65. SURPRISE
ariella
“A marriage certificate?”
“Surprise,” I chirp.
“I see,” he says, looking up at me. “I’m currently bedridden. Been shot twice, as you’re aware.”
“For me, I know,” I place my palms over my chest, blinking my eyelashes dramatically.
“Can this discussion wait until I am capable of walking?”
I puff out my lower lip in an innocent pout.
He studies my face. “Why not?”
I fold my arms and say with feigned anger. “I’m pregnant.”
Silence. The monitor continues its steady rhythm.
Asher and Adrian look at each other—both confused by the sudden play. Neither says a word.
Asher raises an eyebrow at my completely innocent expression, then at the signed marriage certificate, before looking back at me with a level of suspicion usually reserved for unexploded bombs.
Please tell me you’re not carrying his tiny apocalypse? his face seems to ask, to which I give a reassuring slow blink.
I keep my expression perfectly calm, trying not to give in because obviously it’s a lie.
Alistair keeps looking at me.
The silence keeps stretching, making it so uncomfortable that I’m squirming in my seat. I almost blurt out the truth.
The heart monitor beside the bed continues its patient rhythm. Nothing like my own heartbeat.
Suddenly, he smiles—it takes me by surprise.
Alistair shakes his head in amusement and picks up the marriage certificate, and actually signs it.
My eyes track his hand move over the paper, watching him sign beside mine, but I still can’t believe it.
I was expecting him to be difficult.
“It was a marriage certificate, by the way,” my eyes keep dancing back and forth between him and the paper.
He looks at me with the same expression he uses when a student asks an exceptionally disappointing question.
“I’m capable of reading, Ariella.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
“You seem not to accept the fact that I’m legally your husband now,” he smirks at me.
I choke on nothing but air.
“Jesus fucking Christ, how are you tolerating this bullshit?” Asher says to Adrian. “Save it for later,” he says to me.
I stare at him, completely unconvinced. “You signed that awfully fast. Faster than you signed CynoTech’s contract.”
“There was very little to consider about it.”
“You didn’t even argue.”
“I simply reached the conclusion that marrying you would probably be easier than arguing with you.”
Before I can recover, he adds with perfect calmness. “I signed it because I intended to marry you eventually.”
Asher coughs like a tuberculosis patient. Adrian suddenly develops an overwhelming interest in the window.
I look at Alistair. He looks back at me. Neither of us says anything.
“Well,” Asher clears his throat aloud, picking up the employment contract and the pen from the bedside table.
“I’d also like it formally recorded that CynoTech has hired an internationally wanted genius, and he has accepted a marriage proposal within the same ten minutes.”
“I didn’t propose,” I protest.
Three pairs of eyes turn toward me.
I point at the paper and shrug. “I presented documentation.”
Adrian sighs. “Of course, you did.”
“It was efficient.”
“It was terrifying.”
“I inherited that from you.”
“You absolutely did not.”
Asher looks between the two of us, darting a pen between us. “You both inherited it from your fathers.”
A brief silence follows.
Alistair says quietly. “Statistically, the likelihood of unrelated individuals sharing identical behavioral patterns—”
“Do not,” Adrian interrupts.
“—is actually quite fascinating,” he finishes anyway.
“As Chief Operating Officer, I’m ordering you to stop talking,” Asher says.
“Your authority doesn’t extend to the Chief Research Officer. Different department. Different chain of command.”
“I absolutely can.”
“You’ve employed me for less than five minutes.”
“And I already regret it,” he turns to Adrian, “Adrian, my dearest brother, just say the word to fire him, and I’ll kidnap Flora for you.”
Adrian glares at him. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
“What an unfortunate management style,” Alistair adds.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Sometimes I forget that Asher is one year older than Adrian.
Everyone turns. I immediately wish the floor would open beneath my feet.
Asher smiles first. It’s small but real. “I don’t think I’ve heard that in years.”
I sigh deeply. Neither of my brothers says another word.
They don’t have to.
They both know what we all went through.
I look down, fidgeting with my nails.
Alistair is already watching me. The sarcasm fades from his face almost imperceptibly.
He knows where my thoughts have gone.
“You’re overthinking.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I know you, Ariella.”
“I… I almost got you killed.”
“You didn’t. I brought you there.”
“I went voluntarily, but you jumped in front of me.”
“Yeah, but you could’ve died.”
“Probably,” his answer comes without hesitation. “So could you.”
My throat tightens. I hate him a little for saying it so simply.
As though the two possibilities had always weighed the same.
Asher clears his throat. “I’m going to say something deeply uncomfortable.”
Adrian stares at him. “Must you?”
“Unfortunately.”
He looks directly at Alistair. “If you ever make my sister cry again, even if by taking another bullet, probably in your arm or something, I’ll throw you out of the nearest window.”
Alistair nods once. “You sure you can do that?”
“Don’t forget I’m two inches taller than you,” he puffs out.
Before I can laugh at his silly comeback, Adrian steps forward.
“If you break her heart, I’ll personally find the other researchers of that Triarch fucking Dominion and finance the operation to turn you into those Synthetés or whatever you were creating, and disfigure you in the process.”
“Also reasonable.”
“That’s a good one,” Asher slaps his back. “I hate that creepy smile,” and eyes Alistair. “And no, I still don’t like you,” he says to him.
Asher starts. “And if you disappear without any explanation—”
“I won’t.”
The answer comes too quickly.
Asher studies him for a long moment. “You sound too certain for your good.”
“I believe that every important person eventually leaves. However, I also believe Ariella is exceptionally stubborn to stay.”
I lift my chin with haughtiness.
“I suspect if I attempt to disappear, she’d simply find me, and might as well end my miserable existence,” he says with a tap on his shoulder where I stabbed him with a shear.
“And she’d probably bring legal documents this time too,” a ghost of a smile touches his mouth.
Asher exhales. “I cannot believe this is happening.”
Adrian claps him once on the shoulder.
“Our little sister trapped a genius.”
“I didn’t trap him.”
The two brothers look at the marriage certificate.
Then at me.
Then at Alistair.
Adrian raises an eyebrow at my completely innocent expression, then at the signed marriage certificate, before looking back at me with a level of suspicion usually reserved for unexploded bombs. “We’ll talk about this later.”
I give a soft, reassuring nod once more before flipping my hair back over my shoulders. “Learned from the best.”
“You absolutely learned that from the worst—Asher, I mean,” Adrian sighs. “Now c’mon, you could’ve come to me if you needed a lesson that badly.”
“I require legal representation,” Asher says, pointing accusingly at both of us. “I’m being slandered by my own family.”
“You taught her corporate espionage.”
“I was bonding with my baby sister.”
“You taught her how to forge signatures.”
“That was educational.”
“You helped her steal my car.”
“That was to teach her to drive.”
“No, that was grand theft auto committed by two emotionally underdeveloped idiots who somehow convinced themselves it’s counted as sibling bonding.”
For the first time since I’ve known him, Alistair actually laughs out loud.
All three of us stop talking. I don’t think any of us has ever heard him laugh like this before. Quite unexpectedly.
His laughter dies beneath the weight of our collective staring. “What?”
Asher blinks once. “I’ve spent months telling people your smiling face is unsettling,” a pause. “Congratulations. Somehow your laugh is even creepier.”
Adrian snorts while I lose the battle against my own laughter.
And for one perfect moment, all four of us laugh together.
As the laughter subsides, I lean backward and pout.
“You know,” I whisper, “we still have to plan a wedding.”
His eyes close briefly. “I suspected as much.”
“I want flowers.”
“Acceptable.”
“And music,” I announce with absolute excitement. “I refuse to get married unless Ariana Grande performs live for me. I’m willing to negotiate on world peace before I negotiate on that.”
“Figured that much.”
“I knew she was a lesbian,” Asher mutters beneath his breath.
A dull thud follows immediately with a grunt.
Judging by the way he folds slightly at the waist, I know Adrian has just elbowed him in the ribs.
“You survived several assassination attempts and underground wars so far,” Adrian says with perfect corporate politeness. “Don’t make me add death by younger brother to your résumé.”
I muffle a giggle and say to Alistair. “And you have to recover.”
He exhales slowly. “That sounds less like a request.”
“Yup. It’s a condition of the contract.”
“What contract?”
“The one where you decided to stay.”
Outside the hospital window, the sun is beginning to rise.
My brothers quietly leave the room in the meantime.
Neither of them says goodbye. They simply close the door behind them and trust that I understand.
I do.
Our family has never been good at saying the important things.
We threaten.
We argue.
We hand each other employment contracts and marriage certificates.
And when push comes to shove, we stand in front of bullets.
I look at the man lying in front of me.
At the bandages.
At the exhaustion hidden behind blue eyes.
At our signatures sitting side by side on the paper.
Monsters, I think, are not born. They are made. But perhaps they can choose.
Perhaps they can look at a ruined world and decide that one person is worth remaining human for.
Alistair brings my attention back to him again. “You’re overthinking again.”
I give him a witty smirk.
“What conclusion did you reach?” he returns the smirk.
I smile despite myself. “That you’re never getting rid of me.”
With all the solemnity of a scientist presenting an undeniable truth, he says. “I never planned to.”