Flash Marriage To The Secret Tycoon

Kathern sat on the edge of the narrow mattress in the cramped guest room. She kept her head down, her fingers meticulously threading a complex pattern of glass beads onto a wire. The air in the room was stale, heavy with the smell of old carpet and the underlying tension that always suffocated this apartment.

The wooden door suddenly flew open. It slammed against the drywall with a massive bang that made Kathern's shoulders flinch.

Glenwood marched into the room. His face was flushed red, the veins in his neck bulging against his collar. He slapped a crumpled piece of paper down onto her small work table. The force of his hand sent a dozen tiny glass beads scattering across the floor.

"Look at this," Glenwood demanded.

Kathern stared at the paper. It was the monthly electric bill.

"You sit in here all day, burning up the lights, eating our food, and contributing absolutely nothing," Glenwood shouted, his voice echoing off the thin walls.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway. Gussie rushed into the room, balancing her two-year-old son, Cody, on her left hip. Her eyes were wide with panic.

"Glenwood, please, keep your voice down," Gussie pleaded. She reached out with her free hand to grab his forearm.

Glenwood let out a harsh sound of disgust. He violently yanked his arm away. The sudden force threw Gussie off balance. She stumbled backward, her ankle twisting awkwardly on the edge of the rug.

Kathern dropped her wire. She shot up from the mattress and grabbed Gussie's elbow, steadying her sister before she could hit the floor. Cody began to whimper.

Kathern turned her head. She locked her eyes onto Glenwood. Her spine snapped completely straight.

"If you want to keep living under my roof," Glenwood sneered, stepping closer, "you pay half the rent and half the groceries starting today. Or you get out."

Gussie's eyes filled with tears. She clutched the fabric of Glenwood's shirt.

"Don't do this," Gussie cried, her voice cracking. "She's my sister. Please don't be so hard on her."

Kathern looked at her older sister. Seeing Gussie shrink herself down, begging a man who treated her like dirt, sent a sharp, physical ache straight through Kathern's chest. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot.

Kathern took a deep breath. The air burned her lungs.

"I'm moving out today," Kathern said loudly.

Glenwood let out a dry, mocking laugh.

"Suit yourself," he said. He turned around and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

The sound made Gussie flinch. She immediately broke down. She wrapped her free arm around Kathern's neck, sobbing into her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Gussie wept. "I'm a useless sister. I'm so sorry."

Kathern raised her hand and gently patted the middle of Gussie's back.

"It's okay," Kathern said softly. "I already have a place to go."

She waited until Gussie's breathing slowed down. Once her sister left the room to put Cody in his crib, Kathern walked over to her bed and picked up her phone. She opened a text message she had received earlier this morning.

It was from Eleanor, an elderly woman Kathern had helped on the street a few weeks ago. The message was straightforward. Eleanor asked if Kathern would be willing to enter a paper marriage with her grandson in exchange for a free, independent apartment.

Kathern stared at the glowing words on the screen. She bit the soft inside of her cheek until she tasted copper. She tapped her thumb against the glass keyboard.

"I agree."

She hit send. Three seconds later, a new message popped up at the top of her screen. It contained an address for City Hall and a time: 2:00 PM.

Kathern turned around. She pulled a faded canvas backpack out from under her bed. She shoved three pairs of jeans, a few shirts, and her essential documents inside. She zipped it shut and threw it over her shoulder.

She walked out into the living room. Glenwood was sitting on the sofa, staring at his phone. Kathern ignored him completely. She walked over to Cody's playpen and pressed a kiss to the toddler's warm cheek.

Kathern pushed the front door open and walked rapidly down the three flights of stairs. She stepped out onto the concrete sidewalk and walked over to a mint green scooter parked by the curb.

She strapped her helmet onto her head. She twisted the throttle. The small engine sputtered to life, and she merged into the busy September traffic of the New York streets.

Twenty minutes later, Kathern pulled into the public parking zone outside the City Hall plaza. She kicked the stand down and turned off the engine.

She pulled off her helmet. She ran her fingers through her wind-tangled hair and pulled out her phone to check the physical description Eleanor had provided.

Kathern lifted her head. Her eyes scanned the crowded sidewalk. She finally locked onto a beat-up, rust-spotted Ford commercial van parked illegally across the street.

A massive man was leaning against the hood of the van. He held a thick blue folder in his right hand.

He wore a dark gray suit that looked stiff and cheap. The fabric pulled tightly across his broad shoulders. He looked down at his wristwatch, his eyebrows pulled together in a deep, impatient scowl.

Kathern stepped off the curb and walked across the crosswalk toward him. As the distance between them closed, the sharp, sculpted lines of his jaw and cheekbones came into clear focus.

The man heard her footsteps. He snapped his head up. His eyes, sharp and predatory like a hawk, locked directly onto her face.

The raw suspicion and heavy guard in his gaze felt like a physical push against Kathern's chest. Her boots faltered for a fraction of a second. She swallowed hard, forced her spine straight, and kept walking right into his line of sight.