The Secretary's Fake Rockstar Husband

Cora pushed through the heavy glass doors of the City Clerk's office. The massive room was packed with people. The air was loud with chatter, crying babies, and the hum of fluorescent lights. Callum walked beside her, his tall frame easily parting the crowd. They pulled a paper ticket from the dispenser and sat down on a hard wooden bench in the corner. A minute later, the glass doors banged open. Simon ran in, panting heavily. He was clutching a cheap, flimsy cardboard folder with a faded logo on it. Simon collapsed onto the bench next to Callum. "The parking meters around here are a literal robbery," he gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. He opened the folder and pulled out a stapled stack of papers. He shoved them into Cora's hands. "Standard procedure," Simon said, his voice grating. "I had my lawyer draft this up overnight. Prenup." Cora looked down at the document. She flipped to the second page. The legal jargon was dense, but the core message was clear: complete separation of assets. In the event of a divorce, the wife had zero claim to Callum's future music royalties, copyrights, or any property acquired during the marriage. Instead of feeling insulted, Cora felt a massive wave of relief wash over her. The tight knot in her stomach finally loosened. This proved Callum wasn't a con artist trying to steal her meager savings. It was exactly what he said it was-a business transaction. She didn't even bother reading the rest. She pulled a cheap ballpoint pen from her purse and signed her name on the last page. Callum watched her. His jaw tightened. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her signature. He looked genuinely annoyed by how easily she trusted a legal document. Simon snatched the papers back, checked the signature, and let out a massive sigh of relief, hugging the folder to his chest like it held a million dollars. "Number 142," a robotic voice echoed from the overhead speakers. Callum stood up. "That's us." They walked up to a plexiglass window. A middle-aged clerk with a deeply bored expression held out her hand. "IDs." Cora handed over her New York driver's license. Callum slid a slightly battered passport under the glass. The clerk typed aggressively on her keyboard. She didn't look up. "Marriage license fee is thirty-five dollars. Cash or card." Callum reached into his back pocket. His fingers slid inside, grasping a worn, battered leather wallet he had meticulously prepared for this exact charade. He pulled it out, opening it with a perfectly calculated look of embarrassment to reveal a pathetic lack of funds. The frayed edges of the leather seemed to scream poverty. Behind them, Simon let out a nervous, jagged cough. His face turned paper-white. He stared at Callum with wide, panicked eyes, terrified that the clerk would somehow see through the elaborate facade they were building. He chewed on his lower lip, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple. Callum sighed, leaning into his role with absolute precision. He let a flicker of genuine chagrin cross his handsome face. He patted his front jeans pockets, digging around awkwardly. He pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill and a few singles. It wasn't even twenty bucks. The clerk tapped her long acrylic nails against the desk. The couple in line behind them groaned impatiently. Callum turned to Cora. He offered a sheepish, incredibly charming smile. "I left my other wallet in my other jeans," he said softly. Cora looked at the crumpled bills in his hand. Any lingering doubt she had vanished completely. No mastermind scammer would be this pathetically broke. She unzipped her purse, pulled out her debit card, and slid it under the glass. "I've got it." The clerk swiped the card, printed a receipt, and shoved a thin piece of paper toward them. "Congratulations. Next." Cora picked up the marriage license. It felt weightless, yet it was the heaviest thing she had ever held. Callum looked down at her. "When my first royalty check clears, I promise I'll pay you back the thirty-five dollars." Cora let out a sudden, genuine laugh. It was the first time she had smiled in 48 hours. Simon stood a few feet away, hiding his face behind the cardboard folder, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. The clerk pointed a pen toward a hallway. "Ceremony room is down the hall to the left." Callum reached out and took Cora's hand. His palm was hot, his fingers wrapping firmly around hers. The physical contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. Cora's shoulders stiffened, but she didn't pull away. She let him lead her down the hallway.