Elara's POV
Lily survived, but barely.
I stare at the hospital discharge papers Cain handed me this morning, my coffee going cold in my hands. His sister spent three days in ICU because of me. Because I signed that marriage contract. Because I became a weapon Marcus could use against Cain.
"Stop blaming yourself," Sage says, sitting across from me in the café. "Those psychos would've hurt her anyway."
"But they did it because of me," I whisper.
The café door chimes, and my stomach drops.
It's a courier. Professional. Impersonal. He walks straight to me with an envelope that might as well be a death sentence.
"Elara Winters?"
I nod.
He hands me the envelope and leaves without another word.
My hands shake as I open it.
NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE
Amount Due: $200,000
Due Date: 30 days from receipt
Failure to pay will result in seizure of property and all assets contained within.
The number blurs. Two hundred thousand dollars. In thirty days.
"That's impossible," Sage grabs the paper. "Your debt was only seventy thousand last month. How did it—"
"They inflated it." My voice sounds hollow. "Someone bought up all my debts and accelerated the payments. It's in the fine print."
I flip to the back page, and there it is: Debt acquired by Meridian Holdings LLC.
Sage searches it on her phone. "Meridian Holdings is a shell corporation. Owned by..." Her face goes pale. "Chen Pharmaceuticals."
Of course. Of course it is.
They're not just coming for me. They're taking everything piece by piece. First my reputation, then my gallery, now my mother's café—the last place where I can still feel her presence.
My phone buzzes. I don't want to look, but I can't help it.
It's a social media notification. Someone tagged me in a post.
I click it, and my world tilts.
SEATTLE MAGAZINE: "True Love Triumphs: Marcus Chen and Vivienne Winters Announce Engagement"
The photo is perfect. Marcus in a designer suit, Vivienne in a white dress, both of them glowing with fake happiness. The headline makes me want to throw up:
"Finding Real Love After Heartbreak: How Marcus and Vivienne Discovered Their Soulmate Connection"
I scroll through the article with shaking hands.
"We never meant for it to happen," Vivienne says, dabbing her eyes. "We fought our feelings for so long because we didn't want to hurt Elara. But true love can't be denied."
Marcus adds, "Elara and I realized we weren't right for each other. She was bitter about her past, unable to move forward. Vivienne showed me what real partnership looks like."
When asked about the viral video, Vivienne smiles sadly. "My sister has always struggled with jealousy. We hope she finds peace and happiness someday. We've forgiven her for the terrible things she said about us."
They're forgiving me.
For the terrible things I said.
The article paints me as the villain—the bitter ex-fiancée who couldn't accept that Marcus found happiness. They've rewritten the entire story, and Seattle society is eating it up. The comments are vicious:
"Poor Marcus. Dodged a bullet with that one."
"Vivienne is so classy for forgiving her sister."
"Once trash, always trash."
The café walls start closing in. My chest tightens. I can't breathe.
"Elara?" Sage's voice sounds far away.
I stumble toward the storage room, needing darkness, needing to be alone before I completely fall apart.
The tiny room smells like coffee beans and my mother's lavender perfume—I keep a bottle hidden back here, spray it sometimes when I miss her too much.
I sink to the floor, my back against boxes of supplies, and let the panic attack take me.
They're winning. The Chens, the Winters, Marcus, Vivienne—they're destroying me and making the world applaud while they do it.
I'm going to lose the café. I have no money, no reputation, no options. In thirty days, I'll have nothing left of my mother except memories.
The storage room door opens.
"Sage, I just need a minute—"
"Not Sage."
I look up, and Cain Ashford is standing in the doorway.
He looks different today. Tired. Dangerous. Like he hasn't slept since Lily's accident. His suit is wrinkled, his tie loose, and there's a hardness in his gray eyes that wasn't there before.
"How did you—"
"Your friend let me in." He closes the door behind him, and suddenly the small space feels even smaller. "I saw the foreclosure notice. And the magazine article."
"Congratulations," I say bitterly. "You're looking at Seattle's most hated woman. Again."
He crouches down in front of me, eye level. "Marry me."
I laugh. It comes out hysterical, broken. "You already proposed, remember? I signed your contract. And look what happened—your sister almost died."
"Not that marriage." His voice is intense, focused. "A real one. Public. Immediate. Tomorrow if possible."
"Are you insane?"
"Probably." He pulls out his phone, shows me something. "But I'm also serious. This is what I'm offering: I pay off your debt today. All of it. The café stays yours. I restore your reputation by making you Mrs. Cain Ashford—the Ice King's chosen wife. Suddenly, Seattle society has to accept you or face me."
"Why would you—"
"Because they came after Lily. Because they're going to come after you next. Because that foreclosure notice is just the beginning—they want you desperate, isolated, easy to eliminate." His jaw clenches. "I should have moved faster. I should have protected you better."
"This isn't your fault."
"Yes, it is." Something raw flashes in his eyes. "Your mother saved my life. She spent years protecting me from the shadows. And I let her daughter become a target because I was too careful, too strategic. No more."
He pulls out a document. An actual marriage license application, already filled out.
"One year contract, like before. But this time, everyone knows. Public wedding, public marriage, public destruction of everyone who hurt you. I give you everything you need to survive—money, protection, power. You give me a wife my board can't argue with and help me take down the families who murdered our parents."
"What happens after a year?"
"Quiet divorce. You walk away with enough money to never worry again. Plus the café, the gallery reopened, and your reputation restored. I get the satisfaction of watching Marcus and Vivienne's faces when they realize they made you untouchable."
It sounds too good to be true. It probably is.
"There has to be a catch."
"The catch is that they'll hate you even more. They'll try harder to kill you. And you'll have to pretend to be in love with me in public, which I'm told is difficult since I have the personality of a glacier."
Despite everything, I almost smile. "You're not that bad."
"I'm worse." He's serious. "I'm ruthless, Elara. I destroy people professionally. I will burn the Chen and Winters families to the ground and smile while I do it. If you marry me, you're choosing war."
"They already chose war when they killed my mother."
"Then what's your answer?"
I should think about this. Consider the consequences. Maybe consult a lawyer who isn't terrified of the Chen family.
But I look at the foreclosure notice crumpled in my hand, think about Marcus and Vivienne's smug magazine photos, remember my mother's last smile before she died, and suddenly the choice is crystal clear.
"Yes." My voice is steady. "I'll marry you."
Something flickers in Cain's eyes—relief, maybe, or triumph. "Tomorrow. City hall. Just us and witnesses."
"That fast?"
"That necessary. They're planning something big. My investigators found evidence of a board meeting scheduled at Winters Pharmaceuticals next week. They're going to officially disinherit you, claim your grandmother was mentally incompetent when she left you anything. If they succeed before we're married, it'll be harder to fight."
He pulls out another paper. A prenuptial agreement. "This protects you. Everything I give you is yours, no matter what. The café, the money, future assets. Sign here."
I read it quickly. It's shockingly generous. Suspiciously so.
"Why are you really doing this?" I whisper. "It can't just be because you owe my mother."
Cain is quiet for a long moment. Then: "Because when I saw you on that bridge three weeks ago, something in me recognized something in you. Two people who lost everything. Two people who survived when they should have broken. Two people who deserve revenge."
He hands me a pen.
"And maybe," he says softly, "because I'm tired of being alone in the dark."
I sign my name.
The moment the ink dries, Cain's phone buzzes. He reads the message and goes deadly still.
"What?" I demand.
He shows me.
It's a photo. Taken from across the street. Through the café window. Of me and Cain in the storage room.
The text below: "Cute. But she'll be dead before the wedding. See you at the funeral, Ashford. - M.C."
Marcus knows. He's watching. And he's promised to kill me before I can become Cain's wife.
"We move now," Cain says, already pulling me to my feet. "Pack a bag. You're coming with me."
"I can't just—"
"They've got a sniper on the building across the street." His voice is deadly calm. "We have approximately three minutes before they get a clean shot. Move."
As if on cue, the café window explodes.
Glass shatters everywhere. Sage screams from the front room. And a bullet hole appears in the wall exactly where my head was thirty seconds ago.
Cain throws me to the ground, covering me with his body as more shots fire.
"Stay down!" he shouts.
Through the chaos, I hear footsteps. Running. Coming closer.
They're not just shooting from a distance.
They're coming inside to finish the job.