Chapter 2

The wedding was held at the Ashford estate, a sprawling monument to generational wealth and generational cruelty.

Fifty guests. All Ashfords or Ashford-adjacent. Not a single person from my side.

In my first life, that had made me feel small.

Now, it made me feel free. No one here was mine to protect. No one here could be used against me.

Ryan stood at the altar looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

He was handsome, I'd give him that. Dark hair, sharp jaw, blue eyes cold enough to freeze champagne.

He didn't look at me as I walked down the aisle.

He was looking at his phone.

Serena Blake sat in the third row, wearing white. A cream-colored silk dress that was close enough to bridal to be a deliberate insult.

She caught my eye and smiled. Sweet, slow, venomous.

In my first life, that smile had broken me.

Now, I catalogued it. Filed it away. Ammunition for later.

The officiant spoke. Ryan recited his vows in a flat monotone.

When it was my turn, I paused.

The room shifted. Ryan finally looked at me, irritation flickering across his face.

"Elena," he muttered under his breath. "Just say the words."

I held his gaze. Counted to three.

Then I said my vows, clearly, calmly, with a smile that made something uncertain flash in his eyes.

"I do."

He frowned slightly, as if my composure was an inconvenience he hadn't planned for.

Good.

After the ceremony, his grandfather, Arthur Ashford, the family patriarch, summoned me to his study.

Arthur was ninety-one, confined to a wheelchair, but his mind was a steel trap.

In my first life, he'd been the only Ashford who was remotely kind to me. He died four months into the marriage. After that, there was nothing protecting me from the wolves.

"Sit, girl," Arthur said, his voice thin but commanding.

I sat.

"You know this is a contract marriage," he said bluntly.

"Yes, sir."

"Twelve months. You behave. You maintain appearances. You sign the NDA. In return, you receive two hundred thousand dollars upon completion."

Two hundred thousand. That was the deal in my first life. I'd thought it was generous.

Now I knew the Ashford estate was worth six billion dollars, and Ryan's inheritance alone was nine hundred million.

Two hundred thousand was an insult.

But the mysterious text echoed in my mind: *Don't sign anything without reading the fine print.*

"May I see the full contract?" I asked.

Arthur's eyebrows rose. In my first life, I'd simply signed where they pointed.

"Of course," he said, surprise flickering across his ancient face. Was that... respect?

He handed me the documents.

I read every page. Every clause. Every footnote.

And there, buried in Appendix C, Subsection 7, in legalese so dense it was clearly designed to be overlooked, I found it.

My heart stopped.

*"In the event that the contracted spouse remains legally married to the Ashford heir beyond the twelve-month period and the marriage has not been formally dissolved by mutual written consent filed with the Ashford Family Trust, the contracted spouse shall be entitled to an equal share of the Ashford heir's portion of the family trust."*

Equal share.

Half of nine hundred million dollars.

Someone had written me a golden parachute, buried it in the fine print, and no one — not Ryan, not his lawyers, not his vicious mother — had caught it.

Arthur was watching me, his expression unreadable.

"Everything satisfactory?" he asked.

I looked up at him, keeping my face perfectly neutral.

"Yes, sir," I said. "Everything is satisfactory."

I signed.

Twelve months. If Ryan failed to file the dissolution paperwork on time — and I remembered, with crystal clarity, that in my first life, he'd been three days late because he was in Serena's ski chalet — I would be entitled to half his fortune.

All I had to do was survive twelve months with the Ashfords.

And make sure Ryan was exactly as careless as he'd been before.