THE PROSECUTORS: An Accidental Love Story

The month passed in a blur of carefully orchestrated public appearances and private awkwardness. Ethan and Emily attended legal functions together, had "date nights" at prominent restaurants, and endured Margaret Carter's increasingly enthusiastic involvement in their relationship.

"She's already picked out china patterns," Emily told Ryan one afternoon at the office. "We're not even engaged yet—officially—and she has china patterns."

Ryan laughed. "Welcome to the Carter family. When Ethan's cousin got married, Margaret planned the entire wedding in three days. Three. Days."

"That's terrifying."

"Wait until you meet the rest of the family."

The engagement happened exactly four weeks after the benefit dinner. Ethan had called Emily into his office on a Friday afternoon. "My mother's getting suspicious about why I haven't proposed yet."

"It's been a month."

"In her world, that's an eternity when you're thirty-six and 'not getting any younger.'" He pulled a small box from his desk drawer. "I got a ring."

Emily opened it to find a simple but elegant diamond solitaire. "This is... actually beautiful."

"I know your taste. You're not flashy." Ethan took the ring and got down on one knee, and even though they were alone in his office and this was completely fake, Emily's heart still jumped a little. "Emily Sullivan, will you marry me and help me survive my mother's matchmaking for the next year?"

"Most romantic proposal ever," Emily said dryly, but she held out her hand. The ring fit perfectly. "Yes, I'll marry you and save you from your mother."

They told Margaret that evening over dinner at the Carter family home—a sprawling estate in Madison Park with views of Lake Washington. Emily had been prepared for enthusiasm, but Margaret exceeded all expectations.

"Married! Oh, this is perfect! When? Where? I know the perfect venue—the Rainier Club, or perhaps the Olympic? We'll need at least six months to plan properly—"

"Actually," Ethan interrupted, "we were thinking of something smaller. Simpler."

Margaret looked like he'd suggested getting married in a parking lot. "Smaller? Ethan, this is your wedding. Our family has certain expectations—"

"City Hall," Emily said firmly. "Next week. Just family."

"City Hall? But—"

"Mom." Ethan took Emily's hand. "Emily and I both work demanding jobs. We don't want months of planning and stress. We want to be married, quietly, and get on with our lives."

Margaret looked between them, and Emily saw the moment she made a choice—respect her son's wishes or risk pushing him away. "If that's what you want," she said finally. "But I'm hosting a reception afterward. Non-negotiable."

"Deal," Ethan agreed.

So the following Friday, Emily found herself standing in the King County Courthouse—the same building where she'd won the Hamilton trial—wearing a simple cream-colored dress and holding a bouquet of white roses that Margaret had insisted upon.

Their witnesses were Ryan and Jessica from the office, both of whom had been let in on the truth. "This is the wildest thing I've ever seen," Jessica whispered while they waited. "And I once prosecuted a guy who robbed a bank dressed as a banana."

"Thanks for the perspective," Emily muttered.

The ceremony itself took less than ten minutes. Judge Patricia Morrison, a friend of Ethan's father, officiated. She smiled at them warmly, completely unaware this was all a performance.

"Ethan Carter, do you take Emily Sullivan to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Emily Sullivan, do you take Ethan Carter to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Emily looked at Ethan, at this man she'd known for barely two months, at the fake marriage they were about to officially enter, and pushed down the small voice that whispered this was insane. "I do."

"By the power vested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

That part hadn't been in their contract. They'd agreed on hand-holding and occasional shows of affection, but somehow they'd failed to discuss the actual wedding kiss. Emily saw the same realization dawn in Ethan's eyes.

But they had an audience, including Margaret who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. So Ethan stepped forward, cupped Emily's face gently, and kissed her.

It was supposed to be brief and perfunctory. A box to check. But the moment his lips touched hers, something sparked—surprise and heat and something neither of them had anticipated. The kiss lasted perhaps five seconds too long to be merely performative, and when they pulled apart, Emily saw confusion in Ethan's eyes that probably matched her own.

"Congratulations," Judge Morrison said warmly, completely oblivious to their internal turmoil.

Margaret descended on them immediately, hugging Emily tight. "Welcome to the family, dear. I knew the moment I saw you two at that benefit that you were meant for each other."

If only she knew, Emily thought.

The reception at the Carter house was exactly the elegant affair Emily had expected—white flowers, champagne, tasteful catering, and about fifty of the Carters' closest friends. Emily smiled until her face hurt, accepted congratulations, and tried not to think about the fact that she was now legally married to her boss.

"You okay?" Ethan asked during a rare quiet moment on the terrace.

"Just processing that I'm now Emily Carter."

"You don't have to change your name. We never discussed that."

"Actually, keeping Sullivan might raise questions. People will wonder why I'm not taking your name." Emily sipped her champagne. "It's fine. It's all part of the performance, right?"

"Right." Ethan was quiet for a moment. "About that kiss—"

"We should probably discuss it," Emily agreed. "It was... more than we planned."

"We have good chemistry. That's useful for maintaining the illusion."

"Very useful," Emily said, but she wasn't entirely sure either of them believed that's all it was.

They left the reception around nine, driving to Ethan's house in Queen Anne—a beautiful Craftsman that would now be their shared home. Emily had moved most of her things in over the past week, her belongings now mingling with Ethan's in a way that felt surreal.

"I'll take the master bedroom," Ethan said as they stood in the entryway, suddenly awkward. "You can have the guest room. It's actually bigger, and it has better light."

"Are you sure?"

"Consider it a wedding gift."

Emily smiled despite herself. "The romance never stops."

They established their routines over the next few days. Ethan woke at five for his morning run. Emily needed coffee before she was human. They took turns with breakfast, coordinated their schedules, and somehow made it work.

At the office, reactions ranged from surprised to delighted to suspicious. A few people clearly wondered if Emily had married the boss for career advancement, but Ethan shut that down quickly by assigning her the same demanding caseload as everyone else.

"If anything, I'm harder on you now," he said when Emily complained about being assigned three cases simultaneously. "Can't have anyone accusing me of favoritism."

"Your dedication to appearances is overwhelming," Emily said dryly.

But despite the challenges—the gossip, the scrutiny, the weirdness of going home with her boss every night—Emily found herself settling into the routine. They'd have dinner together, discussing cases and occasionally arguing about legal strategy. They watched terrible reality TV on nights when they were too tired to talk. They developed a comfortable rapport that felt, if not quite real, at least not entirely fake.

"This is working better than I expected," Ethan admitted one evening two weeks into the marriage. They were in the kitchen, Emily cooking pasta while Ethan made the salad.

"Famous last words."

"I'm serious. We're compatible. We respect each other's space. No drama."

"Yet," Emily said. "Give it time."

But privately, she was thinking the same thing. Maybe this wouldn't be the disaster she'd feared. Maybe they could actually pull this off—a year of comfortable pretense, then an amicable split.

What she didn't know yet was that complications were already forming. Because three weeks after their City Hall wedding, Emily would realize she'd missed her period. And one week after that, she'd be staring at a positive pregnancy test, the word "PREGNANT" glowing up at her like an accusation.

Their fake marriage was about to become very, very real.