The priest, Father Donahue, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. He dabbed sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, glancing nervously from the bride's blood-stained shirt to the groom's smirk.

"We are gathered here today..." he began, his voice shaking.

The whispers in the pews were getting louder. "She's insane." "Look at her." "Is that real blood?" "Gold digger has no shame."

Authur swayed on his feet. He stumbled slightly, bumping into his best man. He let out a loud, exaggerated belch that echoed in the vaulted ceiling.

"Excuse me!" Authur announced, waving a hand. He pulled a silver flask from his jacket pocket. "Just need a little... courage."

Grandfather Alexander, sitting in the front row, turned a shade of purple that looked dangerous. He gripped his cane so hard the wood creaked.

Authur took a swig, letting the amber liquid dribble down his chin. He wiped it with his sleeve. He reeked of whiskey.

"Look at her!" Authur shouted, pointing a wavering finger at Helena. "My beautiful bride! She looks like she just murdered someone! Maybe she did! Who knows with these Lawrences?"

Laughter rippled through the groom's side of the aisle-his frat brothers and drinking buddies.

Helena stood perfectly still. Her father, Mr. Lawrence, had his head in his hands.

Authur leaned into Helena's personal space. The smell of alcohol was overpowering. "You disgust me," he slurred. "Go on. Run away. Everyone is laughing at you."

Helena looked at him. She really looked at him. She studied his eyes.

They were clear. His pupils were normal size, reacting perfectly to the light. He wasn't swaying when he wasn't talking. His core muscles were engaged, keeping him balanced.

She stepped forward, closing the gap. She grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and yanked him down to her level.

Authur froze, surprised by her strength.

"Your pupils aren't dilated," Helena whispered into his ear. "You have no nystagmus. Your coordination is fine."

She pulled back slightly, looking him dead in the eye.

"You're faking it, Authur. That's apple juice in the flask, isn't it?"

Authur's mask slipped. For a fraction of a second, the drunken haze vanished, replaced by a sharp, intelligent glare.

"Get off me!" he shouted, shoving her back. He stumbled again, overacting the part. "She attacked me! Did you see that?"

Grandfather Alexander stood up. "Enough! Proceed with the vows! Now!"

Authur rolled his eyes, straightening his jacket. "Fine. Whatever."

The priest rushed through the ceremony. "Do you, Authur..."

"I do," Authur interrupted. "As long as she doesn't dissect me in my sleep."

More laughter.

"Do you, Helena..."

Helena reached for the microphone on the lectern. She pulled it off the stand. The feedback screeched, silencing the room.

Authur watched her, wary. "What are you doing?"

Helena turned to the crowd. She looked at the hundreds of judgmental faces.

"I apologize for my appearance," Helena said. Her voice was amplified, clear and calm, cutting through the murmurs.

She touched the red stain on her chest.

"On my way here, my car was diverted down a service alley due to a procession. There was a gas explosion in a restaurant kitchen. A young prep cook was trapped under debris. The paramedics were blocked by the traffic."

It was a lie. A complete fabrication. But she delivered it with the conviction of a saint.

"I am a doctor first, and a bride second," she continued, her voice trembling just enough to sound emotional. "I couldn't drive past. I couldn't leave her bleeding. This..." She gestured to the simulated blood. "This is a badge of life, not a mark of shame."

The silence in the church shifted. It changed from judgmental to awed.

"My husband," she turned to Authur, her eyes wet with fake tears, "understands my oath. He encouraged me to come as I am. Because the Alexander family values life above appearance."

She handed the microphone back to the priest.

A woman in the third row started clapping. Then another. Soon, the entire church was applauding. "She's a hero," someone whispered.

Authur stood there, jaw slightly open. He had been outmaneuvered. If he denied it now, he would look like a monster. He had to play along.

"Yes," Authur gritted out, forcing a smile that looked painful. "She's... an angel."

"The rings," the priest urged.

Authur grabbed Helena's hand. He shoved the diamond band onto her finger roughly. It pinched her skin. "You are a liar," he whispered.

"I learned from the best," she whispered back.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Just as Authur leaned in, the massive projection screen behind the altar-meant to display a slideshow of their childhood photos-flickered.

The image changed.

It wasn't a baby photo. It was a video. Grainy, shaky, cell phone footage.

It showed Authur. He was on a table, surrounded by strippers. He was holding a bottle of champagne, pouring it into a girl's mouth.

"To hell with marriage!" Video-Authur screamed. "This is my last night of freedom! I'm going to make that boring little doctor's life a living hell!"

The crowd gasped. The applause died instantly.

Authur spun around. "Turn it off! Cut the feed!"

The video looped. Authur grinding on a woman. Authur mocking Helena's name.

Helena watched the screen. She had acquired the footage weeks ago, a little gift from one of Authur's discarded conquests, and had sent it to a trusted tech friend to be embedded in the wedding slideshow file, timed to replace a photo of his childhood pony. She had sent the video to the projectionist ten minutes ago. It was her insurance policy. If he humiliated her, she would burn him down.

She covered her mouth with her hand, feigning shock. She let a single tear roll down her cheek.

Grandfather Alexander clutched his chest, swaying. Charles caught him.

Reporters were already typing headlines: The Saint and The Sinner.

Authur turned back to Helena. His eyes were murderous. He knew. He knew she did this.

"You..." he started.

Helena looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Authur grabbed the back of her head. He pulled her in. He didn't kiss her gently. He crushed his mouth against hers, hard, punishing. It was a kiss meant to silence her, to hide his rage from the cameras.

His teeth grazed her lip. He tasted of mint and rage.

Flashbulbs exploded. To the world, it was a passionate embrace. To Helena, it was a declaration of war.

The kiss ended only when Helena couldn't breathe. Authur pulled back, his chest heaving. He wiped his mouth as if he had kissed poison.

"You little fox," he whispered.

"Husband," she replied, wiping a smudge of lipstick from her chin.

The reception was a blur. Helena was paraded around as the "Hero Doctor." Authur was shunned, people whispering about the video.

An hour later, Charles appeared at their side. "The study. Now."

The Alexander estate's library was a room designed to intimidate. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, dark wood, and a desk that looked like a fortress.

Grandfather Alexander sat behind the desk. He looked frail but furious.

"You are a disgrace," the old man spat at Authur. He threw a stack of papers onto the desk. "This is a motion to remove you from the board. Effective immediately."

Authur flinched. This was the only thing he cared about. Not the money-the power. The power to protect his sister, Angel, who was hidden away in a Swiss clinic. Without the board seat, he couldn't control her trust fund. He couldn't keep her safe.

"Grandfather, wait," Authur said, his voice losing its arrogance. "The video... it was old."

"It was dated yesterday!" Grandfather shouted. "Stock is down 3% since the ceremony ended. You are a liability."

Authur's hands curled into fists. He looked defeated.

Helena stood by the door. She watched Authur. She saw the desperation in his posture. If he lost power, he was useless to her. She needed a powerful husband, not a disinherited playboy.

She stepped forward. She placed her hand on Grandfather's trembling fist.

"Grandfather, please," she said softly.

Authur looked at her, confused.

"Don't blame Authur," Helena said. "It was... a strategy."

"A strategy?" The old man frowned.

"We released the video," Helena lied. "And the 'accident' story. It's a PR narrative. The 'Bad Boy' and the 'Savior'. It creates conflict. Engagement. Look."

She pulled out her phone. She showed him Twitter. AuthurAndHelena was trending 1 worldwide.

"People are obsessed," Helena said. "They want to see if the Saint can tame the Sinner. If you fire him, the story ends. If you keep him, eyes are on the company like never before."

Grandfather squinted at the screen. He understood numbers. He understood attention.

He sat back, sighing. He picked up the motion papers and tore them in half.

"One chance," he growled at Authur. "You listen to your wife. She has more brains in her little finger than you have in your whole body."

Authur stared at Helena. He looked stunned.

They walked out of the study. The corridor was empty.

Authur slammed Helena against the wall. His forearm pressed against her collarbone, pinning her.

"Why?" he demanded. "You leaked the video. Then you saved me. What game are you playing?"

"I'm playing the long game, Authur," Helena said, looking up at him. "I need you on that board. And you need me to clean up your messes."

Authur stared at her mouth. The hatred was still there, but it was mixed with something else now. Curiosity.