Chapter 2 Marriage Unlocked

"Ethan Blackwood," I answered calmly, watching Richard's face contort with rage.

The name lingered between us, heavy and unfamiliar. I had no idea who this Ethan Blackwood was beyond being the gorgeous stranger I'd married in a drunken haze.

Richard's face darkened even further. "Who the hell is that? Some random nobody you picked up at a bar?"

Elizabeth snickered, her arms crossed over her chest. "Really, Amanda? This is your solution? Finding some pretty boy to play husband?"

Madison's eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. "I bet she paid him. No way a guy who looks decent would marry her for free."

I kept my expression neutral, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me upset. "He's my husband. The marriage certificate is real."

Richard laughed harshly. "A piece of paper you got where? Some shady chapel? Do you really think this will change anything? Harold Wilson is coming tomorrow, and you will marry him!"

"I'm already legally married," I repeated firmly. "You can't force me to commit bigamy."

Elizabeth's calculating eyes darted between Richard and me. "Richard, maybe we should—"

The doorbell rang, cutting her off. We all froze, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on.

Our housekeeper appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Davis, there's a gentleman here to see Miss Amanda. He says he's her husband."

My heart pounded as Ethan appeared behind the housekeeper. He looked even more striking than I remembered—tall and commanding in an expensive suit that fit him perfectly. His deep blue eyes scanned the room before landing on me, a slight smile touching his lips.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said smoothly. "I believe my wife forgot something in my car."

My "family" stared at him, their expressions a mix of surprise and suspicion. I couldn't blame them. Even I was struck again by how gorgeous he was—and how out of place he looked in the Davis living room.

Richard recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Ethan. "So you're the man who supposedly married my daughter yesterday?"

Ethan extended his hand, which Richard deliberately ignored. "Ethan Blackwood. And yes, Amanda and I were married yesterday."

Richard snorted, looking Ethan up and down. "What are you, some kind of model? How much did she pay you for this little charade?"

Ethan withdrew his hand, his expression cooling. "I understand this is a surprise, Mr. Davis. But I assure you, our marriage is legitimate."

Madison pushed forward, her eyes raking over Ethan's body with obvious interest. "I'm Madison, Amanda's sister. So nice to meet you, Ethan."

"Step-sister," I corrected automatically.

Ethan nodded at Madison without much interest, then turned to me. "Ready to go, Amanda? We have that appointment to discuss our living arrangements."

I hadn't known about any appointment, but I was more than ready to escape this house. "Yes, let's go."

Richard stepped between us, his face red with fury. "Now wait just a minute! Amanda isn't going anywhere with you. This ridiculous marriage ends now!"

Ethan remained calm, but I noticed a subtle change in his posture—something almost predatory. "Mr. Davis, I respect that you're Amanda's father. But she's my wife now, and she's free to make her own choices."

"Free?" Richard sputtered. "She doesn't know what's good for her! She needs to stay here and meet Harold Wilson tomorrow."

"Harold Wilson?" Ethan raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. "Is that the forty-something widower your father was trying to sell you to?"

Richard's face paled, then flushed with rage. "How dare you! This is a family matter!"

"Amanda is my family now," Ethan replied simply.

Richard forced a cold laugh. "Listen to me, pretty boy. I don't know what Amanda promised you for this little stunt, but it ends now. Get out of my house before I call security."

Ethan's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes made Richard take a small step back. "Amanda," Ethan said, without taking his eyes off Richard, "is there anything you need from this house?"

I shook my head. "Nothing I can't replace."

"Amanda!" Richard's voice rose dangerously. "Don't forget about your grandfather's situation."

The thinly veiled threat made my blood boil. I turned back, fixing Richard with an icy glare. "I'll handle my grandfather's care from now on. You don't need to concern yourself with it anymore."

Richard's face darkened. "You ungrateful little—"

"Careful, Mr. Davis," Ethan interrupted quietly. "That's my wife you're speaking to."

Something in Ethan's tone made Richard fall silent. He glared at us both, but made no move to stop us as Ethan placed his hand lightly on my lower back and guided me toward the door.

As we walked to Ethan's car, I felt a strange mix of relief and anxiety. I'd escaped the immediate threat of being sold off to Harold Wilson, but I was now leaving with a man who was still essentially a stranger to me.

Once we were in his car—a luxury vehicle that seemed far too expensive for a model—I finally asked the question burning in my mind. "How can you afford such an expensive car? Is it rented"

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he started the engine. The car purred to life with a gentle hum that spoke of precision engineering and a price tag I didn't want to contemplate.

"Not exactly," he replied in English, his tone casual but with an undercurrent I couldn't quite identify. "Let's just say modeling isn't my only source of income."

My hand instinctively moved to the door handle.

"Don't worry," he added quickly, noticing my gesture. "I'm not involved in anything illegal. I've just made some good investments over the years. Cryptocurrency, mostly. Got in early, got lucky."

I wasn't sure whether to believe him. His explanation sounded plausible, but then again, so had Richard's promises of protection before he tried to sell me off.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Somewhere safe," Ethan said. "I have a friend who runs a security firm. She can help us figure out what Harold Wilson's next move might be."

As we pulled away from the curb, I caught sight of Richard watching us from the window. The expression on his face wasn't anger anymore.

It was fear.