The Disgraced Husband Is the Septamillionaire Heir

Chapter 7

The civil affairs bureau was a sterile, fluorescent-lit building that smelled faintly of cleaning solution and stale coffee. Caden sat stiffly in a plastic chair, a red marriage certificate clutched in his hand, still trying to process what had just happened.

Married. He was married.

To Vivian Montgomery, who sat three chairs away from him, as far as the waiting area would allow, staring at her own certificate like it was a death sentence written in official government ink.

The ride there had been silent. The paperwork had been completed in record time, thanks to the grandfather's connections. The photographs had been awkward—Vivian's smile looked like it had been carved into her face with a knife, while Caden's expression could only be described as shell-shocked.

And now they were married.

"Well," Caden said finally, breaking the oppressive silence. "That was—"

"Don't." Vivian's voice was ice. "Don't say a word. Not here. Not now. Not ever."

She stood abruptly, smoothing down her dress with mechanical precision, and walked toward the exit without looking back. Caden scrambled to follow, shoving the marriage certificate into his jacket pocket.

They emerged onto the street into the harsh afternoon sunlight. Caden squinted, opening his mouth to say something—anything—when a car horn blared, and a sleek white Mercedes convertible screeched to a stop at the curb.

"VIVIAN!"

A woman leaped out of the driver's seat—tall, glamorous, with honey-blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders in perfect waves. She wore designer sunglasses perched on her head, a form-fitting red dress, and heels that could double as weapons.

"Madison?" Vivian said, surprise briefly breaking through her cold facade.

Madison Crawford—heiress, socialite, and Vivian's best friend since childhood—rushed over and grabbed Vivian's hands. "I just heard! Your grandfather actually went through with it? You're really engaged to—" Her eyes slid to Caden, looking him up and down with barely concealed skepticism. "—him?"

"Married, actually," Vivian said flatly, holding up the red certificate like evidence at a crime scene.

Madison's perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up. "Married? Already? But I thought—wait, your family actually agreed to this?"

"My grandfather left us no choice," Vivian said, her tone suggesting exactly how she felt about that.

Madison circled Caden slowly, like a predator assessing prey. Her smile was bright and friendly, but her eyes were calculating. "Well, well. So you're the lucky man who swept our Vivian off her feet. Caden, right?"

"That's right," Caden said carefully. Something about this woman set off warning bells in his head.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Madison's smile widened. "You know what? This calls for a celebration! We should go to the club. Azure Lounge—it's where all our friends hang out. You can meet everyone, we can toast to your new marriage, make it official in front of society. What do you say?"

Caden glanced at Vivian, who was staring at Madison with an expression that might have been warning or resignation—he couldn't quite tell.

"I don't know if that's—" he started.

"Oh, come on!" Madison linked her arm through Vivian's. "Don't be shy. You're family now, right? Part of our circle. You should see where we spend our time, meet the people who matter. Unless..." She tilted her head, her smile turning sharper. "Unless you're not comfortable in that kind of environment?"

The challenge was clear. Caden straightened his shoulders. "I'd be happy to join you."

"Perfect!" Madison clapped her hands together. "Follow us in your car. Azure Lounge, downtown. You can't miss it—it's the building with all the expensive cars parked outside."

She pulled Vivian toward the Mercedes. Vivian shot Caden one last look over her shoulder—a look that said you have no idea what you just agreed to—before sliding into the passenger seat.

Caden watched them drive off, then pulled out his phone to call a taxi. This was either going to be very interesting or very, very bad.

Probably both.

Azure Lounge occupied the ground floor of a sleek high-rise in the heart of the city's most exclusive district. Even from half a block away, Caden could see the line of luxury vehicles parked along the curb—Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Bentleys, a Rolls-Royce that probably cost more than most houses.

The taxi driver whistled low. "You sure this is where you want to go, buddy? This place is serious money. Like, oil tycoon money."

"I'm sure," Caden said, handing over the fare.

He stepped out onto the sidewalk and approached the entrance. The building itself was all dark glass and chrome, with discreet blue lighting that gave it an otherworldly glow. A red carpet led to massive double doors, and standing guard were two security personnel who looked like they bench-pressed small cars for fun.

Madison and Vivian were already inside, having swept past the guards with barely a glance. Caden walked up confidently.

One of the guards—a boulder of a man with a shaved head—held up a hand. "Hold it."

Caden stopped. "I'm with the Montgomery party. They just went inside."

The guard looked him up and down, taking in his off-the-rack jacket and practical shoes. "Membership card."

"I don't have one yet. I just arrived in the city—"

"No card, no entry." The guard's tone was final. "Club rules."

"Look, I'm with Vivian Montgomery. She's my—" Caden hesitated. The word still felt foreign. "—wife. She just went in with her friend."

The second guard—equally massive but with a thick beard—snorted. "Yeah, and I'm the Easter Bunny. Listen, pal, Ms. Montgomery comes here all the time. If you're her bodyguard or driver, you can wait in the service area around back. Otherwise, move along."

"I'm not her bodyguard—"

"Then you're definitely not getting in." The first guard crossed his arms. "Now step aside before we make you step aside."

Caden clenched his jaw. Of course Madison had set this up. Invite him, then watch him get humiliated at the door. He could almost see her inside, laughing with Vivian about how the poor nobody couldn't even get into their club.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Sebastian.

"Caden?" Sebastian answered on the first ring. "How did it go with the family?"

"I'm married."

"You're WHAT?"

"Long story. Listen, I'm standing outside a place called Azure Lounge, and they won't let me in without a membership card. Do you know anything about this place?"

Sebastian laughed. "Azure Lounge? Caden, we own that club. It's part of the Marvelous Group hospitality division. You don't need a membership card—you're in the system as the owner. Just walk up to the entrance. The facial recognition will let you through automatically."

"You're serious?"

"Completely. The system should register you as a VIP—highest clearance level. Just walk in like you own the place. Because, well, you do."

Caden hung up and looked at the two guards, who were watching him with growing impatience.

"Sir, I'm going to ask you one more time to move—"

Caden walked past them, heading straight for the entrance doors.

"Hey!" The first guard lunged forward to grab his arm. "I said no card, no—"

The doors slid open with a soft whoosh.

Everyone froze.

The entrance system—a sophisticated setup with multiple sensors and scanners—had activated on its own, the blue lights shifting to gold as Caden stepped onto the threshold. Inside, he could see the opulent interior of the club: crystal chandeliers, leather booths, a bar that stretched the length of the room, and well-dressed patrons lounging in casual elegance.

The guards stared at him, then at each other, then back at him.

"What the—" the bearded guard stammered. "How did you—"

But Caden was already inside, the doors sliding shut behind him with a definitive click.

The first guard fumbled for his walkie-talkie, his hands shaking. "Control, this is front entrance. We have a situation. Some guy just walked past us and the system let him through. No card scan, no approval, nothing. It just... opened. Who is this guy?"

Static crackled, then a woman's voice responded. "Can you describe him?"

"Early twenties, dark hair, about six feet tall, wearing a gray jacket—"

"Stand by."

More static. The guards waited, exchanging nervous glances.

Finally, the voice came back, and it sounded shaken. "That's the owner. The actual owner of the building. Let him do whatever he wants and don't interfere. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear," the guard whispered, lowering his walkie-talkie.

They both stared at the closed doors, their faces pale.

"We just tried to throw out the owner," the bearded one said slowly.

"We're so fired," the other replied.