Reborn Mother: The Billionaire's Ruthless Bride

The heavy thud of the brass doors sealing shut echoed through the empty marble lobby of the City Clerk's office.

The silence inside was absolute, broken only by the low hum of the central air conditioning.

The millisecond the latch clicked, Karson recoiled. He ripped his arm away from Hazel's shoulder as if her skin were made of burning acid.

He took a massive step backward, putting three feet of physical distance between them.

His face was a mask of pure revulsion. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a perfectly folded, pure white silk handkerchief.

He kept his head down, slowly and meticulously wiping the palm and fingers of the hand that had touched her shoulder. Every swipe of the fabric was precise, radiating an overwhelming, silent disgust. He rubbed the silk against his skin until he was satisfied the phantom taint was gone.

When he was finished, he didn't throw it away like a petulant child. Instead, he folded the contaminated silk with rigid, calculated movements and slid it into a separate, isolated pocket of his coat, his dark eyes fixed on her with absolute revulsion.

In her past life, watching him throw away something he used to touch her had felt like a knife twisting in her stomach.

Now, Hazel just watched him, her breathing perfectly calm. She adjusted the collar of her shirt and set Serena down on her feet, holding her small hand.

"Just a transaction, Mr. King," Hazel said. Her voice was flat, carrying no emotion whatsoever. "There's no need to overreact."

Karson's hand stopped mid-air. He turned his head, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her face.

He had expected her to cling to the fake intimacy they had just performed outside. He expected her to try and leverage it.

"Remember your place," Karson warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Leave the theatrics outside. Do not attempt to bring that garbage into my private life."

Hazel met his glare with absolute indifference. "I have zero interest in your private life. As long as the monthly checks clear the trust account, I will be a ghost."

Their eyes locked in a silent, freezing battle of wills. The air between them crackled with hostility. Arthur, standing near the metal detectors, held his breath, terrified of the tension.

A nervous clerk in a cheap suit scurried over, breaking the standoff. "Mr. King, Miss Rose, right this way to the VIP room, please."

Karson scoffed. He adjusted his tie, turned his back on them, and strode down the hallway, not bothering to see if they were following.

Hazel walked at her own pace, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She watched his broad, tense back, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction at how easily she had irritated him.

Inside the VIP room, the clerk pushed two marriage registration forms across a polished wooden table, along with a heavy silver pen.

Karson didn't sit down. He snatched the pen, leaned over the table, and slashed his signature across the paper with violent, aggressive strokes. It looked like he was signing a hostile takeover document.

He threw the pen down. It hit the wood with a sharp clack.

Hazel sat down gracefully. She picked up the pen, her grip relaxed. She signed the document with neat, precise letters.

Hazel Rose.

She did not add the name King.

The clerk stamped the documents with a heavy embosser. "Congratulations. You are legally married."

Karson didn't reach for his copy. Arthur stepped forward, quickly sliding the paper into his briefcase.

Hazel took her copy with both hands. She stared at the raised seal. A massive weight lifted off her chest. Serena was legally protected.

"Arthur, get the car to the back alley," Karson ordered, already walking toward the exit. "I am not dealing with those animals out front again."

Ten minutes later, they were standing in a dark, damp alley behind the building. A black SUV idled quietly, a bodyguard holding the rear door open.

Karson got in first. He slid all the way to the far side, pressing himself into the corner of the leather seat. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, radiating a clear message: Do not speak to me.

Hazel lifted a sleepy Serena and climbed into the cabin. She sat as far away from Karson as physically possible, pressing her shoulder against the opposite door.

The heavy door slammed shut. The SUV pulled out of the alley, carrying the newly minted, entirely hostile husband and wife back toward Long Island.