Marrying The Broke Billionaire In Disguise

Flora stood on the marble steps of the Manhattan City Hall.

She wore a faded navy-blue skirt suit. It was clean, but the fabric was worn thin at the elbows. She clutched her ID in her hand. Her palms were slick with cold sweat.

Josiah walked up the steps precisely at nine o'clock. He wore the same dull expression, but today, he held a small bouquet of white roses. He held them out to her.

Flora blinked. She took the flowers. The soft, sweet scent of the petals hit her nose, and the tight knot of anxiety in her chest loosened just a fraction.

They walked into the building together. The hallway was packed with couples. People were laughing, holding hands, and kissing against the walls.

Flora and Josiah stood exactly two feet apart. The space between them felt like a physical wall of ice.

When the clerk called their names, they stepped up to the counter. The clerk looked at them with tired eyes and asked if they were entering the marriage willingly.

Flora sucked in a sharp breath. "Yes," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Yes," Josiah said. His response was clipped, efficient, like he was closing a corporate merger.

The clerk told them to exchange rings. Josiah reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain, silver-colored band. Flora glanced at the inside of the ring. There was no engraving, no brand mark. It looked like it came from a vending machine.

Josiah took her left hand. His long, lean fingers wrapped around hers. Despite the cold morning air, his skin felt unnaturally warm, sending a sudden, grounding heat straight up Flora's arm that made her breath hitch. She looked up and crashed straight into his dark, bottomless eyes.

For a split second, the coldness in his gaze melted. Something heavy and intense flared in his pupils. Then, he blinked, and the flat, dead-eyed programmer returned.

The clerk stamped the paperwork with a loud thud.

"You're married," the clerk said, already looking at the next couple in line.

Flora stared at the piece of paper. Her name and Josiah's name were printed side by side. Her stomach did a slow, nauseating flip. It didn't feel real.

They walked out of the building. The morning sun glared off the concrete. They stood on the steps, the silence between them stretching until it became unbearable.

"We should go our separate ways from here," Josiah said.

The words were practical, but they sliced through Flora's chest. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and nodded.

She turned toward the subway station.

A massive, black luxury van suddenly swerved toward the curb, its tires splashing a puddle of dirty water just inches from Flora's worn shoes.

The tinted window rolled down halfway. An older man with a face carved from granite stared out at them. His eyes were sharp, calculating, and terrifyingly familiar.

Cornelius Vance looked at Flora, then shifted his gaze to his son.

"I bet this marriage will take an interesting turn," Cornelius said. His voice was low, carrying a weight that made the air feel heavy.

Flora frowned, stepping back from the vehicle. She looked at Josiah.

"This is my distant uncle," Josiah said quickly. His jaw was tight.

Cornelius chuckled. The sound was rough. He reached out of the window and handed Flora a thick red envelope.

"A wedding gift," Cornelius said.

Flora felt the weight of the envelope. It was thick with old, wrinkled bills. It smelled like stale cigars and old paper.

"I can't take this," Flora said, trying to hand it back.

"Keep it," Cornelius commanded. He didn't wait for her to argue. The window rolled up, and the van merged aggressively into the Manhattan traffic.

Flora stood holding the envelope, a strange warmth blooming in her chest. At least someone in his family cared enough to show up.

Josiah watched the van disappear. A muscle feathered in his jaw. He turned back to Flora, his expression hardening.

"Don't tell anyone about the details of today," Josiah said. "Especially not the man bothering you."

Flora nodded. She clutched the red envelope and the white roses to her chest, turned around, and disappeared into the sea of pedestrians.

Josiah stood perfectly still until he could no longer see her navy-blue suit.

He pulled out his phone.

"Milo," Josiah said, his tone shifting into something far more clinical. "Access the City Hall's public server for marriage licenses. I need our entry digitally corrupted or temporarily firewalled from any external searches."

Milo laughed through the speaker. "You play a convincing poor man, Boss, but your hacking requests are starting to sound a lot like corporate espionage."

Josiah hung up. He looked up at a massive billboard towering over the street. The glowing letters spelled out Knight Group.

The game had officially started. Now, he needed to lose everything.

He raised his hand and hailed a yellow cab. Before he got in, he looked one last time down the street where Flora had vanished, his chest tightening with an emotion he refused to name.