The chapel wasn’t supposed to be real. Just another prop in Operation Golden Chain—fake priest, fake vows, fake rings. But when the gunfire erupted outside and the backup team vanished, Ethan didn’t hesitate. He slid the platinum band onto my finger, whispered ‘I do’ like he meant it, and pulled me through the service exit as bullets shattered the stained glass.\n\nNow we’re in the back of a black sedan speeding toward his penthouse, my police-issue vest still under a borrowed lace dress. My radio’s dead. Command isn’t answering. And Ethan—smug, infuriating, unfairly handsome Ethan—is smirking like this was part of the plan.\n\n‘Relax, Clare,’ he says, adjusting his cufflinks. ‘Six months of marriage. Think of it as immersive training.’\n\nMy fists clench. ‘This wasn’t authorized.’\n\n‘It is now. Unless you want every crime family in the city knowing you’re a cop?’\n\nHe has a point. But staying means pretending to love a man I don’t know. Leaving means blowing the biggest case of my career—and possibly dying in the process.