The ballroom, moments ago buzzing with the shock of Severin’s revelation, plunged into an astonished hush. Every eye, from Chief Justice Orrin Delano to the most junior clerk, swiveled to Luzia. Her confident smile faltered. The chill of the air conditioning suddenly felt like a physical blow. “Remarried?” Cettia Floris crowed, cutting through the murmurs. She climbed to her feet, eyes bright with malice. “Bravio, you genius! She’s still single! The Vencallo buyout is stalled! You’re saved!” Bravio, emboldened by Cettia’s sudden cheer, puffed out his chest, the tremor in his hands briefly forgotten. “That’s right! Until she finds another spouse, Galvanix Innovations remains a sovereign entity. This buyout is void!” Hours. She had mere hours until midnight ended the fiscal quarter. Her family’s legacy, her entire future, hung by a thread, contingent on a forgotten clause designed to protect the Vencallo line from gold diggers. The irony was a bitter taste in her mouth. She had finally outmaneuvered Bravio, only to be snared by her own past, a ghost from the woman she used to be. Her gaze swept across the faces of the assembled elite, a sea of calculating gazes. No one in this room would marry her in a matter of hours, let alone for a transactional purpose. Not even for the Vencallo fortunes. Not without months of negotiation, due diligence, and social posturing. This was a metropolis where a marriage certificate was an equity alliance, not an impulse. Despair, cold and sharp, threatened to claw its way back into her heart. She had come so far, fought so hard. Was this truly the end? To be thwarted by a dusty piece of paper from her doormat days? Severin Galdoni took a slow, deliberate step forward, watching his nephew flounder. His focus locked on Luzia, steady and unreadable. He reached out, taking her hand. His touch was warm, solid, anchoring her in the swirling chaos. He squeezed gently, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes. Then, in a move that silenced the already hushed ballroom completely, Severin Galdoni lowered himself to one knee. Right there, amidst the glittering chandeliers and the gasps of Mercanzia’s most powerful families, he knelt before Luzia Vencallo. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Cettia snapped her mouth shut, her heels faltering on the polished marble. Severin kept his eyes pinned to hers. “Luzia Vencallo,” he began, his baritone carrying across the marble columns, “for years, I have watched you. From the quiet forbearance you once endured, to the brilliant legal mind you now deploy. You are the architect of your own victory, the rightful heir to an empire, and the only woman who could make this city truly interesting.” A blush crept up Luzia’s neck, warring with the shock that rendered her immobile. This wasn’t just a proposal of convenience; there was an raw, undeniable earnestness in his tone, a depth she hadn’t dared to acknowledge. “This isn’t just about a hostile takeover,” Severin continued, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand. “It’s about reclaiming what’s yours. It’s about securing the future you deserve. And selfishly, it’s about securing a future where I can stand by your side, admiring the pastries you bake for people who insult you, and marveling at the way you dismantle arrogant executives with a smile.” He pulled a small, velvet box from his inner jacket pocket. It wasn’t a Galdoni heirloom, but a simple, elegant platinum band, its single, brilliant-cut diamond catching the light. “Luzia Vencallo, will you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? A marriage of undeniable passion, extreme corporate convenience, and a lifetime of watching you conquer the world?” Before Luzia could even process the question, a new scent permeated the opulent air: a distinct, pungent aroma of sulfur and ripe fruit. A low, rumbling groan emanated from near the coat check, followed by the distinctive waddle of something large and furry. Chumbo, Luzia’s beloved Marmotillo, emerged from behind a potted palm, looking thoroughly indignant. He had evidently escaped the coat check, perhaps by sheer force of will or the strategic deployment of his potent digestive gases. His beady eyes, normally fixated on finding snacks, immediately locked onto Bravio Galdoni. With a furious squeak, Chumbo released a particularly noxious cloud of flatulence that wafted directly towards Bravio, who recoiled with a theatrical gag. Then, with a proud, almost regal waddle, Chumbo trotted towards Severin’s outstretched hand. Around his thick, scaly neck, secured with a piece of twine, hung a tarnished, slightly chewed cigar band. It was obviously a makeshift ring, undoubtedly pilfered from some discarded refuse and presented with the solemnity of a true noble. Severin, ever the pragmatist with a hidden soft spot for the absurd, took the cigar band with a faint smile, holding it up as if it were the most precious jewel. “And it appears we have a ring bearer, and a ring,” he declared, his gaze still fixed on Luzia. “A fitting tribute to the unique chaos you bring to my life.” Luzia’s heart swelled, a potent mix of astonishment, relief, and a warmth she hadn’t felt in years. This wasn't just Severin saving her; this was Severin, in his own terrifying, powerful way, baring a piece of his soul. It was ridiculous, spontaneous, and utterly, perfectly *them*. “Yes,” she breathed, the word a soft exhalation of all her fears and hopes. “Yes, Severin, I will.” Severin rose and slipped the platinum band onto her finger, followed by the cigar wrapper, which hung loosely against her knuckle. He then turned to the chief jurist, who observed the spectacle with dry amusement. “Justice Delano,” Severin stated, voice ringing with authority. “You heard her answer. You hold full registry authority. The fiscal quarter ends at midnight. Officiate the union now.” Delano adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles, a thin grin splitting his weathered face. “Under the expedited clauses of our commercial code, an on-site registry holds full force given mutual consent. Do you, Severin Galdoni, take Luzia Vencallo to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” Severin affirmed, his grip on Luzia’s hand firm. “And do you, Luzia Vencallo, take Severin Galdoni to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do,” Luzia replied, her voice steady, a new resolve hardening her gaze. “Then by the municipal charter, I pronounce you lawfully wed,” Delano announced. “You may execute the final transfer, Madam Galdoni-Vencallo.” Bravio Galdoni, his face a mask of utter horror, finally found his voice. He lunged forward, pushing past the stunned Cettia, his eyes wide with a desperate, frantic terror. “You can’t do this!” he shrieked, voice cracking against the gilded molding. “You can’t! I’m the one you belong with!” Luzia, her hand already reaching for the pen to sign the dissolution papers of Galvanix Innovations, paused. Her new wedding ring glinted under the chandelier light. She looked at Bravio, her expression calm, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy. She picked up the pen, her signature flowing across the document, sealing his fate. Then, with a devastatingly sweet smile, Luzia leaned in and whispered her lethal reply.

Objection and Affection