The next morning, the air in the Federal Marriage Registry was cold and sterile, smelling of floor polish and bureaucracy. Eileen sat on a hard metal bench, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. She wore her best-and only-blouse, a faded navy piece she'd bought from a thrift store, and a pair of black slacks that were just a little too short at the ankles.
The high-ceilinged hall was empty, amplifying the sound of the large clock ticking on the wall. Each tick was a countdown to the end of her life as she knew it.
A clerk behind a thick pane of glass had informed her, without looking up, that Mr. Butler had not yet arrived. She was to wait.
So she waited. The minutes stretched into an eternity. A part of her prayed this was all a sick joke, that no one would show up, that she could just go home and pretend yesterday never happened.
The heavy glass doors swung open, and a wave of expensive perfume washed over the sterile air.
A woman strode in, her heels clicking decisively on the marble floor. She was dressed in a Chanel suit the color of cream, and every line of her body screamed wealth and power. Two imposing bodyguards followed a respectful distance behind her.
She slid her dark sunglasses off, revealing a face so perfect it looked like it had been sculpted. Her eyes, a sharp, intelligent blue, scanned the room before landing on Eileen. A flicker of disdain crossed her features.
Eileen recognized her instantly. Elianna Nelson. A name that was a permanent fixture in gossip columns and on society pages. The Nelsons were old money, and Elianna was publicly, though not officially, known as Harrison Butler's intended fiancée.
Elianna walked directly to Eileen, stopping so close that Eileen had to tilt her head back to look up at her.
"You're Eileen Goff?" she asked, her voice smooth but dripping with condescension.
Eileen didn't answer. She just met her gaze, her heart a steady, heavy drum in her chest.
Elianna let out a short, humorless laugh. "I don't know what kind of dirty trick you pulled to get your name into the system, but you need to understand your place."
She reached into her Hermès bag-a Birkin, Eileen noted with a detached sense of absurdity-and pulled out a checkbook. She scribbled a few numbers, tore the page out with a crisp rip, and tossed it onto the bench beside Eileen.
"That's five hundred thousand dollars," Elianna said, her lip curled in a sneer. "Take the money, get out of here, and never show your face again."
Eileen glanced at the check. The number of zeros seemed to blur. Half a million dollars. Enough to disappear. Enough to get her grandmother the best care, to finally be free.
But then she looked up at Elianna's smug, arrogant face. And something inside her, something that had been beaten down and dormant for years, hardened into steel. The memory of her panicked, sleepless night flashed through her mind-hours spent frantically searching online for every rule, every loophole, every horror story associated with the Mandate. That terror had armed her.
She smiled, a small, slow curve of her lips.
"Miss Nelson," she said, her voice surprisingly calm. "Are you sure you want to be doing this? I'm pretty sure trying to bribe someone out of a federal match is a serious crime."
Elianna's perfect face faltered, her smile tightening.
Eileen leaned forward slightly. "And I have to ask, in what capacity are you making me this offer? As Mr. Butler's... friend?"
She let the word 'friend' hang in the air, laced with just enough poison.
"I am his legally matched partner," Eileen continued, her voice gaining strength. "You are nothing."
Rage contorted Elianna's beautiful features. "You cheap, worthless tramp. How dare you speak to me like that?"
She raised her hand, the movement swift and angry, poised to strike.
Eileen didn't flinch. She held her ground, her eyes as cold as stone. "Go ahead. Every camera in this building is recording. Assaulting a federal match recipient carries an enhanced sentence."
Elianna's hand froze mid-air. Her chest heaved, her whole body trembling with a fury she was clearly not used to containing. She was a woman who got what she wanted, and she didn't know how to handle someone who wouldn't bend.
She slowly lowered her hand, her nails digging into her own palm.
"You just wait," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "My aunt, Delphine Mays, will not let this stand."
Harrison's stepmother. The name clicked in Eileen's mind. So the resistance was coming from inside the Butler family. This wasn't just a random socialite protecting her territory. This was a coordinated attack.
The knowledge didn't scare her. It clarified things. She was a pawn in a much larger game.
Just then, a side door opened, and a flustered-looking man in a rumpled suit hurried out. He saw the tense standoff and his face paled.
He gave Elianna a nervous, almost subservient nod, then turned to Eileen, his expression a mask of professional concern.
"Miss Goff?" he said, his voice overly pleasant. "I'm Mr. Davison, the supervisor here. Could you please come with me to my office? There seems to have been... a small problem."
Behind him, Elianna's lips curved into a triumphant, cruel smile. It was a smile that said, You're finished.
