Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 269: Platinum Rings

–Jane–

I jerked away the instant I saw the ring on his finger.

For one wild, sickening second, I thought I’d slept with a married man.

Then my eyes slid to my own hand.

Same band. Same cut. Same weight.

My stomach dropped.

I married him.

Last night.

In a blur of neon lights and alcohol and noise. I remembered him kneeling—one knee on the floor, people cheering, my laughter slurring into something that sounded like yes. A hard party. A stupid, careless night.

"Oh, fuck."

The words ripped out of me as I stumbled toward the bathroom. My knees hit the floor in front of the toilet and my body folded in on itself. Acid burned up my throat. Bitterness filled my mouth. I vomited until my ribs ached and my eyes watered.

Somehow, it helped.

"Babe," Logan’s voice floated in from somewhere behind me.

I retched again. A hand gathered my hair, firm but gentle, keeping it out of my face. Another hand rubbed slow circles on my back.

"I told you not to drink more," he murmured.

When there was nothing left, I shoved him away and dragged myself to the sink. I rinsed my mouth over and over, trying to wash out the taste—and the night.

A robe settled over my shoulders. Warm hands rubbed my arms.

My gaze snagged on the glass jewelry holder.

I pulled the rings off with shaking fingers.

"Let’s get a divorce."

"How about breakfast?" he replied calmly, already taking the rings from me. He wiped them with a soft cotton cloth, careful, reverent. "Let’s do that."

I stared at him.

"How did we get married? Is it real?"

"Of course." His tone was steady, sweet, infuriating. "Hey, I’ll give you mouth-to-mouth later."

He pulled me in and kissed my forehead.

I pushed him away and turned to the mirror.

Pale. Hollow-eyed. A wreck.

Yet my face was flawless after I passed out from that hard party. No smudged mascara. No black streaks beneath my eyes. Just bare, clean skin staring back at me in the mirror—too neat for a night I barely remembered.

On the counter, I noticed makeup remover, cotton pads, and a pack of wet wipes laid out with care.

He’d cleaned me up last night.

After I’d slurred, laughed, maybe cried. After I’d said yes to something I never planned. He’d undressed me, wiped the glitter and sweat and alcohol from my skin, made sure I didn’t wake up looking like a wreck.

The thought twisted in my chest—equal parts tenderness and unease.

He’d taken care of me.

And somewhere between those gentle motions, he’d made me his wife.

I grabbed my toothbrush.

He stayed there, unapologetically naked.

"Leave the bathroom," I said coldly. "I need a moment."

"Okay." He nodded and closed the door.

I brushed longer than necessary, staring at my reflection as foam slid down the sink. I had sworn I’d never get married. Never tie myself to anyone.

And here I was.

Married.

Because of one drunken night.

My chest tightened. This felt wrong. Too neat. Too convenient.

A setup.

Deanne and Caine. Their smiles. Their timing.

I soaked in warm water, letting steam cloud my thoughts, then stepped out in a robe, a towel wrapped around my hair.

They were already eating. A dining cart sat between them, silver lids keeping the food warm.

"Good morning," Deanne chirped.

I walked straight toward her.

"Traitors."

They widened their eyes, playing innocent. But I saw the stack of wedding-wrapped gifts.

"Oh! I wrapped those for you and Logan," Deanne giggled.

I rolled my eyes.

"Let’s unwrap them later!" Logan said brightly.

I turned away and headed back to the room. None of the clothes in the closet were mine. Every dress, every blouse—his choices.

I pulled one on, grabbed my jacket and wallet.

I needed something comfortable.

And I needed the marriage certificate.

Logan entered and closed the door.

"What are you looking for, babe?"

"Which name did you put on the certificate?" I asked.

"Your real name. My real name." He grinned. "Don’t worry, it’s in a safe place." He took my arms gently and shook me. "Hey. We’re married. But it doesn’t mean you’ll do all the wifey duties. Just don’t fool around with other men."

I scoffed.

"Me? You should worry about yourself."

"Breakfast first." He winked.

He guided me back. A plate and soup were already waiting. He pulled a chair for me.

I sipped warm water and swallowed my pills.

I couldn’t get pregnant.

"I was thinking we should go somewhere fun today," Deanne said.

"You’re pregnant," I replied. "The first trimester is dangerous."

"But it’s not that difficult for her," Caine argued.

I glared at him. Overdoing it could cost her everything.

Deanne sighed. "Fine. Today we rested. But tomorrow—we go out."

"Whatever."

Across from me, Logan ate quietly.

The platinum band on his finger caught the light.

He’d planned this.

I’d been drunk. I’d agreed to everything.

But this wasn’t permanent.

I would find the papers.

And I would end it.

–Livana–

It was a rare kind of joy—to witness my son weaving laughter into the air between Alyssa and Lore. The lawn had become a training ground, sunlight spilling over sweat and stubborn pride. Lore stood like a strict little general, whistle dangling from his lips, while Alyssa struggled through her push-ups, her arms trembling under the count.

She was already behind.

"That’s why you deserve this," Lore said with mock severity, lifting the pool noodle floaters and smacking her lightly at the back. "Form, Aly. Form."

Sky’s tiny feet thundered across the grass.

He grabbed the noodle with both hands and swung it at Lore with all the ferocity his small body could muster. His brows knitted together, lips trembling, finger wagging in protest.

"No! No!" he cried, wrapping himself around Alyssa as if his small arms could become armor.

Alyssa lost her balance as Sky shoved himself against her, toppling them both. She laughed and hugged him, kissing his temple.

Lore sighed theatrically and tossed the noodle aside. "Alright, hero."

He lifted Sky off her and set him aside, pointing back at Alyssa. "Again. From the top."

The whistle blew.

Then Lore pointed at Sky. "You too."

My son tried.

He planted his hands on the grass and bent his arms—but his strength betrayed him. He fell face-first into the lawn. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Damon’s laughter brushed against my ear as he sat beside me. "Your laughter," he murmured, "is still the best sound in the morning. Sometimes I wonder which I prefer more—your laugh or your moans."

I laughed harder and smacked his arm. He leaned in and kissed me, slow and warm.

"You’re happy," he said softly.

"I am." I laced my fingers with his and leaned against his arm.

On the grass, Sky lay beside Alyssa, both panting, faces flushed with effort.

"Get up!" Lore barked. "No food until we finish this!"

"Ha!" Sky sat up, clutching his stomach. "Mama!" He pointed at Lore. "Baddie!"

Lore crossed his arms. "See? Easy to train. Just threaten him with hunger."

Sky ran toward us, tripping twice before collapsing dramatically against my lap, sobbing as if wounded in battle. I stroked his hair.

"You can eat, my love," I whispered. "Soon."

The whistle shrieked again.

"Sky. Training time."

Lore was merciless.

Damon merely watched, unbothered. Sky was barely two, yet already discovering the art of performance.

"Alright," I said gently, wiping Sky’s tears. "Just a few more, okay?"

He needed the sun. He needed movement. Everyone spoiled him too much—too many sweets, too many treats. Even love could be excessive.

He gulped water and ran back, seized the noodle, and struck Lore again.

Lore clutched his chest and collapsed dramatically.

Sky burst into laughter.

Lore pointed at Alyssa. "Continue."

While Alyssa obeyed, Lore rolled in the grass with Sky, letting himself be defeated again and again.

Then, a distant hum cut through the morning.

A chopper.

This land was private. I hadn’t summoned anyone.

My fingers slid to my phone. I knew my men were already moving. I adjusted my wide-brimmed hat and tilted my umbrella to shield my face.

Damon rose.

"I can shoot it down."

"There’s no need," I said calmly.

He sighed and sat again. I squeezed his hand.

"By the way," I added lightly, "Jane and Logan just got married."

"What?" He frowned. "Logan tricked her. There’s no way she married him sober."

I laughed. "You know her well."

"I know them," he said. "But I barely know my own siblings."

"It’s time you do."

He kissed me again.

"Let’s make love."

I was about to let him carry me when I stopped him. "Let’s see if Chef Wally prepared breakfast."

We had invited Chef Wally, but he hadn’t seen me yet. He was busy in the kitchen with my mother and my mother-in-law—two queens ruling over spices and fire.

Sky ran toward us again, gulping from his bottle. I wiped his sweat and tucked a towel into his collar. He grabbed Alyssa’s bottle with both hands and nearly dragged it toward her.

"Your son is a charmer," I told Damon.

"Indeed." He grinned.

We walked inside. I removed my hat.

Something clattered.

Chef Wally stood frozen, a plastic salad container slipping from his hands.

"B-boss..."

Tears streamed down his face.

And in that moment, I realized—even power cannot shield people from awe.