When I woke up hours later, the side of my thigh burned with a stinging, agonizing pain. The hospital room was dark and completely empty.

I laid there staring at the ceiling. Brandon didn't come to check on me. Not that night, and not for the next three days as I recovered in absolute isolation. I was nothing but spare parts to him.

On the fourth night—the eve of our supposed wedding—the door finally opened.

“I’m leaving,” he announced coldly, checking his luxury watch. “Paula is traumatized by everything you’ve put her through. She decided to go back to London, and I have to go to the airport to stop her.”

I sat up slowly, the pain in my leg a dull throb. “Tomorrow is the day you told me we were filing our marriage papers.”

“I know,” Brandon snapped. “I can't come. I’m sending her home, so you need to go to the civil registry and file the paperwork yourself. Consider marrying me a punishment for making Paula leave again. Make sure you file it. Got it?”

He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving me in the dark once again.

I didn't reply. I just listened to his fading footsteps, a slow, quiet smile spreading across my face.

The next morning, the sun was shining brightly over the city.

I wore a simple, elegant white dress. I limped slightly as I walked up the marble steps of the civil registry, but I had never felt lighter in my entire life.

I pushed open the heavy double doors. Standing at the end of the aisle, looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored black suit, was Vaughn.

He smiled when he saw me, stepping forward to gently take my hand. “Ready to disappear, Victoria?”

“More than ready,” I whispered.

We stood before the magistrate. We signed the papers. And with clear, unwavering voices, we exchanged our I dos.

Miles away, at the international airport terminal, Brandon was standing at the boarding gate, holding Paula’s luggage.

His phone buzzed in his pocket with a priority notification from the city's legal registry—an automated alert he had set up to ensure I filed our marriage certificate.

He pulled out his phone, a smug, satisfied smirk on his face, fully expecting to see his own name asserting his permanent ownership over me again.

Instead, he stared at the official digital document glowing on his screen.

CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE

Husband: Vaughn Hugh.

Wife: Victoria Hugh.