Ivy Lin sat beside her soon-to-be husband, Mr. Harrison Qiu,a man old enough to have taught her in high school, now puffed up in a three-piece suit, radiating smug victory like this marriage was a business merger. Which, in her father’s eyes, it absolutely was.
She smoothed her simple dress, eyes downcast, fingers gripping the edge of the seat. “Just sign and get through this,” she whispered to herself. “Be filial. Be smart. Be invisible.”
The registrar clicked her mouse a few times, then paused. Her brow furrowed.
“I’m sorry, Miss Lin,” she said, her voice calm but laced with unease. “We can’t proceed with this marriage.”
Ivy blinked. “Why not?”
The registrar turned the screen toward them. “Because you’re already married.”
The room stilled.
Her father’s jaw dropped. “What nonsense is this?”
“I’m quite certain,” the registrar said, scrolling. “Marriage ID number 28410. Registered three years ago in this city. Your name, Ivy Lin. Spouse: X—”
“Stop,” Ivy cut in, her voice shaky. “There must be a mistake. I’ve never been married.”
The registrar looked apologetic. “Well, according to the national records, you have. And unless the marriage is annulled or proven void, bigamy is illegal.”
Harrison rose from his seat, his face twisting with disgust. “Is this some kind of scam, Ivy? You want money from two men now?”
“I don’t even know who I’m married to!” Ivy cried, rising to her feet. Her hands trembled. “I’ve never...this isn’t—!”
In her mind, pieces clicked into place. Her mother. The papers she signed before the funeral. Her soft voice: “Just in case something ever happens. Sign this for me, Ivy.”
Could it be?
Her father snarled. “You’ve brought disgrace to this family. Just like your mother.”
That did it. Ivy turned to the registrar, her voice now icy calm. “Give me his name.”
The registrar stared. “You don’t know?”
"You don't know?",Ivy repeated,"if I did,I wouldn't be asking! I said give me his name.”
A beat. Then, a printed slip was handed to her.
Ivy read it.
And her heart stopped.
Ivy’s phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was her wicked stepmother’s name flashing on the screen.
“What now?” Ivy muttered, answering the call with a sigh.
“You better get home, Ivy,” her stepmother’s voice was cold. “I’m about to pour your mother’s ashes away if you don’t.”
Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”
“You heard me. Don’t make me do it, unless you want to lose what's left of her.”
The words hit Ivy like a slap, and without another thought, she grabbed her things and rushed out of the registry office. But the storm that awaited her at home would be nothing compared to the chaos unfolding on her doorstep.
Ivy arrived home, only to be met by a man in a sharp suit, his presence demanding attention. “Is this the Lin family residence?” he asked, his tone smooth but assertive.
Her father was quick to respond, barely containing his curiosity. “Yes, and who are you?”
The man gave a slight bow. “I represent Nathan Blake, sir, a very influential individual who is interested in your daughter.”
Her mother immediately perked up. “Nathan Blake? The billionaire?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the man said, passing a small, unmarked parcel to Ivy’s father. “He has shown interest in one of your daughters. However, the letter does not specify which one.”
Her stepmother’s eyes glittered with greed. “It’s clearly my daughter he wants,” she declared, practically bouncing in place with joy.
Ivy’s father nodded, impressed with the potential match. But before anyone could celebrate, the front door slammed open, and a voice boomed, demanding attention.
“I want my $10,000 bride price back.”
The man who stepped into the room was no stranger to Ivyher husband, thirty years her senior, towering with anger.
“What is this?” Ivy’s father asked, his face shifting with unease.
“I’m here to collect,” her husband sneered. “You owe me.”
Ivy stood frozen, her head spinning, as her husband argued fiercely with her father. Her world was crumbling, and she had no idea how to fix it. But before she could even take a breath, she was grabbed by the arm and hauled toward the door.
“You’re coming with me,” her husband grumbled.
Her father stepped in, waving his hand dismissively. “She’s a virgin. Not married. You can test her if you want.”
Her stepmother, ever the schemer, pushed a glass of something into Ivy’s hand. “Drink this,” she urged, her voice sickeningly sweet.
Ivy hesitated but drank it down, feeling her body suddenly heavy and her mind foggy. The world tilted, and before she knew it, her husband was half-carrying her out to the car.
The drive was a blur, Ivy’s thoughts muddled by the strange, hazy feeling coursing through her veins. Her vision danced between shadows and streetlights, her body heavy, but her spirit clawing to stay awake.
When the car rolled to a stop outside a rundown hotel, panic surged in her chest.
“No,” Ivy murmured, trying to push against the door. “I don’t want this. Let me go!”
Her so-called husband ignored her protest, dragging her roughly by the arm. “Shut up and move. I paid for you. You're mine now.”
Ivy twisted, resisting, but her limbs felt like lead. “Stop! Please don’t touch me!”
Just as he tightened his grip and yanked her forward, a large hand clamped over his wrist.
A voice, deep and lethal, said, “I suggest you let go of her.”
The older man turned, ready to snap but before he could even bark a response, a sharp punch landed across his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground like a sack of bricks.
Ivy gasped, stumbling back. Her heart pounded as she looked up at the tall, broad-shouldered stranger in a perfectly tailored suit. The streetlight cast a soft glow over his chiseled features, cold eyes locked on hers.
She blinked up at him, her voice trembling. “Who… who are you?”
The man stepped closer, gently brushing her hair from her face. His voice was low, calm, and dangerous.
“Nathan Blake,” he said. “Your husband.”
