THE BILLONAIRE'S REPLACEMENT BRIDE

BlackWood Bride

Elena woke up staring at the ceiling and for a while her mind failed to remember where she was. She took in her surroundings slowly before her mind reminded her that she was in one of Adrian's house. She stood up and that was when she noticed that someone had left a black dress on the chair by the window, her size with no tags. The house was silent. Adrian was nowhere but the car was running outside.

She got in and The driver greeted with a smile "Good morning Mrs. Blackwood"

"Good morning" She replied absentmindly failing to notice the address change

The drive to the courthouse took twenty minutes. She counted them by the pulse in her throat. When she steppes doqn and walked in, Adrian was already inside.

He stood in the corridor outside the clerk's office, dressed in a suit darker than the one he'd worn yesterday. He didn't smile when he saw her. He didn't ask if she'd slept well. "What a huaband" She rolled her eyes in her mind. He simply held out his hand, and when she took it, his fingers were warm and dry.

"Ready?"

She wasn't but She nodded anyway.

Adrian sat beside her but heir shoulders didn't touch. The lady passed them the marriage document and a pen. The pen felt heavy.

Elena wrote her name in the box marked Bride. Adrian signed beside her.

The clerk stamped the document and Said congratulations

Adrian stood. He looked down at the certificate in his hand, then at Elena.

"It's done," he said.

Elena looked at the paper. At the names printed side by side. At Mrs. Elena Blackwood in official ink. She was married.

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The hallway outside was bright then the shouting started.

"Mr. Blackwood! Mr. Blackwood, is it true?"

"Elena! Elena Vale, over here!"

"Did you two elope? Is this a rebound?"

The reporters swarmed from nowhere, a wall of cameras and microphones and bodies that blocked the courthouse steps. Elena froze. The flashes went off like gunfire.

"Mr. Blackwood, is Elena Vale really your wife?"

The question cut through the noise. It sounded like a joke. Elena Vale, the abandoned bride, married to Adrian Blackwood? She could hear the laughter in it. Could see the headlines already forming, the mockery, the story of the girl who went from one man's rejection to another man's bed in less than twenty four hours.

Then Adrian's hand closed around hers.

His grip was hard. He stepped in front of her, not quite shielding her, but aligning his body with hers so that the cameras could not separate them. He looked at the reporter who had asked.

"She's Elena Blackwood," he said.

They made it to the car.

The door closed. The shouting became muffled then silent.

Elena looked down.

Adrian's hand was still wrapped around hers. She could feel the ridge of his knuckles.

She remembered the contract.

One year.