Chapter 6

Downstairs, Marcel leaned against the car door, watching as Colette emerged from the shadows. He suddenly realized this wildcat wasn't going to be easy to tame, but patience was something he had plenty of.

"Get in, Mrs. Larsen." Marcel opened the car door and made a gentlemanly gesture.

Colette shot him a look and slid into the seat without bothering to be polite.

"Drive, Laith," Marcel ordered.

Laith floored the gas, and the Maybach shot forward like an arrow.

In the back seat, Colette pulled out some snacks from her purse and started eating them, completely at ease.

"Hey, Mr. Larsen, do we need to take photos for the marriage license? You look like you've got unlucky recently. Want me to ward the back luck off? I'll give you a discount. 20% off," Colette joked.

Marcel closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and spun the ring on his finger. 'Hold it together,' he thought. 'She's my shield. I chose her, and I paid her.'

*****

When they arrived at the city hall, the Maybach drew a few curious glances from passersby.

Colette opened the car door. "Let's go."

Marcel stepped out and looked at her. She was dressed in something that probably cost less than 30 dollars. "You're really wearing that?" he asked.

"Well, do I need a ball gown to get a marriage license?" Colette glanced down at herself. "It's clean and neat. Mr. Larsen, this is a fake marriage, not a red carpet event."

Marcel was momentarily speechless. He checked his watch. "Let's go inside."

The hall was nearly empty. At a place like this, it should have been packed with couples lining up for their marriage licenses.

As soon as they reached the service window, a staff member in uniform approached. "Mr. Larsen."

"We're here for our marriage license," Marcel said bluntly.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Larsen, but the system is undergoing maintenance today. The entire district's marriage system is down, so we can't process anything right now," the staff member explained.

"Down?" Marcel repeated flatly.

"I-It's an unexpected situation," the staff member stammered.

Marcel turned around as an elderly man, dressed in a suit and sporting streaks of gray in his hair, walked in with a cane. He was flanked by four bodyguards in black.

It was Milton, the butler serving Ernesto, head of the Larsen family.

"Milton," Marcel said, narrowing his eyes.

"Ernesto told you to be careful about getting the marriage license. It's for your own good," Milton said, approaching with an air of disdain. "The Larsen family isn't a place anyone can marry into. Whether the system works depends entirely on Ernesto's mood."

He turned to Colette, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Ms. Juarez, right? You might fool others with your clever little schemes, but if you think you can marry into the Larsen family and become Marcel's wife, you're not nearly good enough.

"Leave now, and Ernesto might give you a little compensation for your trouble."

Colette raised an eyebrow, thinking, 'So he sees me as a gold-digger.' "How much?" she asked abruptly.

Milton paused in surprise before sneering. "300 thousand. That's more than enough for someone like you to live on comfortably for life."

"Only 300 thousand?" Colette scoffed, wrinkling her nose. "Mr. Larsen spent millions on that rundown building earlier on. No wonder the Larsens are declining generation after generation if the old man is this stingy."

"Outrageous!" Milton's face darkened as he slammed his cane on the floor. "Who taught you to speak to your elders like that? Where did you get the nerve?"

"I did," Marcel said, stepping forward to shield Colette. "Milton, go back and tell my grandpa that who I choose as my wife is my own business. If the system is 'down,' I'll get the license somewhere else."

"Mr. Marcel Larsen," Milton said, blocking their path, his tone cold and hard, "Mr. Ernesto Larsen made it clear. So long as he's around, you won't be getting married today. The entire marriage system in Linsiton is 'under maintenance.'"

This was the kind of power the Larsen family wielded.

Marcel's eyes darkened with anger, his fists clenching at his sides. 'Here it goes again,' he thought.

Just as Marcel was about to make a move, someone grabbed his shoulder.

Colette shoved him aside, strode to the counter, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

"What are you doing?" Milton asked.

"Shut up, old man. You're giving me a headache," Colette snapped and then turned to the staff member, who looked completely stunned. "Is the computer on?"

"Yes," the staff member replied.

"If the system is down, I'll fix it myself. No big deal," Colette said.

"Ridiculous!" Milton barked. "Someone throw this woman out. She doesn't know her place."

The four bodyguards stormed over at once.

"Laith," Marcel said coldly.

Laith and the Larsen family bodyguards immediately moved forward. The two groups faced each other in the narrow hall. The atmosphere crackled with tension.

Marcel's eyes stayed fixed on Colette.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and the error pop-ups vanished from the screen, replaced by streams of intricate green code on a black background.

Milton was completely dumbfounded.

"This firewall is ancient, five years old, and full of holes," Colette complained casually as she typed.

A flicker of surprise crossed Marcel's face. 'How many secrets does this woman have?' he wondered.

"Done," Colette said, pressing Enter with force. Instantly, the previously dead computers sprang to life. The number call system buzzed back on, and the printers hummed as they warmed up.

On the screen, the city hall's backend appeared, and every function was unlocked.

"Why are you all standing there? Take the photos and stamp the papers. Finish in five minutes, or I'll plaster your director's browsing history across the big screen," Colette snapped.

"Mrs. Larsen, your skills are impressive," Marcel said, nodding in satisfaction.

"Come closer, you two lovebirds. Smile for the camera!" a staff member called.

Marcel reached for Colette, pulling her close with his arm sliding around her waist.

Colette stiffened, and without thinking, she elbowed him in the ribs. "Pay up," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sure," Marcel murmured with quiet amusement, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

The camera clicked, capturing the moment. Marcel looked handsome and composed with a faint smile on his lips. Colette appeared icy and breathtaking, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

A few minutes later, the marriage license was in their hands.

Colette grabbed it, stood up, and strode toward Milton.

"Take a good look," she said with her hands in her pockets and her chin lifted with defiance. "Certified and legal.

"Go tell the old man that if he wants to break us up, fine. Let him file for divorce properly. But I don't come cheap. If I don't get half of Marcel's fortune, my signature isn't happening."

"Y-You—" Milton shook with fury, pointing at Colette but unable to speak.

"Shut up," Colette snapped and then turned to Marcel. "Let's go. I'm starving."

'Nice!' Marcel thought, feeling a surge of delight that nearly made him chuckle.

"Milton, we have the marriage license," Marcel said, adjusting his cuff with icy detachment. "From now on, when you see her, call her Mrs. Larsen. You know the Larsen family rules better than anyone." With that, he strode after Colette.