Objection Your Honor, That’s My Husband

Twelve Months, One Marriage

Briar

Nothing about the situation made sense.

Sitting across from Norman Jacques in a quiet restaurant, I found myself questioning every decision that had brought me there.

A part of me felt foolish.

Maybe I should have ignored the offer completely and continued searching for another way to protect Poppy.But another part of me knew exactly why I was still sitting there.

It was because I was scared of walking into another courtroom and watching people with more money and power convince a judge that they could give Poppy a better life than I could.

The truth was painful.

Love was not always enough. I loved her more than anything, but love did not pay legal fees. It did not defeat expensive lawyers and could not erase the custody documents sitting on my kitchen table. And now I was sitting across from a man who was offering me a solution I never imagined I would consider.

He sat across from me with a serious expression. For someone accused of being careless and arrogant, he seemed strangely focused.

He folded his hands together on the table and looked at me with a serious expression. “Let’s make something clear before we continue.”

His voice remained calm, but there was no warmth behind it. “This is not a romantic conversation.”

I nodded slowly because I had already understood that much. “I assumed that.”

“Good.”

He held my gaze. “Because this needs to remain simple.”The word simple almost made me laugh.

There was nothing simple about agreeing to marry a man I barely knew. There was nothing ordinary about sitting across from a stranger and discussing a marriage that existed only because both of us needed something from each other.

Norman continued speaking without hesitation. “One year. That is the length of the agreement.”

I listened carefully, making sure I understood every word. “You will appear as my wife in public. We will attend events together, participate in interviews when necessary, and maintain the image that this is a real marriage.”

My fingers tightened around the glass of water in front of me. “And what happens privately?”

His expression remained unchanged. “Privately, we respect each other’s boundaries.”

I waited for him to explain further. Then he continued.“There will be no romance. No personal involvement beyond what is required for the agreement. You will not question my private matters unless they directly affect this arrangement.”

My eyebrows slowly pulled together. “No questions asked?”

He leaned back slightly in his chair. “You understand what I mean.”

“No,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think I do.”

A small tension appeared in his jaw. “This marriage is a business agreement.”

His words were direct and emotionless. “You receive the money you need. And I, in return, will receive the public image I need.”

I stared at him. Hearing the arrangement spoken aloud made it feel even more unbelievable. A marriage had been reduced to a contract and a relationship had been reduced to a transaction.

It seemed as though he had already accepted that this arrangement was the only choice he had left. That confused me more than anything else.

“How can you even suggest something like this?” I asked.

His eyes remained fixed on mine. “Because my career is being destroyed.”

The honesty in his answer caught me off guard. He did not try to make excuses or hide behind his reputation. He simply told me the truth.

“People already believe a version of me that is not true,” he continued. “Every day, the damage becomes worse. Sponsors are leaving. The organization is under pressureand my reputation affects everyone connected to me.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. “And the only thing people still respond positively to is stability.”

I remained silent as I listened.

For the first time since meeting him, I realized this was not just about money or appearances. He needed something from this marriage just as much as I did. I swallowed, trying to process everything he had just said.

“So you need a wife.”

“Yes.”

“And you chose me?”

“Yes.”

The answer came too quickly. I frowned as I studied him.“Why?”

The question escaped before I could stop myself. “Why me specifically?”

For the first time since we sat down, his expression changed slightly. He looked at me carefully. There was no disrespect in his gaze. He was not judging me or looking down on me. It felt more like he was trying to understand why I needed an answer to that question.

His voice lowered. “The truth matters less to people than the story they have already accepted.”

I remained quiet.

His words stayed with me because I understood them more than I wanted to admit. People often believed what they wanted to believe. Facts rarely mattered once someone had already created an image in their mind.

“And you?”

I looked back at him.

“What about me?”

“You look like someone who keeps her word.”

The statement caught me off guard. I lowered my eyes toward my hands as my fingers moved nervously against each other. How could someone I had only just met make that kind of judgment about me?

I had spent years trying to prove that I was responsible enough to take care of Poppy. Now a stranger was telling me that he saw those qualities in me without needing proof. It should not have affected me.

But it did.

And I hated that it did.

I pushed my chair back slightly. “This is crazy.” The sound of the chair moving across the floor caught the attention of a nearby table, but I ignored the curious looks.

I shook my head. “No. This is completely insane.”

Norman did not stop me. He simply watched as though he had expected my reaction. “I cannot believe this is a real conversation.”

“I know.”

His calm response irritated me.

“You know?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him. “You know this entire situation sounds ridiculous?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are we still discussing it?”

His answer came without hesitation. “Because you came.”

I froze. “That means a part of you is already considering it.”

I wanted to tell him that he was wrong and that he had misunderstood everything. But the words never came.

Because he was right.

If I had completely rejected the idea, I would never have walked into that restaurant. I was still here because somewhere deep inside, I was desperate enough to consider something I never imagined I would ever do.

My thoughts immediately went to Poppy.

I remembered the fear in her voice when she asked if she would have to live with the Whitfields. I thought about the growing pressure of trying to protect her with limited resources.

My shoulders slowly lowered. After several moments of silence, I sat back down. Norman watched me carefully.“I need you to understand something.”

He nodded once. I took a slow breath before continuing.“I have conditions.”

His full attention remained on me. “In all we do, Poppy comes first. Always.”

My voice became firmer because there was no room for negotiation on this matter. “She is not part of a publicity plan.”

Norman did not interrupt.

“If this arrangement affects her negatively in any way, it ends.” I held his gaze.

The room became quiet. For several seconds, Norman said nothing. He only looked at me. Finally, he nodded.“Agreed.” His answer surprised me.

I had expected an argument. Anything other than his immediate agreement. I blinked in surprise.

I picked up my bag and prepared to leave. But before I could take a step, his hand reached out and his fingers gently wrapped around my wrist.

My entire body immediately became still. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as though he realized the moment he touched me that he had crossed a line. The surprise was what stopped me.

His voice lowered.

“One more thing.”

I looked back at him.

“The wedding is in twelve days.”

My eyes widened.

“Twelve days?”

“Yes.”

A nervous feeling settled in my chest. “That is not enough time.”

“We don’t have much time.”

I stared at him.

He said it so calmly, as though planning a wedding with a stranger in less than two weeks was a normal situation.Then he asked the one question I had not expected. “Can you fall in love with me by then?”

My heart stopped for a moment as I looked at him in disbelief. The question sounded impossible. Before I could respond, he continued. “At least in front of the cameras?”

For several seconds, I could not find an answer. The idea was absurd. I was supposed to stand beside a man I barely knew and convince the entire world that I loved him.

I was supposed to smile and play the role of a woman who had found love. But it would not be real. It would only be a performance. Then I remembered why I was sitting in that restaurant.

I remembered the child who needed me to do whatever I could to keep her safe.

My eyes lowered to his hand that had been resting around my wrist. Then I looked back at him. His expression remained serious. It was obvious, he was waiting for my answer.

Slowly, I pulled my hand away. My pulse was still racing from the unexpected question. “I can pretend,” I said quietly as I held his gaze.

“That’s all you’re getting.”