The hum of the car was the only sound for a long while. Isabella sat stiff in the backseat, her fingers twisting the veil that had torn during her escape. At first, relief had washed over her. She had gotten away. She was free. But now, staring out at the streets flashing past, the truth dawned on her.

She had nowhere to go.

No relative she could run to, no friend bold enough to hide her. If her parents caught her, they would drag her back, bind her wrists if they had to, and throw her before the priest.

Her throat tightened. Slowly, she leaned forward. "Gabriel?"

His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. Calm, unreadable.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The question made her blood run cold. She hadn't thought this through. She had jumped into a stranger's car without a plan. Now her hands shook with the weight of that mistake.

"Anywhere you want, ma'am," he said, calmly.

Her voice broke as she begged, "Please... take me to the cheapest hotel. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere they won't think to look for me."

He gave a small nod, not asking further questions. Relief loosened her chest, though it was short-lived.

As the car turned, Isabella studied him again. The way his suit sat perfectly on broad shoulders, the way his hands gripped the wheel with quiet control. He didn't look like any Bolt driver she'd ever seen.

"You know," she said softly, "you look too good to be a driver."

For the first time since she met him, his lips curved. Not a full smile, but close.

"Thank you for the compliment."

She blinked, surprised at his answer. Most men she knew would have laughed or boasted. But before she could say more, he added, almost casually, "My bride abandoned me this morning. Left me standing at the altar."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

The corner of his mouth twitched again. "Hard to believe, I know."

Isabella let out an incredulous laugh. "Impossible. What kind of foolish girl would abandon a hardworking, decent man like you?"

He didn't reply, but his eyes flicked toward her briefly, as if weighing her words.

"I mean it," she went on, indignant. "That girl is blind, ungrateful. She deserves... she deserves someone like that arrogant CEO they wanted to force me on. Sebastián Álvarez. That kind of man should marry selfish, brainless girls like her."

The silence in the car thickened, but Isabella didn't notice. She shook her head with fire in her eyes. "If I had a man like you, kind enough to help a stranger, responsible enough to keep his word, I would never run. Never."

He said nothing, though his grip tightened on the wheel.

Minutes later, he slowed the car and pulled over in front of a run-down hotel, its neon sign flickering weakly in the dusk. Isabella sighed in relief.

"How much?" she asked, fumbling with her backpack.

His eyes met hers in the mirror. "Ten thousand dollars."

Her mouth fell open. "What?!"

His face was unreadable. "That's the fare."

"That's outrageous!" she burst out. "Even if I saved for five years, I wouldn't have that kind of money! I was planning to look for a job, not rob a bank."

He didn't flinch. "That's the price."

She threw her hands up, frustration spilling over. "What kind of driver are you? You think because I'm in a wedding dress I have money hidden somewhere?"

This time he turned to face her fully. And in that moment, Isabella froze.

She saw him clearly for the first time-tall, strikingly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a mouth curved in a way that could almost be called charming. His eyes held hers with a calm intensity that made her heartbeat stutter.

And then he said it.

"Marry me."

Her breath caught. She almost choked on the air. "What?"

"Marry me," he repeated, his voice even, steady.

She blinked, stunned. Then anger flared hot. "Are you sick, Gabriel? Did you hit your head this morning? You can't just-just-"

He didn't interrupt. He only waited, as if her outburst meant nothing.

"You told me your bride left you, and I'm not that bride," she said.

"And you ran away from your husband. So marry me instead," Gabriel replied.

Her laugh was sharp, disbelieving. "Never. Do you hear me? Never!"

The click of the locks echoed around the car. Isabella's stomach dropped as she realized he had closed all the doors. Her pulse skyrocketed.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, panic lacing her voice.

He turned the key, the engine growling to life again. "If you won't marry me, I'll return you to your family."

"No!" she cried, leaning forward, grabbing at his arm. "Please don't take me back there. Please!"

"Then marry me." His tone was calm, almost casual, but his eyes burned with something she couldn't name.

Tears welled in her eyes. "Gabriel, this is insane. We don't even know each other!"

His jaw set. The car rolled forward, turning back toward the main road.

"Stop!" she sobbed. "Stop, I'll do it! I'll marry you-but on one condition."

His eyes flicked to her, curious.

She swallowed hard. "It will be a contract marriage. Nothing real. Just an agreement between us."

The car slowed again, his expression unreadable.

"Contract marriage," he repeated slowly, as if tasting the words.

She nodded, tears streaking down her face. "Yes. That's the only way."

He watched her in silence for a long moment. Then his lips curved into that faint, disarming smile again.

"Deal."

Gabriel started the car and drive for what seems like hours. Finally, the car rolled to a stop on the quiet road, the hum of the engine fading into silence. Isabella glanced up, confusion tightening her chest. They were nowhere near the hotel now.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked, wary.

Gabriel's eyes flicked to her, calm and steady. "We're going to a church."

Her throat tightened. "A church? Why?"

"Because we're getting married today...you accepted to be my wife, right?" His voice was firm, no hesitation.

Her mouth fell open. "So fast? You can't be serious!"

He turned slightly in his seat, his expression unreadable. "I want this done before my family ties me to another woman. Another arrangement I have no intention of honoring. You want freedom, Isabella. So do I. This is how we get it."

Her heart pounded. Everything about this was wrong, reckless, insane-but she was cornered. Slowly, she drew in a breath, gathering what little courage she had.

"Fine. But if we're doing this, then I have rules."

His brow arched, amused. "Rules?"

"Yes." Her chin lifted, though her voice shook. "No sex. We won't stay together. We live our lives separately. Do you understand?"

For the first time, he laughed-low, deep, almost mocking. "I never planned to have sex with you anyway."

The ease of his answer stunned her. He didn't look embarrassed or offended, just amused, as though her declaration had been childish. Isabella's cheeks burned, but she crossed her arms, determined not to show weakness.

Before she could retort, he reached for his phone. She watched as he dialed a number, his tone shifting into something sharp and commanding.

"Prepare the chapel," he said. "I am getting married and I want the papers ready. We'll be there within the hour. And no one is to know. Not a soul."

The voice on the other end seemed to protest, but his response cut like a blade. "Do as I say." And with that, he ended the call abruptly.

Isabella blinked, startled. The authority in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Too sharp. Too arrogant.

"Too arrogant for a poor man," she muttered under her breath before she could stop herself.

His head turned sharply. "What did you say?"

Her heart leapt into her throat. "I-I said you sound... too caring for a stranger. That's all." She forced a weak smile.

He didn't look convinced, but after a moment, he returned his eyes to the road, the car gliding smoothly forward. Isabella exhaled, pressing her hands together to keep them from trembling.

Minutes later, the car pulled into the courtyard of a small, dimly lit church. The building was old, its white paint peeling, its bell tower leaning slightly as though burdened by secrets. Isabella's stomach knotted.

"This is insane," she whispered.

Gabriel didn't reply. He opened the door and stepped out with the quiet assurance of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. She hesitated, but when he held the door open for her, she found her legs moving.

Inside, the church smelled faintly of candle wax and dust. A priest stood waiting near the altar, his eyes flickering nervously between the tall man in the suit and the trembling bride in her torn gown.

"Mr..." the priest started speaking, but Gabriel cut him off."

"No pleasantries, her name is Isabella Torres..go straight with the marriage.

Isabella paused, staring at him.

"How did you..?" she asked but he ignored her, as he held her hand and pulled her towards the altar.

Two weary-looking witnesses, a young woman from the parish choir and an old man sweeping the floor were called to stand in.

Isabella's hands shook as the priest began.

"In the name of God and this holy church, we are gathered here today..."

Her ears rang. She barely heard the words as her mind screamed at her to run. But her feet wouldn't move, and her heart wouldn't obey.

The priest's voice droned on, the words both surreal and terrifying.

"Do you, Gabriel Álvarez, take this woman-"

Her head snapped up.

Álvarez.

The name sliced through her like a knife.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Álvarez. Where had she heard it before? It clawed at the back of her mind, tugging at every whispered rumor, every late-night conversation she had overheard.

"I do," Gabriel said firmly.

The priest turned to her. "Do you, Isabella Torres, take this man-"

Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear herself whisper, "I do."

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may sign here."

Her hand shook so badly the pen almost slipped. She scrawled her name across the page, her signature jagged and messy.

Gabriel took the pen next, his movements calm, deliberate. She leaned closer, eyes darting to the paper.

There it was.

Gabriel Álvarez.

The name rang a louder bell now. Her blood ran cold.

She turned to look at him, her lips parting, but the words caught in her throat.

Álvarez.

Could it be-?

Her knees felt weak, the ground shifting beneath her as the priest murmured a final blessing. Gabriel's hand brushed lightly against hers as he closed the book, his eyes flicking to her face.

"You're trembling," he said softly, almost like a taunt.

"No, I'm," she replied, adjusting her dress.

"Yes, you're," he said coldly.

And Isabella knew. Deep down, though she couldn't yet piece it all together, something was terribly, terrifyingly wrong.