Betrayed By Ex, Married To The Tycoon

Half an hour later, Elva and Bronson walked side-by-side down the wide, white marble steps of the New York City Hall.

Elva held a freshly printed piece of paper in her hand. The ink was still warm.

She stared at the marriage certificate, her eyes tracing over the name written next to hers: Bronson Ramirez. The reality of what she had just done felt bizarre, yet incredibly grounding.

She glanced sideways at the towering man beside her. "Are you actually related to the Ramirez family? The billionaires?"

Bronson's expression didn't change. He adjusted his cuffs, his tone dismissive. "A distant branch. Barely worth mentioning at their dinner table."

The explanation was smooth, but Elva's internal alarms only rang louder. She didn't believe him for a second. A man with this level of suffocating presence and a custom-armored Maybach wasn't just some forgotten relative. He was dangerous. He was hiding something massive. But right now, she needed a shield to block Warren's fatal blow, and this mysterious predator was offering her the perfect weapon. She would play his game for now, keeping her guard raised to the absolute maximum.

They slid back into the waiting Maybach.

"Fifth Avenue. Cartier," Bronson ordered the driver.

Elva frowned, turning to him. "That's not necessary. The whole point of a contract marriage is to keep it low-profile."

Bronson leaned back against the plush leather seat, his presence dominating the back of the car. "If we are doing this, we do it right."

He turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "If you walk back into the Schmitt estate without a rock on your finger, your uncle won't believe a word of it. We need a prop."

The Maybach glided to a halt in front of the flagship Cartier store.

The store manager and three senior associates were already lined up at the glass doors, bowing slightly as Bronson stepped onto the pavement.

Elva followed him into the hushed, heavily guarded VIP room. Velvet trays lined with blinding, multi-million-dollar diamonds were immediately brought out.

She didn't want to owe him more than necessary. She pointed to a simple, unadorned platinum band in the corner of the tray. "That one is fine."

Bronson completely ignored her finger.

He reached past her and picked up a breathtaking, three-carat flawless pink diamond ring.

Before Elva could protest, Bronson dropped to one knee right there on the thick carpet. He reached out and wrapped his large, warm hand around her left wrist.

Elva's fingers twitched. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm. She instinctively tried to yank her hand back, but his grip was like iron-gentle, but entirely immovable.

He slid the heavy pink diamond onto her ring finger. It slid over her knuckle and settled perfectly into place, as if it had been custom-made for her.

He looked up, his dark eyes burning into hers. "This is the standard for Mrs. Ramirez."

Elva's muscles instantly tensed, every survival instinct she possessed screaming at her to step back. A 'distant branch' relative casually dropping millions on a flawless pink diamond without blinking? He was either testing her greed, or he was so unimaginably powerful that he didn't care about exposing his lie. The sheer, terrifying weight of his true identity pressed against her mind. She quickly looked away, swallowing hard to mask the cold, sharp calculation racing through her brain.

Suddenly, her phone started vibrating violently in her pocket.

She pulled her hand free and dug out the phone. The screen flashed with Warren's name.

The warmth in Elva's eyes instantly froze over. She hit answer and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Where the hell are you? !" Warren's enraged roar blasted through the speaker. "Get your ass back to the estate right now!"

Erick had clearly gone crying to the family.

Elva's voice dropped to a lethal, icy calm. "I'm coming back. But not to listen to your barking. I'm coming to take what belongs to me."

She ended the call and tossed the phone into her purse.

Bronson had already signed the exorbitant bill and slipped a simple platinum band onto his own finger. He watched the murderous intent settling over Elva's features.

"I can go with you," Bronson offered, his voice low and steady. "As your husband, it's my right."

Elva shook her head, her eyes hard. "No. This is my mess. I'm going to clean it up myself."