"Honey?" I repeated, testing the word on my tongue.
Nathaniel Ricardo's dark eyes narrowed slightly. They scanned me from head to toe in one swift, dismissive sweep.
"Do I know you?" His voice was cold and detached.
I straightened my posture. "According to the legal records, I'm your wife."
A flash of irritation crossed his face. He slid his phone into his pocket and stepped closer, towering over me.
"Another gold digger with another pathetic scheme," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Let me guess—you've got some doctored photos or a fake marriage certificate?"
I reached into my purse and pulled out the certificate copy, holding it out to him.
"This is from the city courthouse. I discovered it this morning when I went to register my own marriage."
He didn't take it. Instead, he glanced at it briefly, scoffing.
"That's a rather crude forgery. I've seen better attempts." His eyes met mine again, colder than before. "Here's some free advice: next time, hire someone who can actually replicate an official seal properly."
My blood ran cold. "What? This isn't a forgery. The clerk confirmed it's authentic."
"I don't have time for this," he said, checking his watch again. "You've had your moment. Now leave before I have security escort you out."
He brushed past me as if I were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle. I reached out to grab his arm.
"Wait! You can't just walk away. We need to talk about this!"
Two men in dark suits appeared instantly, moving between us. They must have been watching from a distance.
"Ma'am, please step back," one of them said firmly.
Nathaniel didn't even turn around. He simply continued walking, disappearing back into the main gathering without a second glance.
I stood there, certificate in hand, feeling like an absolute fool. The bodyguards remained, effectively blocking my path.
"You should go," the taller one advised, his tone gentler than his stance.
I clutched the certificate tightly, a mix of emotions surging through me. Confusion, anger, embarrassment—and beneath it all, a growing determination.
As I made my way back into the house, I caught sight of Imogen watching me with a smirk. She must have seen the whole exchange.
"Poor Juliana," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy as she approached. "Did he reject you? How embarrassing."
I ignored her, trying to push past, but she blocked my path.
"What were you thinking?" she continued. "That Nathaniel Ricardo would actually give someone like you the time of day?"
"Move, Imogen."
"You know," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Dad's absolutely furious. He thinks you were harassing Lewis, and now Lewis wants you punished." Her eyes gleamed with malicious delight. "I might have mentioned how you wouldn't leave poor Lewis alone, following him around like a desperate little puppy."
My hands clenched into fists. "You're lying."
"Am I? Why don't you go ask Dad yourself?" She laughed lightly. "Oh wait, he's busy apologizing to the Ricardos for your behavior."
I pushed past her, seething. I needed to get out of here before I did something I'd regret. As I headed toward the front door, my phone buzzed. It was Samuel Rocky, my lead researcher at the lab.
I answered once I was safely outside. "Sam, tell me you have good news."
"I've got information, but I wouldn't call it good," he said, his voice tense. "Lewis Horton is bad news, Keira. Really bad news."
I climbed onto my scooter, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder. "Tell me everything."
"He took over the Horton Group about five years ago—pushed out his own father and older brother. People who cross him tend to disappear from the industry entirely. There are rumors about corporate sabotage, blackmail, even connections to organized crime."
My stomach dropped. "So he's dangerous."
"Extremely. And there's more—he's notoriously private. No social media, no public relationships, rarely attends events. The fact that he showed up at your family's gathering is unusual in itself."
I started the scooter. "What about his marital status?"
"Officially single, but there have been persistent rumors about a secret wife. Nobody's been able to confirm anything."
I filled Sam in on what had just happened, the marriage certificate, and Nathaniel's—or Lewis's, as Sam called him—cold dismissal.
"This is a problem," I said, maneuvering through traffic. "The IPO is in three months. We can't afford any complications, especially not a mysterious marriage to someone with his reputation."
"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.
"Get a divorce, obviously. I need to be legally unattached for the IPO to proceed."
"And if he refuses?"
I gripped the handlebars tighter. "Then I'll find another way. I didn't come this far to let some phantom husband derail everything I've built."
After ending the call, I rode aimlessly for a while, trying to clear my head. The sun was beginning to set when I noticed an elderly woman wandering near a busy intersection, looking confused and vulnerable.
I slowed my scooter, concerned. The woman was well-dressed but clearly disoriented, almost stepping into traffic before I quickly maneuvered my scooter to block her path.
"Ma'am! Please be careful!" I called out, coming to a stop.
She looked at me with cloudy eyes. "I'm not sure where I am."
I got off my scooter and approached her carefully. "Can I help you find your way home?"
"Home?" she repeated, blinking slowly. "I'm not sure where that is anymore."
My heart clenched. I noticed a medical alert tag on her wrist and gently took her hand to read it. "Margaret Ricardo," it said, followed by an emergency contact number and a note about Alzheimer's.
Ricardo. It couldn't be a coincidence.
"Mrs. Ricardo, is it?" I asked softly. "There's a number here I can call to help get you home safely."
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes suddenly focusing with surprising clarity. "Do I know you, dear? Your face seems familiar."
"I don't think we've met," I said, pulling out my phone to dial the emergency contact.
Before I could make the call, her hand shot out with surprising strength, gripping my wrist. "Wait—I remember now!"
I froze, unsure what to expect.
"You're my granddaughter-in-law!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. "Lewis's wife! Oh, he kept you hidden away for so long. I knew he must have married someone special."
My mouth fell open. "Mrs. Ricardo, I think there's been a misunderstanding—"
"No, no," she insisted, patting my cheek affectionately. "I'd know my grandson's wife anywhere. He has your picture in his wallet."
I stared at her in shock. "He... what?"
"Such a private boy, my Lewis," she continued, holding onto my arm now as if afraid I might disappear. "Always keeping secrets, even from his own grandmother. But I know things, you see. I know he married you in secret to protect you."
My mind raced. This had to be Lewis Horton's grandmother—the old matriarch of the Ricardo family. And somehow, impossibly, she recognized me as her grandson's wife.
"Mrs. Ricardo," I tried again, "I think you might be confused. The Alzheimer's—"
"My mind may wander, but I know my own family," she said firmly, suddenly sounding much more lucid. "You're the one he chose. The one he keeps safe by keeping secret."
I looked at the emergency contact number again, knowing I should call it immediately. Yet I hesitated, struck by the bizarre twist of fate.
"You should come home with me," Mrs. Ricardo declared. "Lewis will be so pleased to see us together at last."
My heart raced as I considered the implications. Here was my direct connection to Lewis Horton—a way to confront him again, this time with his grandmother's unexpected support.
It was reckless. Potentially dangerous. And yet...
I looked at Mrs. Ricardo's hopeful face and the emergency contact number on her tag. One call would return her safely home and end this strange encounter.
Instead, I found myself asking, "Where is home, Mrs. Ricardo?"
Her smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. "The Ricardo estate, of course. Where my grandson is waiting for us both."