From across the waiting area at City Hall, Zeke Forbes let out a sharp breath, having overheard his mother's side of the conversation. His jaw tightened, eyes still glued to the screen of his phone.
"She's already making excuses," he muttered under his breath.
For months, his mother had been relentless, praising Sydney's kindness, her poise, and her strength. He had agreed to the arrangement only to stop the endless pressure to go on blind dates and business mergers disguised as introductions.
Now here he was, suited up for a forced marriage, although it came with a condition: she must not know his real identity.
He wasn't expecting love, but he did expect punctuality.
Thirty minutes later, a cab pulled up outside the city hall.
Sydney stepped out, freshly dressed in a soft blue dress that hugged her figure modestly. Her curls were still damp from the quick shower she had taken, and her cheeks were flushed from rushing.
She spotted Grace waiting near the marble steps and approached with an apologetic smile.
"I'm so sorry for the delay, ma'am," she said, slightly out of breath. "Thank you for waiting."
Grace reached out and touched her hand affectionately. "You look lovely, dear. Don't worry; these things happen."
Beside her sat a tall man in a charcoal suit, face half hidden by his phone. Sydney barely acknowledged him; she had assumed he was just a family friend or maybe a cousin.
Grace smiled knowingly and gestured toward him.
"Zeke", she said gently, "this is Sydney."
Zeke looked up, finally taking his eyes off his screen.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, time seemed to pause.
Sydney's breath caught.
His face… Something about it seemed familiar, like a shadow from a dream.
Zeke blinked slowly, taking in the woman in front of him, those eyes, that mouth; something stirred at the edge of memory.
He rose to his feet, tall and composed, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.
"Nice to meet you," he said, voice calm but distant.
Sydney extended her hand politely, still unaware of the long-buried past between them.
"Likewise."
Grace, standing between them, smiled proudly.
Little did they know this wasn't the first time their paths had crossed. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.
Zeke had agreed to the marriage under one strict condition: his identity must remain hidden.
He believed Sydney was only agreeing to marry a stranger because she thought he was wealthy, like most people who found their way into his world. He had seen it too many times. Smiles laced with greed. Promises tied to gold.
This marriage was simply a way to silence his mother's endless matchmaking attempts.
But Grace Forbes had made a silent promise of her own.
She never told Sydney who her son really was, the heir to a vast enterprise, owner of multiple tech subsidiaries, and one of the most elusive billionaires in the country.
She had been tempted to reveal it, especially when Sydney's gentle kindness and grounded demeanor reminded her of simpler, sweeter times.
But she knew Zeke too well. If he suspected even a hint of gold-digging, he would vanish before the ink dried.
Sydney, meanwhile, walked into the city hall as nothing more than a single mother with a good heart and a growing business.
She owned a cosy store in the middle of Brightcanon, a modest place that sold office accessories, run with meticulous care and quiet pride. The income wasn't much, but it was enough to support herself and her daughter.
Enough to survive. To smile.
She wasn't marrying Zeke for money. For all she knew, he was an average man, just like her. Quiet. Maybe lonely. Maybe he needed someone too.
But for Sydney, this wasn't about romance; it was about family.
Her daughter, Michaela, bright, curious, and heartbreakingly honest, had come home from school too many times with tears in her eyes.
"Why don't I have a daddy?"
"Am I cursed, Mama?"
"The other kids said I'm fatherless because I'm not good enough."
The ache of those words never left Sydney. She wanted to give her daughter stability. A name. A home that didn't feel half-empty every time Michaela blew out birthday candles.
If this arrangement meant giving her daughter a father figure, even if distant at first, she would do it.
Back at the city hall, the ceremony was as brief as it was cold.
"Can we get this done quickly? I have a lot of work on my table," Zeke said, his voice like steel.
Sydney glanced at him; impeccably dressed, sharp-jawed, and distant. His expression didn't flicker once. She smiled anyway.
"Sure," she said softly, her tone warm despite his.
Grace, standing a few feet behind, bit back a sigh and narrowed her eyes at her son.
'This grumpy child. He won't even try. 'First day, and he's already acting like a thundercloud.'
The signing was done in a matter of minutes.
A stiff photograph followed, Zeke barely looked at the camera, while Sydney offered a practiced smile. Not out of joy, but out of gratitude. Hope. Something quiet and vulnerable.
When the papers were handed over, Zeke reached forward to take them without hesitation.
"I will hold onto the certificate," he said, his tone non-negotiable.
He didn't say why, but his thoughts were loud enough in his head: Some women take this sort of thing and flaunt it online like they have won a lottery. I'm not becoming a headline.
There were things he needed to make clear to Sydney. His boundaries. His expectations. But those could wait. He would handle it after the close of business, once he was back from work.
He reached into his blazer and brought out a set of keys.
"This is the key to the apartment. You can move in whenever."
Sydney accepted them carefully, studying the delicate metal loop and the engraved number: Whitefield. She hadn't expected this part, not yet. She hadn't even thought about where they would live.
"Thank you," she said. "But… I think the weekend would be better."
Zeke nodded coolly. "No problem. Take your time."
To him, it didn't matter if she moved in a month from now. What mattered was that his mother would finally get off his back.
Grace, however, had other plans.