Chapter Thirty
Lawliss
I push open the heavy glass doors of the Jefferson County Clerk’s Office, the air inside thick with the scent of paper and printer ink.
The first thing I see is Dzifa, standing in line toward the marriage license section. I raise a brow, making a beeline for her.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She barely glances at me, her expression unreadable. “Saving someone’s ass. You?”
“Here for my divorce certificate.”
“About time. Congrats, yeah.” She nods toward my hand, eyes dropping to the ring.
I had messaged her after leaving the hospital about the engagement and the pregnancy. And to say she was pissed that I didn’t tell her immediately? Understatement of the century. It took hours of pleading, begging, and letting her lecture me like I was a child before she finally calmed down.
Before I can say anything, someone calls her name.
“Dzifa!”
She pecks my cheek quickly. “I’ll talk to you later.” Then she’s gone, disappearing deeper into the office. I shake my head. Whatever she’s up to, I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I have my own business to handle.
I approach the records section, where a woman in a navy cardigan sits behind the counter. She barely looks up.
“Name?”
“Lawliss Dua.”
Her fingers clack against the keyboard. “And what are we looking for today, ma’am?”
“A copy of my divorce certificate with Derrick Maddox.”
That makes her look up, scanning me with mild interest. She definitely heard about my situation, considering it was on National television and in newspapers
“ID ? Please?” She asks, slightly adjusting herself to look presentable. Yeap, she knows.
I slide it across the counter. More typing. A pause. More typing, then her brows knit together.
“Huh.”
I lean in slightly. “What?”
She tilts her screen away, shaking her head like that’ll somehow fix whatever she’s seeing.
“There’s no divorce record for you and Derrick Maddox.”
I blink. “That’s not possible. The divorce was filed on my behalf. I signed all necessary documents and it was finalized four months ago. Can you check again?”
She gets back to the computer and then starts typing again. A deep frown creases her face before her expression shifts from confusion to something else entirely.
“Wait a second.” She squints at the screen. “Oh.”
A strange, cold sensation unfurls in my chest.
“Oh?” I echo.
She glances at me, then back at the monitor. “Miss Dua… you are married. But not to Derrick Maddox.”
The words don’t register at first. I let out a short laugh. “Excuse me?”
She spins the screen toward me, and my gaze locks onto the text in front of me. My breath catches somewhere in my throat.
MARRIAGE RECORD
Name : Lawliss Dua
Spouse : Edmund Ansah-Montgomery
Date : April 20, 2024
The room tilts.
What the actual fuck?
I take a step back, then forward again, my pulse hammering. My grip tightens around my purse strap.
“That’s a mistake,” I say firmly, though my own voice sounds foreign to me. “That can’t be right.”
The woman shrugs, completely unfazed. “No mistake. It looks like a courthouse wedding. All signed and sealed.”
A courthouse wedding? No. No. I would remember getting married. Wouldn’t I?
A flicker of memory stirs—something about a night in Florida. Eddie grinning, handing me a document. Laughter spilling between us. Me signing an unknown document he gave to me, barely reading it, thinking it was just some joke or—
My stomach drops.
Oh. Oh.
I press my fingers to my temples. “Can you print that for me?”
She nods, still side-eyeing me like she’s waiting for me to either laugh or faint. The printer hums, and seconds later, she slides the paper across the counter.
I pick it up with trembling fingers and the bold, black ink stares back at me, undeniable.
I am married. To Edmund Montgomery.
I close my eyes, willing myself to be steady.
Well. That’s one way to find out.
I grab my phone and text Eddie.
Lawliss: Where are you?
Eddie: Miss me already, Empress?
Lawliss: WHERE. ARE. YOU?
Eddie: Okay… I’m at headquarters. Tenth floor.
I lower my phone, my heart hammering against my ribs. I am not in a state to drive.
I hail a cab, sliding into the backseat. “M Industries,” I tell the driver, gripping the marriage certificate like it might disappear.
Eddie has a lot of explaining to do.
***
I march straight toward the elevator, barely registering my surroundings when I arrive. The receptionist at the front desk doesn’t stop me, probably because of something Eddie has said but I can’t bring myself to care.
I stabbed the button for the tenth floor. People step in and out, but I don’t see them. My mind is a whirlwind, my heart pounding too loudly in my chest. I feel like I might explode. Like I need to scream and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
If anyone has a problem with it, they can go fuck themselves.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. I storm out, my strides long and unrelenting. I don’t stop to ask where he is. I don’t need to. I throw open the first door I see.
Wrong room. A woman looks up at me, startled.
“Sorry,” I mutter, slamming the door shut and moving to the next one.
Empty.
I check another. And another. The last door is at the end of the hall. He has to be here.
I don’t stop to think. I shove the door open, and there he is, sitting at the head of a long conference table, sharp and composed, dressed in all black.
Eddie. My fucking husband apparently.
My grip tightens around the green-and-white paper in my hand, my pulse thrumming with rage.
“What the fuck, Edmund?” I shout, my voice ringing through the space.
Everyone in the room freezes. Some are already standing, clearly ready to leave, but now they really scramble, gathering their things.
Eddie’s face shifts the moment he sees what I’m holding.
His expression falls. He exhales slowly, measuredly. Then, his voice drops low, calm but lethal.
“Out.” No one moves.
“I said get out.” The authority in his voice is enough to have them practically tripping over themselves in their rush toward the door. I take a step back, suddenly unsure.
His gaze snaps to me, sharp and deliberate.
“Not you, Empress,” he says, voice softer but still firm.
I watch as he turns toward the massive screen behind him, only now realizing he’s still on a video call.
Governor Grason Lockwood.
Of course.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate. “Apologies, Governor. Can we reschedule? My wife needs me.”
He ends the call before I can even process the words.
My stomach twists.
My wife.
A bitter, incredulous laugh bubbles out of me. I shake my head, then shake the paper in my hand.
“Is this why you’ve been calling me ‘wife’?” I demand, waving the certificate.
He doesn’t react. Doesn’t flinch. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch.
I breathe in, then out, trying to steady myself, but before I know it, my vision blurs.
Tears. Fucking tears.
I swipe at my face angrily, hating that I’m crying. I hate that he has done this to me.
“You looked me in the face,” I whisper, voice trembling, “and lied to me. When I asked you not to. When I begged you not to.”
Eddie exhales, his expression unreadable. “I—”
“What was the purpose of the proposal?” I cut him off. “Was it just for show? A fucking joke? Is marriage a joke to you?”
His face hardens instantly. “No, Empress. No, my love.”
“I said don’t fucking call me that!” I snap, voice breaking.
Silence stretches between us.
Eddie clenches his fists at his sides, then unclenches them, his control razor-thin. “I never lied to you.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “You never lied to me?” I repeat, voice dripping with disbelief. “You knew we were married and still got down on one knee and asked me to marry you?” My voice rises with every word. “You don’t think that’s lying? That’s manipulating, Edmund!”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?” I throw my arms out. “On our first anniversary? When we had kids? On your deathbed?”
His face darkens at the mention of kids, his jaw twitching. I should be telling him I’m pregnant and that we’re having a baby and I’m scared but the pain
I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, now you have something to say?”
“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers.
The great Edmund Montgomery apologizing. I would have laughed; it was a different setting or situation. I should feel victorious. Like I finally have the upper hand. But all I feel is this unbearable ache in my chest.
He steps closer. Too close. His warmth reaches me before his hands do, and my breath hitches despite myself. Even now, even after this, I still crave him.
Pathetic.
I let the tears fall. I don’t wipe them. I want him to see what he’s done to me. I need him to see it.
“I don’t like seeing you cry,” he says, voice thick with something dangerously close to panic. “It kills me that I’m the reason for this.” His thumb brushes under my eye, catching a tear before it falls. “Tell me what to do, Empress. Anything. I’ll fix it.”
I laugh. A hollow, bitter sound.
“Anything?” I repeat, my voice cracking. “Except divorce, right?”
His grip on me tightens.
“Except divorce,” he confirms, low and rough. “Because I will not lose you.” His thumb moves to my jaw, tilting my face up. “You’re my sunshine, my moonlight, the light at the end of my tunnel.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Please, Lynx.”
Something in me shatters.
I don’t know if it’s the way he says my name or the way his hands tremble slightly even as they hold me firm. Maybe it’s the way his blue eyes, which are always so sharp and calculating in boardrooms, are now wide, desperate and pleading.
But none of it changes the fact that he lied to me. That he stole a moment I can never get back. That he made a choice for me when it should have been mine to make.
My throat tightens. I swallow against the lump forming there.
“I need space,” I whisper.
Eddie flinches. His hands drop to my waist, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
“No,” he says immediately. “Lynx, no. We can be happy. We are happy.”
“Were,” I correct, stepping back.
His grip tightens for a second, but he lets me go. Barely.
His chest rises and falls, too controlled, like he’s trying not to break. Then, suddenly, he exhales a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.
“I should have known you’d react this way,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
Something in my stomach twists.
“How the hell else was I supposed to react, Edmund?” My voice is sharp, edged with betrayal. “You looked me in the face and lied to me. You proposed to me knowing damn well we were already married. Do I look like a joke to you? Do you find my life funny?”
“No,” he says instantly, shaking his head. “No, my love.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He closes his eyes for half a second, like the words physically hurt him. When he opens them again, his jaw is tight, and his voice steadier.
“You think marriage is a joke to me?” He exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Lynx, I’ve always wanted you, Lawliss. So when I saw you that night at the bar, talking about reckless decisions, I thought... this is it.” He looks at me, eyes burning. “Do you know how long I’ve had those papers, just waiting? That’s how much I wanted you to be mine.”
His words hit like a slap and my heart stumbles over itself.
“You’ve loved me that long?” I whisper, the realization knocking the breath out of me.
He nods, stepping forward again. “Since the first day I laid eyes on you.”
I feel dizzy. Unsteady. All this time?
All those years I spent having a crush and loving him in secret, thinking he never saw me the same way? He did and yet, this is how he chose to claim me?
I shake my head, stepping back again, but he follows.
“Please,” he says, voice softer now. “Please don’t leave me. I’m not above begging.” He cups my face again, tilting it up. “And while we’re at it..." His lips twitch just slightly, like he’s hoping this will lighten the mood. “The penthouse? Its mine.”
I blink. “What?”
He sighs like he’s confessing to something ridiculous. “I bought it because I knew you wanted it.”
My jaw drops. “You—what?”
“And the plumbing?” he continues, voice almost sheepish now. “I, uh… may have asked them to slow down the work so you’d have to stay longer. So I could—” He takes a slow breath, watching me carefully. “Win you over.”
My brain shortcircuits.
I stare at him, lips parted, words failing me.
“You’re insane.”
Eddie shrugs. “Yes,” he agrees, unbothered. “I’m madly in love with you.”
I should be furious.
I am furious.
But the worst part?
I believe him.
And that scares me more than anything.
I stare at him, searching for any sign of a lie, any hesitation, but all I see is raw honesty. Devotion.
Still, I can’t stop the question that slips out next.
“Was our meeting staged?”
Eddie’s brows pull together instantly. “Of course not.”
I exhale, shaking my head. “You understand why I need space, right? I’m questioning everything now.”
His face falls. “Lynx…” His voice is quiet, almost pleading. “I’m so sorry.”
I nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I don’t trust myself to say anything more. If I stay, if I let him talk me down, I might forgive him too easily.
So I turn, walking toward the door.
“Where will you go?” he asks, voice careful.
I pause, gripping the handle, then answer solemnly.
“Anywhere but here.” I say then, without another word, I walk out.
“I’ll wait for you,” I hear him say but I don’t turn back.