CHAPTER 5 #2
“My team protects you as long as the Accord permits.”
There is something beneath the wording.
“As long as your organization considers me worth protecting.”
His gaze shifts toward the window.
“As long as I remain able to control the assignment.”
“Which may not be long.”
“No.”
At least he does not sell uncertainty as comfort.
“Did you know the marriage would be proposed before my father died?”
“No.”
The answer is immediate.
“Did the Accord?”
“I’m finding out.”
“Was the garage attack meant to force me into this?”
“I think it was meant to force you to sign something.”
“Victor’s transfer or your marriage.”
“Possibly either.”
I fold my arms against the cold coming through the glass. “Convenient.”
“For someone.”
“Not for you?”
Kellan takes a moment.
“No.”
It is the hesitation that makes me believe him more than the answer.
“What do you gain?” I ask.
“Access to your security systems. Authority to remove compromised personnel. A recognized reason to remain close enough to stop the next attempt.”
“And personally?”
His eyes settle on my bandaged hand.
“Nothing I’m entitled to.”
June calls my name before I can respond.
The final documents are ready.
The ceremony itself takes eleven minutes.
The lawyer reads the required language. Declan signs as witness for Kellan. June signs for me. Victor remains near the back wall, excluded but unwilling to leave.
When the lawyer asks whether I enter the marriage voluntarily, the question feels almost offensive.
Voluntary compared with what?
An armed van. A stolen badge. A board waiting to declare me unstable. Three groups preparing to divide the company my family built.
I look at Kellan. He stands across from me, hands at his sides, no expectation in his face.
I remember him waiting before touching my injured hand.
I remember him pulling me behind him without asking.
Both are true.
“I do,” I say.
Kellan’s answer follows.
“I do.”
The lawyer presents two narrow gold bands. I chose mine from a tray that morning because its simplicity felt least like a lie. I do not know who selected Kellan’s.
He takes my hand. His thumb rests below the bandage rather than over it. The adjustment is immediate, almost absent-minded.
I notice anyway.
He slides the ring onto my finger.
When it is my turn, his hand remains steady in mine. Old cuts cross his knuckles. A faint bruise darkens the skin near his thumb. I place the ring on him and release him as soon as it settles.
No kiss is requested.
I am grateful.
The lawyer closes the register.
“Congratulations.”
No one answers.
My phone vibrates inside my coat.
June sees my expression. “It’s from me.”
“You’re standing beside me.”
“I sent it before I signed. Timing matters.”
I open the message. She has attached the full revision history of Victor’s temporary transfer document.
The original file was created in his office Sunday evening, exactly as the metadata showed. The first version did not mention concerns about my emotional capacity. That language was added at 11:08 p.m. Monday.
Forty-six minutes after my father was pronounced dead.
A second attachment shows the user credentials responsible for the change.
Victor Halden.
I look toward the back of the room.
He is already watching me.
The marriage certificate lies open on the table between Kellan and me.
Victor’s document is on my phone.
Two attempts to decide my future, created by two different men before I could understand what had happened to my father.
Kellan follows my gaze.
“What is it?”
I turn the screen toward him. He reads the revision log. The room seems to settle around his silence.
Victor takes one step toward us.
“Celeste, the context—”
“No.”
My voice is not loud.
It stops him anyway.
I place the phone beside the marriage certificate.
“My father did not approve your transfer.”
“He intended—”
“You added language declaring me emotionally unfit after he died.”
“I adjusted the document to reflect the circumstances.”
“You manufactured the circumstances you needed.”
Patience leaves his face. He is not afraid; he is furious that someone he considers less qualified has judged him.
“I was trying to preserve the company.”
“So am I.”
I turn to Kellan.
“I want access to every security record connected to Victor’s office.”
Victor’s voice rises. “You cannot use this marriage to conduct a personal attack.”
I touch my ring.
The gold is cool against my thumb.
“This marriage,” I say, “is the reason you no longer get to decide what I can access.”
Kellan looks at Victor.
“Your office is restricted until the review is complete.”
“You work for us.”
“No,” Kellan says. “I work for the person someone tried to take from your garage.”
Victor’s face empties.
I should feel relieved.
Instead, I understand that I have just used one dangerous man to limit another.
The difference between power and protection may depend entirely on what Kellan does next.
I put on my coat.
“We begin tonight.”
Declan speaks from the window. “The agreement begins immediately. You will move to Kellan’s residence.”
I turn.
“That was not in the revised terms.”
“It is the secured property selected for the first phase.”
Kellan looks at Declan. “She has a separate room.”
“That was not my objection,” I say.
“I know.”
He does.
That is inconvenient.
June hands me the paper folder. “I’ll bring your work bag to the house.”
“You are not packing my clothes.”
“I have seen your emergency suitcase. It contains four blazers and no socks.”
“I own socks.”
“Not in that suitcase.”
Kellan glances at Tomas. “We have socks.”
Tomas nods gravely. “Comprehensive supply.”
The absurdity arrives too late to become laughter, but some of the pressure in my chest shifts.
I look once more at Victor. He has already recovered his composure. That frightens me more than anger would.
The document proves he prepared to remove me. It does not prove he killed my father, changed the routes, or hired the men in the garage.
Not yet.
I gather the marriage agreement, my father’s folder, and the green pencil.
Then I leave with the husband I met two days ago, intending to use his access to discover which of the men in my life decided my father’s death was an opportunity.