Chapter 1
Michael Grant said, "Nicole, this is your husband?
"A lowly cop?"
Chloe Bennett gasped dramatically. "Nicole, are you out of your mind? Mr. Grant has been chasing you for ages, and you turned him down just to marry some broke loser out of the blue?"
I gripped our marriage license. Elvis Rivers stood quietly by my side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders in a silent show of support.
Then, he looked up, his eyes icy as he stared straight at Michael, whose face was twisted with disdain. "You have no right to judge my wife."
*****
Outside the city hall, Elvis and I stood holding our freshly issued marriage license, exchanging awkward glances.
The air was filled with an awkward, almost surreal tension.
Three hours ago, we reunited at our high school reunion.
Two hours ago, Elvis said, "I've been into you for ten years, Nicole. Let's get married."
An hour ago, I said, "Okay."
I must have been out of my mind.
I looked at Elvis standing next to me. He wore a plain white shirt and black pants, standing tall and straight, and his expression was cool and distant—just like the quiet, top student I remembered from high school.
But now, he was my husband.
He was also an ordinary detective in the city's crime squad.
My phone rang at the worst possible moment. It was Michael Grant, my superior and the guy who'd been pursuing me for years.
Without thinking, I hung up.
But his message popped up right after: [Nicole, want to grab dinner tonight? There's a new restaurant on the south side of the city.]
I frowned, but before I could reply, Michael's sports car pulled up with a showy drift right in front of us.
He rolled down the window, sunglasses on, wearing a confident, almost predatory smile.
But the moment he spotted Elvis by my side and that the marriage license in our hands, his grin froze.
"Nicole, this is your husband?" Michael practically shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief. "A lowly cop?"
His date, Chloe Bennett, a pretentious woman at our office, gasped dramatically. "Nicole, are you out of your mind? Mr. Grant has been chasing you for ages, and you turned him down just to marry some broke loser out of the blue?"
I clenched the marriage license, my heart stinging like it had been stabbed.
A broke loser? My husband was a hero who protected this city. He was not someone they could measure with money.
Just as I was about to snap back, Elvis moved first.
Without a word, he pulled me into his arms, and his strong embrace made me feel safe and protected.
The next second, he looked up, his icy gaze cutting straight through Michael like a blade. "You have no right to judge my wife."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that left no room for argument.
Michael was stunned for a second by Elvis's icy glare, and then his anger flared. "You're just a damn cop. How dare you act all tough?
"Nicole, you and he probably can't even afford a place to live. But with me, you could have whatever you want."
I was so mad that I was trembling. When I was about to curse Michael out, Elvis's phone suddenly rang.
He glanced at the caller ID, moved away to take the call, and spoke in a low, serious tone. "Look into Grant Group.
"Yeah, all their operations.
"Give me the report in five minutes."
I assumed it was some routine cop stuff and didn't really pay it much mind.
After hanging up, Elvis walked back over, his expression calm as ever. "Let's go home."
Michael kept yelling after us, "Go home? To a shabby rental? Nicole, you'll regret this."
Elvis ignored him completely and took my hand, leading me to a plain black Volkswagen.
We hadn't even driven far when my phone started blowing up.
It was the company group chat, exploding with messages.
[Hot scoop. Grant Group just got busted for tax evasion. Tax authorities are already on the case.]
[Rumor has it that every single partner is cutting ties, and their stock plummeted as soon as trading started.]
I stared at my phone in disbelief, and my gaze automatically drifted to Elvis at the wheel.
He was laser-focused, his profile strong and determined, bathed in the golden light of sunset.
This has to be a coincidence, right?
My home was a cramped old rental, barely 500 square feet.
As I led my newlywed husband inside, a wave of embarrassment washed over me.
"Sorry, it's a bit cramped. Hope you don't mind," I said, fidgeting awkwardly with my hands.
Elvis glanced around, his eyes settling on my tiny single bed. His brow furrowed ever slightly.
Was he put off by this? Well, it made sense. A guy over six feet tall could never fit on that thing.
"It's fine, really," Elvis said, setting down his simple duffel bag, his tone unreadable. "It feels cozy here, like a real home."
I forced a nervous chuckle and dug out some instant spaghetti from the fridge. "As for dinner... I guess we'll have to settle for this tonight."
Elvis looked at the instant spaghetti in silence for a moment, and then casually rolled up his shirt sleeves, showing off those defined forearms. "I'll take care of it."
Half an hour later, my jaw dropped as I stared at the table. Several dishes filled the room with a mouthwatering aroma.
How could a cop cook this well? Seriously, I really picked an amazing husband.
I buried myself in the food, eating like there was no tomorrow. Elvis sat quietly, watching me, and every now and then he'd pick up some food and place it on my plate.
"Slow down. No one's fighting you for it," Elvis said softly, his voice laced with a gentle indulgence I hadn't even noticed.