The silence that followed the stamp was almost ceremonial.
There were no trumpets. No applause. Just the simple weight of a signature transforming something intimate into a public structure.
Elizabeth closed the book delicately, as if closing an invisible chapter.
Damon was still staring at his own signature.
Damon Wykes.
It sounded different when it was written. Permanent.
She tilted her face toward him, analyzing his expression with a curious glint in her eyes.
"Having a mild or deep existential crisis?" she asked softly.
"Moderate," he replied. "I'm still processing the fact that I came in here as… me… and left officially married to the most dangerous woman in town."
"Only in town?" she raised an eyebrow.
He smiled slightly.
"Let's keep it modest for now."
Elizabeth seemed satisfied with the answer.
She then released his hand only to adjust her gloves with elegant movements and, as if speaking of something trivial, said:
"We need to do a few things now."
