Chapter 47 - Sudden Change

Lisbeth stepped out of the room and bumped into her Father. Ferdinand glowered at her, arms crossed and brows furrowed deeply. 

"You're messing things up," he said. 

"How polite of you to eavesdrop," Lisbeth responded snarkily.

"Don't change the subject," he warned. 

Lisbeth sighed, her posture softening. 

"I'm... It's just... It's been so long... I -"

Ferdinand sighed too and held open his arms and Lisbeth embraced him. She was just so damn composed and perfect that sometimes he forgot she was only twenty four. 

"It's alright," he murmured. "Stay strong. We can't afford to mess up now."

"I know," Lisbeth sniffed into his shoulder. 

.....

Ayra’s fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as the car rolled to a stop in front of the courthouse. A quiet hush settled over her thoughts, the reality of what was happening pressing down on her.

This was it.

She had expected a grand venue, a luxurious hall, maybe even a private estate turned into an impromptu wedding location—because that was what she was used to. That was what her family had conditioned her to believe a wedding should be.

Instead, it was this. A courthouse. Plain, unassuming, and all too real.

The driver stepped out to open the door for her, and Ayra inhaled deeply before she followed. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she straightened her posture, hands smoothing over the skirt of her dress. It wasn’t a grand wedding gown. Just a simple white dress, elegant yet understated, befitting the rushed and formal nature of the ceremony she was to attend.

Ayra... wasn’t quite sure what she felt.

Not happiness.

Not devastation either.

More like… a dull sense of inevitability?

And even that was questionable to be honest.

The crisp morning air nipped at her skin as she stepped onto the sidewalk, her gaze flickering around the sparse group of people standing nearby. There were no guests, no decorations, no fanfare. Only a handful of necessary individuals were in attendance.

Lucian’s lawyer, a court official, and a clerk handling the paperwork. A few of Lucian’s men stood a distance away, acting as security, though it was likely unnecessary.

And then there was... Lucian.

He stood at the bottom of the courthouse steps, hands tucked into the pockets of his black suit, his expression unreadable as usual. He looked sharp, imposing, every inch the man she had agreed—no, forced—herself to marry.

But something was wrong.

His posture was tense, his jaw set in a firm line. His usual composed and almost amused expression had hardened into something... colder. More distant.

She tried to meet his gaze, but he barely looked at her before turning away.

Ayra frowned.

What was going on?

She started toward him, forcing a small breath past her lips. She had expected awkwardness—expected tension—but this was something else entirely. This was… resentment.

She stopped a few feet away from him, tilting her head. “Lucian.”

He didn’t respond.

Ayra glanced around briefly. The court official was adjusting some documents, and Nico stood near Lucian, exchanging a quiet word with one of the security men. The air was still, thick with something unspoken.

Ayra cleared her throat and tried again. “Lucian.”

This time he turned his head toward her and she felt her stomach twist. His gaze swept over her—brief, impersonal, like he was assessing a stranger.

Her stomach twisted.

Lucian had been distant before, but this was different. The air around him felt charged, simmering with an edge of something sharp. Anger? Frustration?

What was it?

She forced a small, cautious smile. “Hello.”

“Let’s get this over with,” he interrupted, his voice clipped.

Ayra blinked.

For a second, she thought she had misheard him.

“Um… Excuse me?” she asked while trying to keep her tone light.

Lucian’s gaze flickered to her, colder than she had ever seen it. “You heard me.”

Her breath hitched.

She tried to school her expression, but the sharpness in his words cut deep. She had expected some level of mere formality between them, yes. 

But this?

This was... Too much.

She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but Nico interrupted them, clearing his throat. Ayra's gaze snapped to him.

“The paperwork is ready,” he said, breaking the silence. “We can proceed.”

Lucian gave a curt nod, stepping past Ayra without another glance.

She stiffened, watching as he walked up the steps without waiting for her.

Something in her chest tightened painfully.

She wasn’t naive. She knew this wasn’t a love match. She knew what this marriage was—a business transaction, a necessity. But hadn’t they been getting along before? Hadn’t they at least established a tentative understanding?

What has changed?

As she stood there, unmoving, she caught sight of movement in the distance. Several cars were pulling away from the entrance of her father’s estate, a convoy of vehicles carrying the last of her belongings to Lucian’s house.

The sheer finality of it settled over her and she did not quite like it.

There was no turning back now, was there?.

With a quiet inhale, she lifted her chin and followed Lucian inside.

---

The ceremony was quick and impersonal.

Signatures were exchanged, papers were stamped, and in a matter of minutes, she was no longer Ayra Ferdinand.

She was Ayra Roth.

The words felt foreign.

Lucian barely acknowledged her throughout the process. He was efficient, sharp, going through the motions as if he were closing a deal rather than sealing a marriage.

Ayra stole glances at him, trying to understand what had shifted.

Was it regret?

Had he changed his mind about all of this?

Or was there something she didn’t know?

When it was finally over, the court official gave them a polite congratulations, but Ayra barely registered it.

Lucian had already turned away.

She caught up to him as they stepped outside, the bright afternoon light hitting them in stark contrast to the cold atmosphere between them.

She reached for his sleeve, hesitating before saying, “Lucian, what is going on?”

He stopped but didn’t turn fully toward her.

“You’re angry,” she pressed. “Why? What, can't I ask even that?”

Lucian exhaled slowly, as if trying to rein himself in. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Her fingers curled against the fabric of his sleeve. “I do want answers.”

Lucian finally turned to face her. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried something heavy when he spoke.

“Then here is the answer you want,” he said quietly, deliberately. “You played your part well, Ayra. I applaud you; good job.”

Ayra’s breath caught. “What?”

Lucian stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You should be celebrating. You both got exactly what you wanted.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lucian’s lips pressed into a thin line before he burst into angry laughter. “Of course you don’t.”

She took a step back, reeling at the quiet accusation in his words. “Lucian—”

“Get in the car,” he said flatly.

Ayra stared at him, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Just yesterday, they had come to an understanding. He had been cool but composed. He had been logical, pragmatic—like always.

Now, he was something else entirely.

She swallowed, glancing at Nico, who was watching the exchange with careful neutrality.

She didn’t know what had happened.

Didn’t have an inkling what had changed, really.

But she knew one thing.

This marriage, which was already built on fragile ground, had just gotten even more precarious.

Without another word, she gave a sigh and climbed into the car.

Lucian followed, settling into the seat beside her.

The doors shut.

And they drove off into a new, uncertain future.

At least for Ayra it was uncertain. For Lucian, it was only more of the same. Betrayal and distrust.

As it had always been.