“Julian prepared for this,” Clara said eventually.
“For being unconscious?”
“For not being able to protect his interests.”
She stepped closer to the bed and brushed invisible lint from his blanket with a tenderness that felt strangely practiced.
“He signed a medical trust. If he becomes incapacitated, his assets are placed in provisional management until a legal spouse or blood heir steps in.”
“And now that spouse is me.”
Her gaze flicked to me. “For now.”
That phrase again.
“You think I won’t last,” I said.
“I think most people mistake contracts for control.”
I almost smiled.
---
On the drive back, rain streaked down the windows like something trying to escape.
“You didn’t touch him,” Ethan said.
“That disappoints you?”
“No,” he replied quickly. “I just expected—”
“Emotion?”
“Yes.”
I turned my face toward the glass. “That would be dishonest.”
“You’re marrying him.”
“I’m stabilizing a failing empire,” I corrected. “Marriage is the packaging.”
He hesitated. “You’re not afraid?”
“I don’t trust fear. It clouds negotiation.”
His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.
“There’s something else you should know,” he said.
I waited.