Chapter 86
2269words
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Library
Late Afternoon
Kristina didn’t stop until she reached the library. The heavy door swung wide, slamming against the wall before she shoved it shut behind her. The sound echoed through the cavernous room, sharp as the breath she dragged in.
She paced between the tall windows and the shelves, her hands tight at her sides, her pulse so loud she could hear it in her ears.
The door opened again. Eli slipped in, quiet but unhesitating. He closed it carefully this time, the soft click at odds with the storm still in the air.
“Kristina,” he said.
She whirled on him, eyes blazing. “Don’t. Don’t tell me it’s fine. Don’t tell me it’s just paper.”
He stayed where he was at first, giving her the space she carved out with her fury. “I wasn’t going to,” he said evenly.
Her chest rose and fell hard. “They want me to stand there and marry him. And you—” her voice broke, and she shook her head fiercely, “—you’ll just be standing on the side. Like you don’t even count.”
Eli stepped closer, slow, careful. “I count. You know I do.”
Tears pressed at her eyes, but anger burned hotter. “Not to them. Not to the law. One signature, and suddenly it’s Lucian who has the rights, Lucian who gets recognized. And you—” her voice splintered, “—you’re nothing. Do you understand how wrong that is?”
“I do.” His voice stayed soft, but firm. “I know it’s wrong. But Kris—what we are doesn’t vanish because a clerk stamps a paper. You stormed out of that room because the thought of me being written out made you sick. That alone proves it. I’m not erased. Not here.” He touched his chest, then looked at her. “Not with you.”
Her hands curled into fists, trembling. “But it feels like choosing.”
“No.” He shook his head, closing the last of the distance now. “It feels like surviving. Like making sure that when the world tries to test us, we’ve already built the walls higher.”
She faltered, her shoulders sagging, though her eyes still burned. “What if saying those vows changes us? What if it changes me?”
Eli reached for her hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Then I’ll be standing there watching, and I’ll still know it doesn’t make me less. It just makes us stronger. You can’t break what’s already this bound.”
Her breath shuddered, the fight in her body giving way to the ache underneath. And when he pulled her into his arms, she didn’t resist.
For the first time since the study, she let herself lean into him, letting the silence soften around them.
The quiet stretched, broken only by her uneven breaths and the slow rhythm of his hand at her back.
Then the door opened again.
Lucian stood just inside the threshold, his posture still as stone, though his eyes carried the weight of everything left behind in the study. He didn’t speak right away. He only watched them—Kristina folded into Eli, Eli holding her like the ground itself might give way if he didn’t.
When he finally moved, it was careful, unhurried. He closed the door behind him, his voice low but steady.
“This isn’t about choosing,” he said.
Kristina turned her head, her face half-buried against Eli’s shoulder, her eyes sharp through the tears. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened, but he came closer, stopping just short of them. His hands stayed at his sides, though his voice carried the same unyielding certainty as before. “If the state demands a choice on paper, then I’ll give it to them. But that choice doesn’t touch us. Not in this house. Not in this life. You both know that.”
The silence that followed was thick, pressing in around the three of them. Kristina’s breath hitched; Eli’s arm only tightened around her.
Lucian’s gaze softened, the edge of command giving way to something quieter. “I will sign whatever law requires. But nothing they write can take from us what we’ve already claimed.”
Kristina’s lips trembled, her anger blurring into grief again. And for the first time since the study, she let herself look at both of them at once—the one who steadied her fire, and the one who anchored it.
The library held them in its stillness, the storm outside the door waiting.
Kristina shook her head, her voice breaking. “All of this—every word they said in that study—makes it feel like love could be bargained over. Like one signature will decide which one of you I belong to. I won’t let them cut us apart that way.”
Eli’s hand moved gently along her arm, grounding her, but he didn’t speak. His silence said he understood the weight she carried—yet it also said he didn’t have the words to answer it.
Lucian stepped closer. His tone was calm, steady, but his eyes held hers without wavering. “They’re not wrong about one thing, Kristina. To the outside world, the law is everything. Without it, we have no protection. The way we live—the way we love—will be torn apart the moment someone decides to challenge it. Marriage isn’t about choosing one of us over the other. It’s about building a shield the world can’t break through.”
She frowned, her breathing uneven. “A shield?”
“Yes,” Lucian said simply. “On paper, it locks down everything—inheritance, custody, assets, influence. It means no one can walk in and claim you don’t belong here, or that Eli doesn’t, or that I don’t. It closes the loopholes before they’re used against us.”
Eli finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “It doesn’t erase what’s between us, Kris. It protects it. Even if only one of us signs our name beside yours, it’s all three of us who stand behind that ink.”
Her lips trembled, tears still caught in her lashes. “But it feels like surrender. Like admitting they get to define us.”
Lucian’s expression gentled, though the steel never left his voice. “No. It’s refusing to let them destroy us. We decide what the marriage means. Not them. Not the law. Us.”
For a long moment, the library was silent but for her shallow breaths. Then Kristina looked between them—the one who held her like she might shatter, and the one who met the storm in her eyes without blinking.
Maybe, she thought, they weren’t asking her to surrender. Maybe they were asking her to understand.
Kristina swallowed hard, her voice low but trembling. “Lucian… I’m sorry. The way I reacted—it must have felt like I don’t want to marry you. Like I’m pushing you away when all you’ve ever done is try to keep us safe.”
Lucian’s brow softened, and he shook his head slowly. “Kristina, you don’t owe me an apology.”
Her chest tightened. “But I—”
“You don’t have to apologize for being afraid,” he said gently, stepping closer. “And you don’t have to carry the weight of thinking I doubt you. I know what you want. I know where your heart is. None of this changes that.”
Her eyes brimmed again, tears threatening to fall. “I just—when Maren started talking about marriage like it was just leverage, I felt like she was turning us into a transaction. And I panicked. I didn’t think about what it might sound like to you.”
Lucian reached for her hand then, steady and deliberate. “I understand. Better than you realize. And nothing you said made me question what we are.”
Eli glanced between them, his hand still lightly on Kristina’s arm, his jaw tight but his eyes soft. He didn’t interrupt—he didn’t need to. In the space between them, something unspoken settled: forgiveness, and the quiet assurance that no storm would shake their foundation.
Eli finally shifted, his thumb brushing along her arm as if to remind her he was still there. “You don’t have to carry it alone, Kris. Not the fear, not the guilt. You think we didn’t feel the same crack in the air when Maren said those things? I did. I hated every word of it. But what Lucian said is true—it’s not about giving them power over us. It’s about making sure no one else ever can.”
Kristina turned toward him, searching his face. “But doesn’t it make you feel… left out? If it’s me and Lucian on paper, doesn’t that push you aside?”
Eli’s mouth curved into a soft, almost rueful smile. “If I thought paper could erase me from you, I’d have walked away a long time ago. But it can’t. It never will. Marriage on paper doesn’t shrink us—it just puts a wall up around what we’ve already built.”
He caught her gaze, holding it. “I don’t need my name on the license to know I’m yours. I need it for when the world tries to tell me I’m not.”
The words landed heavy in the quiet library, a truth neither of them had said aloud before.
For a long moment, Kristina just breathed between them, caught in the gravity of their words. Her hand was still in Lucian’s, Eli still anchoring her other side, and she realized she wasn’t standing alone in this storm after all.
Lucian’s voice broke the quiet, low and steady. “The law will recognize one marriage. That much is true. But we don’t have to let that be the end of it.” His thumb brushed lightly against her hand. “We can make our own vows. The kind that belong to all three of us. Not legal, not binding on paper—but binding where it matters. And I want the world to see it.”
Kristina’s breath caught. “Lucian… what do you mean?”
Eli leaned in slightly, curiosity written plain on his face. “Yeah. What exactly are you suggesting?”
Lucian’s gaze flicked between them, steady, certain. “If you want to know more, we can go back to the study. Maren is still there. It was her suggestion, after all. She’ll explain it better.”
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Lucian’s Study
The walk back to the study was quieter than the storm that had driven her out of it. Kristina’s hand remained caught between Lucian’s and Eli’s, steadying her with every step. When they crossed the threshold, Maren looked up from the folders she hadn’t yet put away. Her brows lifted only slightly, her composure as precise as ever.
Kristina paused just inside the door, words tumbling before she could sit. “I’m sorry for storming out earlier,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you. Or this process. I just… needed a moment.”
Maren’s expression softened by a fraction, enough to ease the sharp edges of the room. “You don’t owe me an apology, Kristina. The law has a way of sounding colder than the life it touches. I expected strong reactions.”
Kristina nodded faintly, relief loosening her shoulders. She allowed Lucian’s gentle nudge to guide her toward the couch across from Maren, where Eli had already settled. This time, she took the place between them, Lucian on her left, Eli on her right—neither behind, neither apart.
When all three were seated, Maren closed the folder in front of her and folded her hands over it, her gaze steady. “Then let’s continue.”
Maren’s eyes moved deliberately over each of them, taking in the quiet alignment of Kristina between Lucian and Eli. “What I suggested earlier—the symbolic ceremony—is not legally binding. It doesn’t change the protections we’ve put in place. But it does something equally important: it shows the world, and yourselves, the bond you’ve already created.”
She paused briefly, then added, “And for the legal wedding itself, it need not be grand. If there are concerns about making Eli feel left out or overshadowed, the marriage can be quiet—just the necessary paperwork at the courthouse. Unannounced, not publicized—simply the act. That way, the symbolic ceremony can be the one that everyone sees, the one that carries the celebration and acknowledgment you truly want.”
Kristina’s brow furrowed slightly. “So… it’s like a declaration?”
“In essence,” Maren replied, her tone precise, “yes. A declaration of commitment, recognition, and equality. Not just in intention, but in visibility. Your families, your friends, even colleagues—they see you as a unit, not fragmented by law or circumstance. It’s symbolic, but it carries weight. It marks what is already true in your lives.”
Eli leaned forward, fingers brushing Kristina’s lightly. “And this… makes it real for everyone else?”
Maren nodded once. “It does. For you, it’s affirmation. For the world, it’s acknowledgment. The ceremony can be as private or as public as you choose—it isn’t about ceremony itself, but about showing that what you’ve chosen is already permanent in your hearts.”
Lucian’s gaze softened on Kristina. “It doesn’t change what we have legally, but it ensures the world sees it too. And that matters in its own way.”
Kristina exhaled slowly, letting the tension in her shoulders ease. “I understand now. It isn’t about the law. It’s about… being seen.”
“Exactly,” Maren said, a faint trace of approval in her voice. “And it’s entirely yours to define—how it looks, who witnesses it, and what it symbolizes. The law protects your rights, the ceremony affirms your choice.”
Eli’s hand found hers again, and she squeezed it gently. Lucian’s presence on the other side was steady, reassuring. For the first time since the storm of emotion that afternoon, Kristina felt the weight of certainty settle around them—not from paperwork, not from obligation, but from the life they were building together.
Paper can bind, but only together do we make it real.
—To be continued.
