IRIS POV
We'd been driving for twenty minutes when I realized I was married.
Actually married. To Adrian Thorne. A man I'd met less than twenty-four hours ago.
My hand found the simple gold band on my finger—Adrian had produced matching rings from somewhere, probably kept them ready for exactly this situation. The metal felt heavy. Foreign. Real.
"Stop touching it," Adrian said without looking at me. "You'll make people suspicious if you act like you've never worn a ring before."
"I've never worn a wedding ring before," I pointed out.
"Fair point." He finally glanced at me, his grey eyes unreadable. "How are you feeling, Mrs. Thorne?"
Mrs. Thorne. My new name. My new identity.
"Terrified," I admitted. "Confused. And really, really angry that my wedding day involved running from assassins."
"Not the fairy tale you imagined?"
"I stopped believing in fairy tales when my mom died." I stared out the window as unfamiliar neighborhoods passed by. "Where exactly is this estate we're going to?"
"Westchester. About an hour north of the city." Adrian's jaw tightened. "The house where I wasn't allowed to set foot as a child. Where my father raised his legitimate family while pretending I didn't exist."
The bitterness in his voice was sharp enough to cut.
"And Damien still lives there?"
"No. He has a condo in the city. But the estate is still in the family trust. Empty most of the time, maintained by staff." Adrian's fingers drummed on his knee. "It's the perfect hiding spot. Marcus can't get within five hundred feet because of the restraining order. And Damien won't think to look for us there—he doesn't even know I have access to the property."
"How do you have access if you were never allowed there?"
Adrian smiled, cold and satisfied. "When my father died five years ago, I bought controlling interest in the family trust through a shell company. Technically, I own the house. Damien just doesn't know it yet."
Of course he did. Adrian Thorne didn't just plan revenge—he built empires around it.
We pulled through massive iron gates an hour later. The estate was huge, all stone and windows and perfect lawns. It looked like something from a movie. Old money and privilege and everything Adrian had been denied.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Thorne," he said dryly as we parked.
A woman in her sixties appeared at the front door before we'd even gotten out of the car. She had kind eyes and grey hair pulled into a neat bun.
"Mr. Thorne!" She smiled warmly. "When your assistant called this morning, I could hardly believe—" She stopped, seeing me. "Oh my."
"Mrs. Chen, this is my wife, Iris." Adrian helped me out of the car, his hand at my elbow. "Iris, this is Mrs. Chen. She's managed this property for thirty years."
Mrs. Chen's eyes went wide. "Wife? But I thought—"
"It was very sudden," I said quickly. "Yesterday, actually."
"Yesterday!" Mrs. Chen looked between us, clearly trying to process this information. "Well. Congratulations are in order, then. Come in, come in. I'll prepare the master suite."
We followed her inside. The house was beautiful but cold. Like a museum. Everything perfect but nothing lived-in.
Adrian's hand tightened on my elbow as we walked through rooms he'd probably imagined a thousand times as a child. Rooms his father had forbidden him from entering.
"I've prepared breakfast in the dining room," Mrs. Chen said. "And Mr. Thorne, your assistant sent over some items for Mrs. Thorne. They're in the bedroom."
"Thank you." Adrian finally released my arm. "We'll need the house secured. No visitors without my explicit approval. No one can know we're here."
"Of course, sir." Mrs. Chen looked concerned but didn't ask questions. "I'll inform the security team."
After she left, I turned to Adrian. "She shares my last name."
"Coincidence. Chen is a common surname." He headed toward the stairs. "Come on. You should rest. We have the charity gala tonight."
"Tonight?" I followed him up a massive staircase. "Adrian, we just got married and someone's trying to kill us. Can't we skip the party?"
"Absolutely not. The whole point is to make a public appearance. Show Damien what he lost. Let Marcus and Vivienne know they didn't scare us away." He opened a door to reveal a bedroom three times the size of my old apartment. "Besides, you'll be safe. The gala has top-level security. No one gets in without invitation and ID check."
I looked around the room. King-sized bed. Sitting area. Windows overlooking gardens. And on the bed—at least a dozen shopping bags from expensive stores.
"What's all this?" I asked.
"Clothes, jewelry, everything you'll need for tonight and the next few weeks." Adrian picked up an envelope from the dresser. "And this is for you."
Inside was a black credit card with my new name: Iris Thorne.
"There's no limit," Adrian said. "Buy whatever you need. I meant what I said—you'll have access to everything while you're my wife."
"I can't accept—"
"You can and you will. You signed a contract. Part of that contract states I provide for your needs. This is me fulfilling my obligation." His voice softened slightly. "You lost everything yesterday, Iris. Let me give you some of it back."
I stared at the card. Yesterday I'd had $243 to my name. Now I held unlimited money in my hand.
"What's the catch?" I whispered.
"No catch. Just... be ready by seven. We're making a statement tonight. Dress accordingly."
He left before I could respond.
I sank onto the bed, surrounded by luxury I'd never imagined. The shopping bags held designer dresses, shoes that probably cost more than my old car, jewelry that sparkled even in the dim light.
One bag had a note: *For tonight. You'll look perfect. —A*
I pulled out the dress. It was stunning. Deep emerald green that would match my skin tone perfectly. Simple but elegant. The kind of dress that cost thousands.
The kind of dress that would make Damien regret everything.
I smiled. Maybe this revenge thing wouldn't be so bad.
My phone buzzed. Finally charged after the chaos of this morning. Dozens of missed calls and texts loaded all at once.
Most were from Damien and my family. I deleted those without reading.
But one made my blood freeze.
From Sophia, sent an hour ago: *IRIS WHERE ARE YOU?? Just saw the news. They're saying you MARRIED Adrian Thorne?? This has to be fake news right? Please call me. I'm worried.*
The news. It was already public.
I googled my new name with shaking hands.
The headlines hit me like punches:
**BILLIONAIRE ADRIAN THORNE WEDS IN SECRET CEREMONY**
**THORNE'S MYSTERY BRIDE: WHO IS IRIS CHEN?**
**TYCOON'S SURPRISE MARRIAGE SHOCKS WALL STREET**
There were photos. Somehow, someone had gotten photos of us leaving Judge Morrison's house. Me in my borrowed clothes looking terrified. Adrian's hand on my back, his face fierce and protective.
We looked like a real couple. Like he actually cared about me.
I scrolled through articles, my heart racing faster with each one. The media was digging into my life. Finding my connection to Damien. Asking questions about the timing.
One gossip site had the worst headline: **DID DAMIEN HARTWELL'S EX MARRY HIS BUSINESS RIVAL FOR REVENGE?**
Yes, I thought. Yes, I did.
My phone rang. Sophia.
"Where are you?" she demanded the second I answered. "Iris, what is happening? You disappeared yesterday and now you're MARRIED?"
"Sophia, I can explain—"
"Can you? Because it looks like you had a mental breakdown and married a stranger!" Her voice cracked. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Do you need help?"
"I'm fine. Really. It's complicated but I'm safe."
"Safe? Iris, Adrian Thorne is famous for destroying people who cross him. He's not exactly prince charming."
"I know what he is." I looked at the wedding ring on my finger. "And I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? Because forty-eight hours ago you were marrying Damien. Now you're Mrs. Adrian Thorne. That's not normal, Iris."
She was right. Nothing about this was normal.
"I can't explain over the phone," I said quietly. "But I promise I'm okay. Actually, I'm better than okay. For the first time in years, I'm choosing myself."
Sophia was quiet for a moment. "He's paying you, isn't he? This is some kind of arrangement."
"It's a business deal," I admitted. "One year. Then I walk away with enough money to start over."
"And what does he get?"
"Revenge on his enemies. Same as me."
Another pause. Then Sophia sighed. "I don't like this. But I know that tone in your voice. You've made up your mind."
"I have."
"Then be careful. And call me if you need anything. I mean it, Iris. Anything."
"I will. I promise."
After we hung up, I looked at the dress again. At the credit card. At the bedroom fit for royalty.
Twenty-four hours ago I'd been abandoned. Today I was a billionaire's wife.
My phone buzzed again. Another unknown number.
Against my better judgment, I opened the text.
What I saw made me drop the phone.
It was a photo. Recent, taken maybe an hour ago. It showed Adrian and me in the car, driving away from Judge Morrison's house.
But someone had drawn a red X over my face.
The message below: *Enjoy your last day as Mrs. Thorne. By this time tomorrow, you'll be a widow. And Adrian will finally understand what it feels like to lose everything. —M.W.*
Marcus Westbrook was done threatening. This was a promise.
I was going to die tomorrow.
I grabbed the phone and ran toward the door, looking for Adrian, needing to show him—
The door opened before I reached it.
But it wasn't Adrian.
A man I'd never seen before stood in the hallway. Tall, scarred, cold eyes. He had a gun.
"Hello, Mrs. Thorne," he said in an accent I couldn't place. "I've been hired to deliver a message. Mr. Westbrook wants you to know that restraining orders don't stop professionals."
He raised the gun.
I screamed.
And the world exploded into chaos.