me feel loved.
My mum was just some sort of an I don't care type of mother. All she cared for was to keep getting money to spend when she's out with her friends. She never even cared about me. Not even for once have I felt motherly love. Due to reckless spending from my mum and her friends and I and my friends. When our family business began to go down, we were left with little because there was no savings at all.
It all started when my father got ill. He left the boutique in the hands of my mother to be managed. She had this rude way of behaving. She talked to customers anyhow whenever she was around, she intimidated our staff which made most of them resign and customers started drifting to other boutiques.
People no longer saw our boutique as one of the best anymore.
The little sales made, my mother would take most of the money and keep little and whenever i tried to talk to her, she would yell at me, saying there was enough savings to sustain us. But it was the savings we were using for my fathers treatment. At this point, I no longer cared about getting money to spend. All I prayed for was for my father to be healed and come back to managing the boutique.
But after everything, prayers and so much spending he died. I was in pain. I thought my life had come to an end but I kept moving.
It got worse when my mum left last year. "I'll be relocating soon." She said one morning as she was coming down the stairs.
"Are you for real?." I asked, turning to look at her as she walked into the kitchen.
I thought it was all a joke until a few weeks later, when I woke up to noises from outside, I came out to see my mum, her boyfriend Derick and two other men packing things to the SUV.
For a few seconds, I was speechless. I finally found words and I mouthed " Mom, what's going on here?."
"Told you I was relocating soon, today is soon" she said, hanging her arm around Derick's shoulder.
I felt very bad at the instance but I acted like I never cared. I cried so bad, and asked God why my life was like this. First my father died, our only source of income started going down, all my friends left me and now my mother.
She left that day and till now, I haven't heard anything from her.
Now it was just me, holding everything together with pins, thread, and prayers.
The bell over the door jingled. For a moment, I hoped it was a customer. It wasn't.
Two men in charcoal suits entered, carrying clipboards and a thin envelope with her name on it.
"Miss Kay?" the older one asked.
"Yes?"
"We're here on behalf of Crestline Bank… regarding your family's outstanding loan."
My stomach tightened.
They walked the shop slowly, clinically, as if estimating the value of the mannequins, the sewing machines, even the lights. When they were done, the older man placed the envelope on the counter.
"You have thirty days," he said. "Or the bank will begin repossession."
Thirty days.
Thirty days to find 20 million dollars I did not have.
After they left, I locked the door and slid to the floor, my back against the counter. I buried my face in my hands. I had already sold my car, downsized my apartment, and taken on two online jobs. Nothing was enough.
That was when my uncle called.
"Reece," he said. "I need you to come home. Now. There's something your father left behind. Something important."
My heart skipped. "Is it about the boutique?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "But it's… complicated."
I reached my family house just before sunset. My uncle, Hamsel, sat in the living room surrounded by files and a worn leather briefcase I hadn't seen since my father died.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Her uncle pushed a stack of documents toward me. "Your father set up a trust fund years ago. It was meant to protect the boutique… but there's a clause."
"A clause?" I repeated.
He cleared his throat.
"You can unlock the fund only if you marry a son of the family your father made deals with,"he added. "Marry… what?"
"It's an old business alliance," he continued. "Your father and Mr. Lawson were close. The trust was structured to merge the families someday. If you marry one of the sons in the family, the money becomes available immediately."
I laughed nervously, expecting someone to jump out and shout prank.
But my uncle's face stayed heavy.
"This isn't funny," I whispered. "You want me to marry a stranger to save the boutique?"
"I don't want you to do anything," he replied softly. "But the boutique is drowning… and this is the only lifeline left."
I pushed the papers away.
"No. Absolutely not."
My uncle nodded, as if he had expected the reaction. "At least meet them," he said. "The family asked for dinner. Tonight."
"Tonight?"
"They're already waiting."
I stared at the trust papers in silence. My father's signature looked back at me, steady and confident, as if he believed I would one day make this impossible choice.
Behind me, I could almost hear the sewing machines in the boutique.
Hear my father's voice saying, This shop is your legacy now. Keep it alive.
Thirty days.
A sinking business.
A trust fund locked behind a ring.
I swallowed hard and stood.
"Fine," I whispered. "I'll go to the dinner."
But as I walked toward the door, one truth settled heavily in my chest:
I wasn't going to that dinner to agree.
I was going to fight.
Because becoming someone's bride, fake or not, was never part of my life plan.
It was late evening already. I was dressing up and preparing for the so-called dinner when I got a text from my uncle.
UNCLE HAMSEL.
THE FAMILY CANCELLED THE DINNER AND SAID WE SHOULD LEAVE IT FOR ANOTHER DAY. I WOULD SUGGEST WE SEE THE LAWYER TOMORROW. GOODNIGHT.
I woke before dawn.
Sleep had refused me all night. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the bank officers walking through the boutique… my unfinished bridal gown… my father's signature on the trust papers… and the cold, glittering possibility of becoming a stranger's wife.
The Lawsons.
A name I barely knew yet was now chained to.
I showered quickly, dressed in a simple cream blouse and black trousers, tied my hair back, and forced myself to eat a spoonful of oats before giving up. My stomach churned too much.
My uncle was already waiting downstairs.
"You don't look like you slept," he said gently as he opened the car door.
"I didn't."
He gave a sympathetic nod. "The lawyer will explain things clearly. Just listen."
Listening, I thought bitterly, wasn't the problem.
Surviving whatever I heard, that was the challenge.
The law office was on the ninth floor of a glass building in Victoria Island, all sharp edges and silence. The receptionist led us into a conference room with tall windows and a polished wooden table.
The man waiting inside stood as they entered.
Tall, light-skinned, early fifties, with an impeccably tailored navy suit. His aura carried the crisp confidence of someone used to delivering uncomfortable truths.
"Miss Kay," he said. "I'm Barrister Hayes Lawson. I handled your father's trust arrangements."
I stiffened. "Lawson? As in?"
"Yes," he said calmly. "I'm the older brother of Mr. Lawson, the patriarch of the Lawson family. But in this room, I'm your father's legal representative."
So the lawyer was a Lawson.
Of course.
Why make this easier?
He gestured for us to sit. Then he placed a thick, leather-bound folder on the table.
"This," he said, tapping the folder, "is the complete documentation of the Kay–Lawson Marriage Trust Agreement."
"Please," I said tightly. "Just call it what it is."
"And what is that?" he asked.
"A trap."
My uncle inhaled sharply, but the lawyer merely folded his hands.
"Your father didn't intend to trap you, Miss Kay. He intended to protect the boutique. But circumstances… evolved."
He opened the folder.
"Let's begin."
THE FIRST TERM
She must marry a Lawson.
"This clause states," Barrister Lawson said, sliding a document toward me, "that the trust funds are released only when you legally marry a member of the Lawson bloodline."
I exhaled slowly. "I already know that part."
He nodded. "But what you don't know is that the clause specifically narrows your options. You must marry either of the four eligible heirs."
"Heirs?" I repeated.
"Yes. Adrian Lawson, Kade Lawson, Johnnie Lawson or Rhys Lawson.
The last name rang in my head like it was familiar but I shook it off.
My fingers froze on the paper.
"I've never met any of them."
"That is often the nature of arranged alliances," he said dryly.
I clenched my jaw. "I'm not part of some royal dynasty."
"No," he said. "But your father and their father built one together."
My uncle whispered, "Reece, your father trusted these people."
"Trusted," I echoed. "Past tense."
THE SECOND TERM
The marriage must last at least one calendar year.
"If you divorce before one full year," the barrister continued, "the trust collapses, the funds lock permanently, and the boutique becomes part of the Lawson business portfolio."
"So… if I leave the marriage early, they get the boutique?" I asked sharply.
"Yes."
"Why would I accept that?"
"Because if you don't marry at all," he said carefully, "the bank will repossess the boutique long before that year ends."
My pulse hammered in my ears.
THE THIRD TERM
Full cohabitation is required.
"You must live in the Lawson estate. The trust monitors residency through legal declarations and regular check-ins."
I stared at him, horrified. "You're telling me I have to live with a stranger?"
He nodded. "Yes. To prove the marriage is legitimate."
"And if I refuse?"
"The trust remains locked."
I pushed the papers away. "This is insane."
"No," he corrected. "This is legal."
THE FOURTH TERM
Public appearance requirement.
"You and your husband must attend a minimum of ten public or family events together. Failure to do so triggers a trust penalty."
"So I have to play the perfect wife in public."
"That is the essence of a marriage alliance."
My throat tightened.
This wasn't marriage.
It was performance.
THE FIFTH TERM
Non-disclosure agreement.
"This clause forbids you from revealing that the marriage is tied to the trust."
"So I can't even tell people it's fake?"
"You may not."
"What if I do?"
"Severe legal consequences. And the trust dissolves."
THE SIXTH TERM
The scale of the debt.
Barrister Lawson picked up a calculator and typed quietly.
"Now," he said, "let's discuss the financial hole."
He turned the paper toward me.
Her breath caught.
$45,700,000.
My voice cracked. "Forty-five… million?"
"Second loan," he said. "Added interest. Accrued penalties. Unpaid suppliers. Rent arrears."
I stared at the number as if it were a living animal, something sharp and hungry, crouched and waiting to swallow my whole.
My uncle bowed his head. "I'm sorry,Reece. We didn't know it was this bad."
"Your father knew," Barrister Lawson said softly. "He built the trust because he foresaw this outcome."
"So he expected me to marry a Lawson?" I demanded.
"He expected you to choose between the boutique and your autonomy."
That hurt more than I expected.
THE SEVENTH TERM
The Lawson family may select which heir you marry.
"Wait, what?" I asked, stunned. "I don't even get to choose?"
"Correct," the barrister replied. "The Lawson patriarch will decide which son is most… suitable."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "Perfect. So I'm livestock now."
My uncle whispered, "Reece…"
"No," I snapped, "I need to hear all of it."
Barrister Lawson folded his hands again.
"There is one final clause."
I braced herself.
THE EIGHTH TERM
Your withdrawal nullifies the boutique's ownership.
"If you reject the marriage outright," he said slowly, "the trust activates a backup clause. The boutique becomes Lawson property as compensation for breach of agreement."
I stared at him.
"You're saying… if I refuse to marry… I lose the boutique permanently?"
"Yes," he said gently. "Immediately."
My world tilted.
My chest tightened until I could barely breathe.
This wasn't just pressure.
It was a cage.
A beautifully built, elegantly worded, absolutely airtight cage.
The room was silent for a long time.
Then I whispered, "This is impossible."
Barrister Lawson closed the folder. "Miss Kay, impossible or not, these are your options."
I stood suddenly, the chair scraping loudly.
"I need air."
I walked to the window, my hands trembling as stared at the city below, cars crawling like insects, sunlight glinting off glass towers, people living normal lives untouched by contracts and cages.
My uncle joined me quietly.
"Reece… you don't have to decide today."
"No," I murmured, voice cracking. "But I have to decide soon. Because that boutique… it's all I have left of Mom. And Dad."
I turned back to the lawyer.
"I'll meet the Lawsons," I said quietly. "All of them. I won't agree to anything yet… but I'll hear them out."
Barrister Lawson nodded. "They expected you would."
My heart dropped. "They expected,?"
"Yes," he said. "In fact… Adrian Lawson requested the meeting personally."
I froze.
"Why?"
The lawyer gave a faint, unreadable smile.
"He believes you'll choose him."