Flash Marriage To My Ruthless Professor

Allison sat on the cold wooden bench inside the New York City Hall marriage bureau.

"It had been exactly forty-eight hours since Martin introduced this man to me at the Oak Club," she thought, her mind racing. "And now, here we are, sitting on this freezing bench, preparing to sign a document that will dictate the rest of my life."

She stared at the silver face of her watch.

The second hand ticked forward. It was a sharp, rhythmic slicing sound that matched the heavy pounding in her temples.

Martin Croft, her family's longtime attorney, sat heavily next to her. The wooden bench groaned under his weight.

He handed her a thick stack of papers.

"This is the final version of the prenuptial agreement, Allison," Martin said. His voice was low, strictly professional.

The document was fifty pages long. The paper was crisp and heavy.

Allison took it. Her fingers traced the sharp edges of the pages.

She flipped directly to the asset isolation clauses. She read every single word.

Her eyes scanned the dense legal jargon, searching for any loopholes that Cheryl or Judd could exploit. There were none. The wall around her inheritance was ironclad.

A sound echoed from the far end of the long, marble hallway.

It was the steady, rhythmic clicking of leather dress shoes against the hard floor.

The footsteps were heavy. Deliberate. They commanded the space.

Allison looked up from the papers.

Elliot Dillard walked into view.

He wore a custom-tailored charcoal gray suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His face was completely expressionless.

The corridor was crowded with happy couples holding cheap bouquets, but Elliot's eyes cut straight through the chaos.

His gaze locked onto Allison with terrifying precision.

He walked over and sat down on the bench directly across from her.

The moment he sat, the air pressure in the small waiting area seemed to drop. He brought with him the cold, suffocating aura of a Wall Street predator.

Martin cleared his throat. The sound was loud in the tense silence.

"I will now review the core terms regarding the trust fund audit," Martin said, opening his briefcase.

He read the stipulations aloud. The words fell like heavy stones between them.

"The marriage must last for a minimum of three years," Martin stated. "During this time, neither party will interfere in the other's private life."

Elliot kept his dark eyes fixed on Allison. He didn't blink.

"Any breach of contract by either party will result in a massive financial penalty," Martin continued, his finger tapping the page. "And the automatic forfeiture of all related trust fund rights."

Elliot reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

He pulled out a sleek, black Montblanc fountain pen. The gold trim caught the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway.

He didn't hesitate for a single second.

He flipped to the last page and signed his name on the groom's line. His signature was sharp, aggressive, and completely illegible.

He pushed the thick document across the small wooden table toward Allison.

He tapped the tip of the pen against the paper twice.

Tap. Tap.

Allison took a deep breath. The air burned her lungs.

She reached out and took the pen from his fingers. The metal barrel was still warm from his body heat.

She stared at the blank line waiting for her name.

An image flashed in her mind. It was her stepmother, Cheryl.

She saw Cheryl's greedy, triumphant smile on the day her father's altered will was read. Her stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot.

Allison gripped the pen. Her knuckles turned stark white.

She pressed the nib to the paper and signed her name.

The legal binding was complete. A ten-million-dollar transaction disguised as a romance.

A loud burst of static came from the overhead speaker.

"Number forty-two," the city clerk's voice echoed through the room.

Allison and Elliot stood up at the exact same time.

They walked to the front counter. The glass partition was smudged with fingerprints.

They handed over their driver's licenses, birth certificates, and the massive stack of financial disclosure forms.

The clerk, a tired-looking woman with thick glasses, mechanically flipped through the paperwork.

"Are you both entering into this union entirely of your own free will?" the clerk asked without looking up.

"Yes," Allison said.

"Yes," Elliot echoed.

Their voices were perfectly synchronized and completely devoid of any human emotion.

The clerk picked up a heavy metal stamp.

She brought it down hard on the final page. The loud thwack signaled that they were officially, legally husband and wife.

"According to New York State procedure, you may now exchange rings and kiss," the clerk said, finally looking up at them with a bored expression.

Allison's spine instantly turned to steel. Her entire body went rigid.

Elliot turned to face her. He leaned down slightly.

He raised his left hand and placed it on her waist. It was a gentlemanly gesture, barely touching her, but she felt the heat of his palm through her dress.

He leaned closer.

His scent invaded her personal space. It was a sharp, intoxicating mix of winter mint and bitter black coffee.

Elliot lowered his head.

His lips brushed against the corner of her mouth.

The contact was freezing cold. It was a highly deceptive touch, perfectly executed to satisfy the clerk's visual requirement, but it held absolutely zero warmth.

The second the requirement was met, they pulled apart.

They immediately stepped back, establishing a wide, safe social distance between them.

Elliot reached up and adjusted his silk tie.

"I have a board meeting to attend," he said. His voice was flat, dismissing her entirely.

He turned and walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing down the marble hall.

Allison stood alone at the counter.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated violently inside her leather tote bag.

She pulled it out. The screen lit up with a high-priority alert from her financial monitoring app.

It was a warning notification. Judd was attempting to transfer liquid assets out of the family trust fund right now.

Allison gripped the phone. Her jaw tightened until her teeth ached. She shoved the phone back into her bag, grabbed the freshly stamped marriage certificate, and headed straight for the exit.