Chapter 3

"In a bed," I said. "Like most adults."

The inspector's mouth tightened. "Alone?"

"Do you ask every newly married woman that, or am I getting special treatment?"

"You lost your auditor license yesterday. Your marriage was registered less than eight minutes later. The Tribunal has questions."

"Then ask them without staring at my chest."

Two more inspectors stepped into the entry hall behind him. Gray coats. Black oath pins. The kind of people who could freeze a person's identity record with one signature and call it procedure.

Adrian came down the stairs, fastening one cuff.

"You're early," he said.

"We're on time," the lead inspector replied. "Marriage verification is mandatory."

Adrian's eyes shifted from the recording lens to me. He didn't look surprised.

That annoyed me more than the inspection.

"You knew they were coming," I said.

"I knew they would come."

"Same thing when you have a private estate and a family legal team."

"Complain after we keep your appeal alive."

I turned on him. "Don't use my license as a leash."

His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed calm. "Then stop pulling against it."

The inspector lifted a thin glass slate. "Mrs. Rook, your husband has claimed shared residence, shared access, and an active marital bond. We need proof that the contract isn't fraudulent."

"Shared residence? I got here twenty minutes ago."

"You arrived with one suitcase."

"I was dragged out of a public tribunal before I could collect the rest."

"And the bond?"

I laughed once. "Ask him. He's the one who put his mouth on mine in front of half the city."

The lens turned toward Adrian. "Mr. Rook?"

Adrian walked down the last step. His shoes made no sound against the black stone floor. He still wore the same dark suit from court. Same cold expression.

Only his mouth looked different now.

I hated that I noticed.

"The bond is real," he said.

"A kiss isn't proof of anything."

"That kiss was enough to trigger the contract."

The hand under my glove burned.

The lead inspector noticed. "Show us."

"No."

"Mrs. Rook—"

"My license was revoked. My privacy wasn't."

Adrian stopped beside me. His sleeve brushed mine.

"Mara," he said quietly. "Give me your hand."

"Try asking like you have manners."

"Give me your hand, or they shut the appeal file before sunset."

There it was.

The knife under the table.

I pulled off my glove and slapped my palm against his chest instead. His shirt was warm beneath my hand. Solid. Annoyingly steady.

"Happy?" I asked.

His eyes dropped to my fingers, then came back to my face. "Not even close."

The inspectors leaned in.

The mark on my palm glowed between us. A thin black ring surrounded by silver lines. The marriage clause. Adrian's family seal cut through the center like a blade.

The recording lens flashed.

"The mark confirms a legal bond," the inspector said. "Not intimacy."

"You want us to perform for you?"

"We want confirmation that the contract wasn't activated under false conditions."

"It activated when he kissed me."

"Then repeat the act."

For one second, nobody moved.

My hand was still pressed to Adrian's chest. I felt his heartbeat beneath my palm. Slow. Controlled.

Mine was doing something far less dignified.

"No," I said.

The inspector raised his slate. "Then your appeal is suspended."

Adrian caught my wrist.

Not hard. Just enough to stop me from pulling away.

"You don't have to enjoy it," he murmured.

"I didn't enjoy the first one."

His thumb touched the inside of my wrist. Heat ran up my arm, and my body reacted before my pride could stop it.

"You were holding my jacket," he said.

"I was trying to shove you off me."

"You still held on."

"Because you were blocking my air."

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Keep telling yourself that."

I stepped closer until he had to look down at me. "You need this marriage more than I do, Rook. Your inheritance is locked until the contract holds for thirty days. If the Tribunal proves fraud, Glasswake Bank goes to your cousin."

The tiny smile vanished.

Good. I found the bruise.

"And if the Tribunal closes your appeal," he said, "you never get your auditor mark back. No license. No access to sealed witness memories. No chance to find out who read your mother's record before she died."

My wrist went still in his hand.

The inspectors watched us like they'd paid for front-row seats.

Adrian lowered his voice. "Stop pretending I'm the only one trapped here."

"I'm not trapped."

"You're standing in my house with my mark on your hand."

"Your house? I thought this was a marriage."

"It is. Which means you live here now."

I looked toward the open doors. My suitcase sat on the front step. One wheel had broken during the courthouse rush.

"You planned this," I said.

"I planned for you to survive the day."

"You planned to put me under your roof where you can control every door, every record, every breath."

His fingers tightened around my wrist.

"If I wanted to control every breath, you wouldn't be wasting so many words."

The lead inspector cleared his throat. "We are waiting."

I yanked my wrist free. "Fine. Record this. I consent to proving the bond. I don't consent to being paraded around like evidence."

Adrian's eyes stayed on mine. "You want to make it convincing?"