MARRY YOUR KILLER
Chapter Sixteen: The Contract
---
The morning after the engagement, Jay sat in Keifer's study with a lawyer.
Not her lawyer. Not his lawyer. A neutral lawyer, flown in from Singapore, a woman who had never heard of the Mariano family or the Watson family or the war that had been consuming them for thirty years. She was thin, precise, her glasses perched on her nose, her voice flat as she read the document in front of her.
"The marriage will last for two years," she said. "At the end of which, the parties will file for an uncontested divorce. No claims on each other's assets. No claims on each other's businesses. No claims on each other's families."
Jay listened. Her hands were folded in her lap. Her face was calm. Across the table, Keifer was the same. Still. Silent. Unreadable.
"In the event that the war is resolved before the two-year mark, the parties may file for divorce earlier. In the event that the war continues beyond the two-year mark, the parties may extend the marriage by mutual agreement."
Jay looked at Keifer. His eyes were on the document. His jaw was tight. He hadn't looked at her once.
"There are clauses regarding children," the lawyer continued. "In the event that there are children from this marriage, custody will be—"
"There won't be children."
Jay's voice was flat. Final. The lawyer paused. She looked at Jay over her glasses.
"The clause is standard," she said. "For protection."
"Remove it."
The lawyer looked at Keifer. He nodded. Just once.
"Remove it," he said.
---
The lawyer left at noon.
The document sat on the table between them. Twenty-three pages. Two years. A marriage that was a contract, a partnership, a transaction. Nothing more.
Jay stood at the window. Her back was to Keifer. Her hands were at her sides.
"Two years," she said.
"Two years."
"And then we're done."
He didn't answer. She heard him stand. Heard him walk to the window. He stood beside her, close enough to touch, far enough to be polite.
"If the war ends sooner—" he started.
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
She turned to look at him. His face was close. His eyes were dark. The scar on his neck was white against his skin, the mark Lyra had left, the mark that had faded but would never disappear.
"I know my uncle," she said. "He's been planning this for thirty years. He's not going to stop because we signed a piece of paper."
Keifer nodded slowly. "Then we have two years to stop him."
"Two years to find the truth. Two years to end the war. Two years to—" She stopped.
"To what?"
She looked at him. His face was calm. His eyes were not.
"To survive," she said.
---
The house was quiet.
The chaos of the engagement was over. The guests were gone. The flowers were wilting. The dress was hanging in the guest room, white and empty, waiting for a wedding that was already over.
Jay walked through the rooms, her feet silent on the floor, her hands empty. She passed the living room where Percy had slept on the sofa, where Ci N had recorded everything, where Lyra had held a knife to Alex's throat and he had smiled.
She passed the kitchen where Keifer made coffee every morning, where Care had threatened Cole with a scalpel, where the boys had destroyed the stove and laughed about it.
She passed the garden where the mud was still drying on the grass, where Percy had thrown dirt at Yuri's face, where Aries had laughed for the first time in years.
Two years. And then she would leave.
She stopped at the door to Keifer's study. He was inside, sitting at his desk, the contract in front of him. His head was bowed. His hands were flat on the paper.
She watched him for a long moment. He didn't look up. He didn't know she was there.
She turned away.
---
Ci N was waiting in her room.
He was sitting on the bed, his feet swinging, his phone in his hand. He looked up when she walked in. His face was pale.
"You signed it," he said.
"I signed it."
"Two years."
"Two years."
He looked at her. His eyes were wet. "You're going to leave."
Jay sat beside him. She took his hand. "We're all going to leave. When the war is over. When it's safe."
"That's not what I meant."
She looked at him. His face was young. Too young. He was still the boy who had followed her into every fight, who had never once been afraid, who loved her more than anyone in the world.
"I know," she said.
He leaned against her. His head on her shoulder. His hand in hers.
"You could love him," he said. "If you wanted to."
She didn't answer.
"He loves you," Ci N said. "He's trying not to. But he loves you."
Jay looked at the window. At the garden. At the mud drying on the grass.
"I know," she said.
---
Keifer was in the study when Cole found him.
The contract was still on the desk. The pages were rumpled now, the edges curled, like someone had been holding them for too long.
Cole stood in the doorway. He didn't say anything. He just stood there, watching.
"She signed it," Keifer said.
"I know."
"Two years."
"I know."
Keifer looked up. His face was tired. His eyes were dark.
"It's what we agreed," he said. "It's what we planned. A marriage. An alliance. A way to end the war."
Cole walked into the room. He sat across from Keifer. His face was calm.
"And then you leave," Cole said.
"And then we leave."
Cole was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward.
"You don't have to," he said.
Keifer looked at him. "It's the plan."
"Plans change."
Keifer's jaw tightened. He looked at the contract. At the pages he had read a hundred times. At the words that had been written by lawyers, by families, by people who didn't have to live inside them.
"She doesn't love me," he said.
"How do you know?"
He didn't answer.
Cole stood up. He walked to the door. He stopped.
"You saved her life," he said. "You held her when she was bleeding. You brought her into your house. You gave her your bed, your food, your people. You let her into your life, Keifer. And she let you into hers."
Keifer didn't move.
"You can sign whatever paper you want," Cole said. "It doesn't change what's already there."
He left. The door closed behind him.
Keifer sat alone in his study, the contract in front of him, the words blurring in the dark.
---
The days after the engagement were quiet.
Jay and Keifer moved through the house like ghosts. They ate breakfast together. They sat in the study together. They planned the war together. They didn't talk about the contract. They didn't talk about the two years. They didn't talk about anything that wasn't necessary.
Ci N watched them. He saw the way Jay looked at Keifer when he wasn't watching. He saw the way Keifer's hand moved toward her, always, before he pulled it back. He saw the space between them, growing smaller every day, even as they tried to make it larger.
"They're idiots," he said to Felix.
Felix looked up from his phone. "Who?"
"Jay and Keifer. They're idiots."
Felix looked at them. Jay was at the window. Keifer was at the desk. They weren't talking. They weren't touching. But the space between them was the smallest it had ever been.
"They're not idiots," Felix said. "They're scared."
Ci N looked at his sister. At the scar on her lip. At the bruises that were finally fading.
"I know," he said.
---
Lyra found Alex in the garden.
He was sitting on the steps, his shoes off, his feet in the mud. His suit jacket was gone. His tie was loose. His hair was a mess. He looked at her when she sat down beside him.
"You're in the mud," she said.
"It's dry now."
"It was mud yesterday."
"It's dirt now. There's a difference."
She looked at his feet. His toes were brown. His cuffs were stained. He looked ridiculous. He looked happy.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"I know."
"You're sitting in dirt."
"I'm sitting in my garden."
"It's not your garden."
"It's Keifer's garden. But he doesn't use it. So it's mine now."
She looked at the garden. At the flowers that had been trampled. At the grass that was growing back. At the fence where Jay had thrown mud at Keifer's chest.
"Two years," Lyra said.
Alex looked at her. "What?"
"Jay and Keifer. Two years. And then they're done."
Alex was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over. His hand touched hers in the dirt.
"That's their contract," he said. "Not ours."
She looked at his hand. At the mud on his fingers. At the dirt under his nails.
"We don't have a contract," she said.
"No," he said. "We don't."
She didn't pull her hand away.
---
Jay found Keifer in the garden at sunset.
He was standing by the fence, his hands in his pockets, his face turned toward the sky. The clouds were low, heavy with rain, the light gold and red and something else, something that made everything soft.
She stood beside him. Her shoulder against his. Her hand at her side.
"Two years," she said.
He didn't look at her. "Two years."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she reached out. Her hand found his. Her fingers laced with his. His hand was warm. His fingers were steady.
"If the war ends," she said, "if we find the truth, if we stop my uncle—"
"When," he said. "When we stop your uncle."
She almost smiled. "When we stop my uncle. What happens then?"
He looked at her. His face was close. His eyes were dark.
"What do you want to happen?"
She looked at their hands. At the space between them that wasn't there anymore.
"I don't know," she said.
He squeezed her hand. Just once. Just enough for her to feel it.
"Then we have two years to figure it out," he said.
She looked at him. The enemy. The stranger. The man she was supposed to marry. His face was tired. His eyes were dark. His hand was warm in hers.
Two years.
It was enough time to end a war. It was enough time to find the truth. It was enough time to learn what she wanted.
She didn't pull her hand away.
---
END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN