"Yes! Aren't you two just *thrilled*?" Helen Zeller said with a bright, almost mischievous smile, as if the stunned looks on Lucas and Claire's faces were precisely the reaction she'd hoped for. Her gaze flitted between them, her satisfaction unmistakable.
For a moment, silence lingered as the two exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring the same thought: *Thrilled? More like blindsided.*
"Mom," Lucas began, his tone measured but edged with disbelief, "isn't this a bit rushed? I mean, I haven't prepared anything—"
"You don't need to prepare *anything,* Lucas." Helen's voice was firm, her expression unwavering. "Your father and I have already taken care of all the arrangements. The chapel is booked, the paperwork is ready, and the officiant is scheduled. All you need to do is show up tomorrow." She leaned back in her chair, as though the matter were entirely settled.
Lucas stared at her, his jaw tightening. Her determination was relentless. He could already tell she wasn't about to let Claire back out—or allow him any space to reconsider. She had orchestrated this entire situation to a T, and any resistance would be futile.
*Wait a minute,* Lucas thought with growing unease, *this is basically a forced marriage.* The realization sank in, heavy but not entirely unexpected. Deep down, he had sensed his mother had been building toward something like this from the moment Claire moved in with them.
Helen turned her attention to Claire, her tone softening but still carrying the weight of expectation. "Claire, what do you think? Am I rushing things too much?"
Claire blinked, caught off guard by the question. Her lips parted, but for a moment, no words came out. Then, she reached for her glass of water, the motion deliberate, buying herself a moment to think. Her hands trembled faintly, the glass almost slipping from her grip. She hoped Helen wouldn't notice, but her shoulders betrayed her, quivering ever so slightly under the intensity of Lucas's gaze.
"I… don't mind," Claire said finally, her voice quiet yet steady enough to be convincing. Inside, her heart raced. She wasn't sure if it was fear, resignation, or something else entirely. She had known from the start that this arrangement came with strings attached—strings that now felt more like chains.
Lucas studied her intently, his green eyes narrowing slightly. *Was she really okay with this?* She looked terrified. Her body language screamed discomfort, her fingers clenching the glass so tightly that her knuckles turned white. For reasons he couldn't quite articulate, the sight made his chest tighten. Was it the situation itself that was getting to her? Or was she simply too polite—or too afraid—to voice her objections?
"Well, then," Helen said with a finality that left no room for argument, "if Claire has no objections, it's settled. Lucas, you—"
"Hold on." Lucas's voice cut through the room, sharp and commanding. He rose to his feet, his usually relaxed demeanor replaced by something colder, more resolute. "I have some conditions."
Helen frowned, her brows knitting together. "Conditions? What conditions, Lucas?"
Claire looked up at him, startled by his sudden shift in tone. His face was unreadable, but there was a tension in his jaw that hadn't been there moments ago. She couldn't tell if he was about to back out or set terms that would make the situation even more impossible.
Lucas took a deep breath, locking eyes with his mother. "I'll marry her tomorrow," he said evenly, "but there won't be a wedding."
Helen blinked. "No wedding? What are you saying—no guests?"
"Exactly. No guests. I don't want this marriage made public. Other than the four of us, no one else needs to know." His tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
Helen's eyes widened. "The four of us? You mean you don't even plan to tell Bella?"
At the mention of his adopted sister, Lucas's jaw tightened. Helen pressed on, her voice tinged with surprise. "She's your favorite, Lucas. You've always been so close to her. Bella would—"
"Why should I tell her?" Lucas interrupted, his voice clipped. "She's not here, is she? She left for the States two months ago without so much as an explanation. This doesn't concern her." His words came out harsher than he intended, but he didn't soften them. There was no point.
Helen looked taken aback. "But Bella—"
"It doesn't matter," Lucas said, cutting her off again. "This isn't a celebration, Mom. If you agree to my terms, Claire and I will register the marriage tomorrow. If not…" He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
Helen's lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, the room fell silent again, the tension palpable. Lucas glanced at Claire, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. She sat frozen, her fingers still clutching the glass as though it were her lifeline.
*Was she upset?* he wondered. *Disappointed, maybe, by the lack of a wedding? Or was she quietly protesting the whole situation, wishing for someone—anyone—to step in and stop it?*
Claire's voice broke the silence, soft but clear. "It's fine," she said, lowering the glass to the coffee table. She couldn't look at him, her gaze fixed on her hands. "No wedding… is fine."
Her words hung in the air, and Lucas felt a strange pang in his chest, one he couldn't quite place. He nodded stiffly, turning back to his mother. "There you have it. We'll go through with it, but on my terms."
Helen sighed, a mix of exasperation and reluctant acceptance crossing her features. "Fine," she said at last. "But don't come crying to me when Bella finds out and throws a fit."
Lucas shrugged, brushing off the comment. He turned to leave, his long strides carrying him toward the door. "Good night," he muttered, not waiting for a response.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Claire exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping. Helen gave her a reassuring pat on the knee before standing. "Get some rest, dear. Tomorrow's a big day."
Claire nodded wordlessly, watching as Helen disappeared down the hall. Alone in the dimly lit room, she sat back against the sofa, her thoughts swirling. Tomorrow, everything would change—and she wasn't sure if she was ready.