Chapter 2 - The Ruthless Proposal
"Reverend Collins," Mateo said without looking back, his deep voice slicing through the frantic murmurs of the room. "You were in the middle of conducting a ceremony. Continue."
The elderly officiant stood frozen behind the podium, clutching his bible as if it were a shield against an incoming blast. His spectacles hung crooked on his nose. "M-Mr. Voss... this is highly irregular. The marriage license bears Mr. Calloway's name—"
"A detail already resolved," Mateo answered smoothly. He signaled with a slight tilt of his head toward a sharp-suited man waiting by the entrance.
The man strode forward with purposeful speed, carrying a sleek black leather folio. It was Julian Ramos, the most expensive and feared corporate attorney in Manhattan. Julian snapped open the folio, revealing an expedited special marriage license stamped with the official seal of New York County, dated and cleared less than forty minutes prior.
"Everything is legally binding, Reverend," Julian announced calmly. "Miss Whitmore need only sign alongside Mr. Voss."
My head spun. "You knew?" I whispered, my voice barely audible above the rising hum of the crowd. "You knew Ryan would cheat?"
Mateo turned his intense gray eyes down to me. There was no mockery in his expression, only cold, strategic clarity. "I don't leave forty-two million dollars to chance, Phoebe. I had Ryan’s movements surveilled twenty-four hours a day. When your cousin Jessica checked into the hotel suite adjacent to the bridal wing three days ago under an alias, it wasn't difficult to deduce their timeline."
"You could have told me," I said, anger suddenly flaring through the shock that had kept me numb. "You let me walk down this aisle in front of three hundred people!"
"If I had sent an anonymous tip, you would have believed Ryan's excuses," Mateo countered without flinching. "Betrayal must be seen with one's own eyes to be fully eradicated. You needed to see him for what he was. Now, you have a choice. You can walk out of here as a jilted bride whose fortune will be tied up in litigation for the next decade while Ryan files bogus claims against your grandfather’s estate... or you can take my name, take my power, and ensure neither of them ever touches a penny of your family’s bloodline."
Down on the floor, Ryan was struggling against the heavy hand of Mateo's security chief. "Phoebe! Don't do this!" he shouted, desperation making his voice shrill. "Voss is a monster! He kills people! He’s using you!"
"And you were loving me?" I fired back, my voice ringing with cold disdain.
I turned my back on Ryan completely. Walking over to the small marble table where Reverend Collins stood trembling, I picked up the silver fountain pen. My hand did not shake. Four years of blind loyalty had bought me ridicule; perhaps it was time I stopped playing the victim and learned how to fight.
"What are your terms?" I asked Mateo, staring straight into his pale-gray eyes.
"One year," Mateo stated clearly. "You retain full ownership of Whitmore Holdings. You grant my logistics company exclusive operating rights at the port terminal. We live under the same roof to satisfy the public and the legal covenants of the agreement. At the end of twelve months, if you wish to dissolve the union, you walk away with your fortune intact and a five-hundred-million-dollar settlement from my personal estate."
"And Ryan? And Jessica?"
A terrifyingly dark smile touched the corner of Mateo’s lips. "They will learn what happens when thieves attempt to steal from the Voss family."
I signed my name across the heavy parchment: Phoebe Whitmore.
Mateo took the pen from my fingers, his warm skin brushing against mine, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. He signed his name with firm, elegant strokes: Mateo Voss.
Reverend Collins swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and stammered through the remaining traditional vows. When it came time for the rings, Mateo slipped the heavy platinum band onto my left ring finger. It was cool, flawless, and undeniably permanent.
"By the power vested in me..." the Reverend whispered, his voice trembling, "...I now pronounce you husband and wife."
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The room remained utterly silent. No cheers. No applause. Only the heavy weight of an empire shifting.
Mateo did not force an elaborate kiss. Instead, he stepped close, tilted my chin up with his thumb and forefinger, and brushed his lips softly against my temple. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Voss," he murmured against my ear. "Let us go home."
