The Oracle's Revenge: My Purchased Marriage

The Maybach was waiting at the curb. Passersby stopped to stare at the gleaming black metal.

Heda climbed in. Before the door even clicked shut, Gustavus threw a paper bag into her lap.

Grease stains were already seeping through the bottom. The smell of old fryer oil and cheap meat filled the luxury cabin.

"Hungry?" Gustavus asked, not looking up from his tablet. "I remember your kind loves this garbage."

Heda's stomach churned. She had eaten at Le Bernardin last week with a client under her alias. This smell was revolting.

But she had a role to play.

Her eyes lit up. She ripped the bag open. "Double Cheese! Oh my god, thank you, honey!"

She unwrapped the burger. The cheese was congealed. She took a massive bite, forcing herself to chew. Grease smeared on her lip.

"Mmm," she moaned. "So good."

Gustavus watched her from the corner of his eye. His lip curled in disgust, but his shoulders relaxed.

She was gross. She was simple. She was safe.

Bzzt.

The burner phone in her tote bag vibrated against her leg.

Gustavus's head snapped up. "What was that?"

Heda swallowed a lump of barely chewed bun. "Alarm," she mumbled. "Reminding me of my shift."

"Shift?" Gustavus frowned.

"At the diner," she lied.

"I gave you a card. Is it not enough?"

"It is!" Heda said quickly. "But... you see every transaction. I wanted to send some money to the orphanage fund. I didn't want you to think I was wasting your money."

Gustavus stared at her. The mention of charity seemed to pacify him. It fit the narrative. The poor girl trying to be good.

"Fine," he said. "Just don't let anyone know Mrs. English is scrubbing tables."

Heda wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She checked the phone under the table.

Text from Caspian: See you tonight, Wildcat.

She felt sick.

"How was class?" Gustavus asked suddenly. "Meet anyone... interesting?"

Heda froze. He was testing her.

"There was a new professor," she said, keeping her voice light. "He was mean. Picked on me."

"Oh? What was his name?"

"Professor... French? Or English? Something like that." She blinked, looking at him with wide, vacant eyes.

Gustavus searched her face. He saw nothing but grease and stupidity.

"If it's English," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "stay away from him. He's a snake."

"Okay, Gustavus."

He handed her a silk handkerchief. "Wipe your face. I don't want my car smelling like poverty."

Heda took the silk. She wiped the grease away. Tonight, she would short his stock again. The profit would buy a thousand of these cars.