The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

The waiting room at the City Clerk's office was a depressing mix of fluorescent lights and linoleum floors.

Aisha tapped her foot nervously. She kept checking the door, half-expecting her father to burst in with a team of lawyers to drag her away.

"Relax," Dominic said. He was leaning back in the plastic chair, reading an old copy of People magazine. "You look like you're waiting for an execution, not a wedding."

"Same thing," she muttered.

"Number 42!" the clerk called out.

They walked up to the glass partition.

"IDs," the clerk said without looking up.

Aisha handed over her driver's license. Dominic handed over his.

The clerk picked up Dominic's ID. She paused. She squinted at it, then looked up at him. Her eyes widened.

"Fields?" she asked, her voice a little breathless. She looked from the ID to his face. "Like... the Fields family? Fields Global?"

Aisha froze. "Fields?" She looked at Dominic. "Like... the Fields?"

Dominic didn't flinch. He leaned in, resting his arm on the counter. He gave the clerk a conspiratorial wink and lowered his voice.

"Distant cousin," he said. "The black sheep. You know how it is. Got the name, didn't get the money."

He made a frantic shh gesture, glancing around as if hiding from someone.

The clerk giggled. "Oh, I get it. Hiding from the rich relatives?"

"Exactly," Dominic said.

The clerk stamped the form. "Sign here."

Aisha stared at him as they moved to the side. "Fields?"

"It's a common name," he shrugged. "Smith, Jones, Fields."

"It's really not," she said. "But fine. Just don't let my father know you're related to them, even distantly. He hates that family. They crushed him in a deal in '98."

"Noted," Dominic said.

The ceremony took three minutes.

"Do you, Aisha, take Dominic..."

"I do." Her voice was small.

"Do you, Dominic..."

"I do." His voice was strong, grounding.

He slid a silver ring onto her finger. It was cheap-she had bought it at a pawn shop on the way over-but his hand was steady.

"By the power vested in me..."

They were married.

They walked out into the sunshine. Aisha felt a strange sense of vertigo. She was safe. Legally, she was safe.

Her phone pinged. A notification from her bank. Account Unfrozen.

She let out a laugh, half-hysterical. "It worked. He unlocked it."

She immediately opened her banking app and transferred $6,000 to the Venmo account Dominic had set up.

"There," she said. "Your first month's salary."

Dominic checked his phone. You received $6,000 from Aisha B.

He stared at it. It was the most satisfying money he had ever earned.

"Celebration time," Aisha said. "I'm starving."

She led him to a hot dog cart on the corner.

"Really?" Dominic asked, eyeing the questionable water the sausages were floating in.

"It's two dollars," she said. "And it's delicious. Eat up, husband."

Dominic took a bite. Mustard dripped onto his hand. It was salty, greasy, and terrible.

He loved it.

A long, black limousine with tinted windows drove slowly past them. The license plate read FG 1.

Dominic turned his back to the street, shielding his face with the hot dog.

"What's wrong?" Aisha asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled, mouth full. "Just... savoring the flavor."

Aisha hailed a yellow cab. "Come on. We have to go to the lion's den. I need to introduce you to the family."