Chapter 2: The Contract and the Crown
The dawn light hitting the 99th floor of Thorne Tower was cold and unforgiving. Evelyn sat on a velvet chair that felt like it cost more than her last three years of rent combined. In front of her sat a leather-bound folder: the marriage contract.
Killian Thorne stood by the window, his back to her. He had changed into a fresh white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked more like a fighter's than a businessman's.
"Read it carefully," Killian said, his voice echoing in the vast, quiet office. "Section four is the most important. You are my wife in name, in public, and in legal standing. But in private, we are strangers. You do not touch me, you do not enter my private wing without permission, and you do not interfere with my personal life."
Evelyn flipped through the pages. Her eyes, sharp and trained, skipped over the fluff and went straight to the numbers and the loopholes. "And in exchange, you pay for my sister's medical expenses in full, provide me with ten million dollars at the end of two years, and grant me full diplomatic immunity within the Thorne household?"
Killian turned, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Diplomatic immunity?"
"Your family," Evelyn clarified, her voice cool. "You said they were vipers. I'm not going into that house to be a punching bag. If I'm to be the 'Invisible Queen,' I need the authority to strike back when they come for me. I want it in writing that no one not your mother, not your uncle, not your cousins can fire me, evict me, or touch my belongings."
Killian stared at her for a long moment. He had expected a desperate girl who would sign anything for a check. Instead, he was looking at a tactician. "Agreed. My lawyer will add a clause regarding 'Total Domestic Authority.'"
He stepped closer, leaning over the desk as she signed her name in elegant, flowing script. Evelyn Vance. "One more thing," Killian said, his voice dropping an octave. "We leave for the Thorne Estate in one hour. My mother is hosting a brunch for the board members. You can't go looking like... that."
He gestured to her baggy jumpsuit and the thick, plastic glasses that hid the sharp contours of her face.
"I'll need a disguise," Evelyn said simply. "If I show up looking like a supermodel, they'll suspect I'm a plant. But if I show up looking like a 'simple girl' you plucked from the streets out of a whim, they'll underestimate me. And that, Mr. Thorne, is my greatest weapon."
Killian's eyes darkened with a mix of annoyance and intrigue. "Fine. But at least wash the bleach off your hands. We have a role to play."
The Arrival at Thorne Manor
The Thorne Estate was a sprawling fortress of white marble and manicured gardens on the outskirts of the city. As the black Rolls-Royce pulled up the long driveway, Evelyn felt a familiar tightening in her chest. This was the world she had been kicked out of. The world of fake smiles and hidden daggers.
"Remember," Killian muttered as the valet opened the door. "Keep your head down. Speak when spoken to. Let them think you're overwhelmed."
"Oh, I'm very good at playing the victim, Killian," she whispered back, the use of his first name making him stiffen. "Just watch."
As they entered the grand foyer, the chatter of the high-society brunch died down instantly. All eyes turned toward the "Ice King" and the woman on his arm. Evelyn had swapped her jumpsuit for a simple, high-collared grey dress that was intentionally two sizes too big, and she kept her smudged glasses firmly on her nose. She looked like a mouse caught in a den of lions.
"Killian!" A sharp, high-pitched voice rang out.
A woman in a vibrant red Chanel suit marched toward them. This was Beatrice Thorne, Killian's mother a woman who valued bloodlines more than life itself. She stopped in front of them, her eyes raking over Evelyn with visible disgust.
"What is the meaning of this?" Beatrice demanded, ignoring Evelyn entirely. "The board is here. The press is outside. And you bring... this person into my home?"
"Mother, this is Evelyn," Killian said, his voice like a sheet of ice. "My fiancée. We were married at the courthouse this morning."
The sound of a shattered champagne glass echoed through the foyer.
A younger woman, dressed in a shimmering gold silk dress, stepped forward. This was Clara, the daughter of a rival tech giant and the woman Beatrice had intended for Killian.
"A joke," Clara laughed, though her eyes were narrowed with fury. "Killian, surely this is a prank? She looks like she belongs in the laundry room, not the boardroom. Tell me, dear," Clara said, stepping into Evelyn's personal space. "What exactly do you do? Besides cleaning up after people?"
Evelyn felt Killian's arm tighten around her, a silent warning to stay quiet. But Evelyn knew that in this world, if you didn't bite back on the first day, you were eaten alive.
She looked up at Clara, her expression perfectly blank, her eyes wide and "innocent" behind her thick lenses.
"I specialize in trash disposal, Miss Clara," Evelyn said softly, her voice sweet as honey. "I've spent the last two years learning exactly how to identify what needs to be thrown away... and what is just gold-plated garbage."
The room went silent. Clara's face turned a mottled purple.
"Are you calling me garbage?" Clara hissed.
"Oh, heavens no," Evelyn blinked, looking around at the expensive decor. "I was talking about the company's recent Q3 audit. The data was quite messy. But I suppose if the shoe fits..."
Killian let out a sound that was dangerously close to a smothered laugh. He looked down at his "poor, simple" wife, and for the first time, he realized he hadn't just hired a partner. He had invited a wildfire into his home.
"Enough," Beatrice snapped, her gaze burning into Evelyn. "Killian, we are going to the dining room. Your uncle is waiting. And you," she looked at Evelyn, "try not to break the china. It's older than your entire family tree."
As they walked toward the dining room, Killian leaned in. "That was reckless," he whispered.
"That was a warning," Evelyn replied. "Chapter one of being your wife: I don't lose."