“Miss Victoria Jameson,” the judge announced. “Which union will you choose to secure your family legacy?”
Eric stepped forward confidently.
But Victoria lifted the golden pen and glanced toward the garden entrance.
Logan stood there in the shadows.
She took a deep breath.
“I choose the only man who told me the truth,” she said clearly. “I choose Logan Maddox.”
Gasps rippled through the ballroom.
Someone dropped a glass. It shattered loudly.
Eric grabbed her wrist.
“You’ve lost your mind,” he hissed.
Victoria pulled her arm free and signed the document.
Within minutes, the marriage was official.
That night she rode beside Logan in silence in the back of a dark limousine heading to the Maddox estate outside Los Angeles.
The bedroom waiting for them was enormous and elegant.
But Logan didn’t approach the bed.
Instead, he removed his coat and lay down on the couch.
“You’ll have my name,” he said calmly. “It will protect your empire. But you won’t see my face or share my bed until you truly understand who I am.”
Over the next few days tabloids exploded with rumors about their strange marriage. Investors questioned Victoria’s judgment.
Eventually she demanded answers.