Three days later, Avery stood in front of the Rathore Industries building, watching news vans pack up their equipment.
The story had exploded. "Billionaire Heir Arrested for Murder" was on every channel. Arjun's face was plastered across newspapers, looking nothing like the charming businessman he'd pretended to be.
"Ready?" Rohan asked, appearing beside her with two cups of coffee.
"As I'll ever be." Avery took the cup gratefully. "Your lawyer said the board meeting is starting in ten minutes?"
"Yes. Final vote on the inheritance. Though with Arjun in jail, it should be straightforward." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You don't have to come, you know. This is just a formality."
"I want to be there. We're in this together, remember?"
Something flickered across Rohan's face—an emotion Avery couldn't quite read. "About that. We need to talk. After the meeting."
Avery's stomach dropped. "'We need to talk' is never good."
"It's not bad. Just... important." He checked his watch. "Come on. Let's get this over with."
The boardroom was exactly as intimidating as Avery remembered. Fifteen board members sat around a massive mahogany table. Lawyers lined the walls. Everything was formal, cold, corporate.
"Mr. Rathore," the chairman, Mr. Patterson, began. "Given recent events, this vote should be simple. However, there are some concerns that need to be addressed."
"Concerns?" Rohan's voice was calm but Avery could see his jaw tighten.
"Your marriage." Mrs. Liu spoke up, her voice gentle but firm. "There are questions about its... authenticity. The timeline. The circumstances. Some board members worry that it was entered into solely to fulfill the will's requirements."
"My marriage is nobody's business but mine and my wife's," Rohan said coldly.
"Actually," Victoria Chen stood up from the back of the room where she'd been sitting, "it's very much the board's business. I have evidence that suggests this marriage was a contractual arrangement. A business transaction."
She slid a folder across the table.
Avery's heart stopped. How did she—
"These are bank records showing a transfer of seventy-five million dollars from Rohan Rathore to Avery Mitchell, dated three days after their marriage. That's not a gift. That's a payment."
The room erupted in murmurs.
"This proves nothing," Rohan said, but Avery could hear the edge in his voice.
"It proves that your marriage was bought and paid for. Which means it doesn't fulfill your grandfather's wishes. He wanted you to find love, to settle down with a real partner. Not purchase a temporary wife."
"That's enough," Rohan's voice turned to ice. "My relationship with my wife—"
"Is fake." Victoria looked triumphant. "Admit it, Mr. Rathore. This whole thing was a sham. Which means the inheritance should go to the next eligible heir. Which, with Arjun incarcerated, would be your cousin Priya Sharma. Anjali's sister."
Avery's head snapped up. "Priya?"
"Yes. She's technically family through her mother's side. And she's been quite helpful in providing us with information about your... arrangement." Victoria smiled coldly. "She's waiting outside if you'd like to call her in."
Rohan looked like he'd been punched. "Priya did this?"
The door opened and Priya walked in, wearing a black suit, her expression unreadable.
"Hello, Rohan," she said quietly.
"You're working with them?" Rohan asked, disbelief in his voice. "After everything—after we got justice for Anjali—"
"Justice?" Priya's voice cracked. "Arjun going to prison doesn't bring my sister back. It doesn't fix what your family did to mine. And now I find out you did the exact same thing to another woman? You bought yourself a wife like she was a piece of property?"
"That's not what happened," Avery said, standing up. "Yes, we started with a contract. Yes, there was money involved. But it became real. What Rohan and I have is real."
"Convenient," Victoria said. "Now that the money's been paid and the inheritance is on the line, suddenly it's love?"
"It is love!" Avery's voice rose. "I love him. And he loves me. And I don't care if you believe it or not because I know it's true."
The room fell silent.
Rohan was staring at her, his eyes wide.
"You love me?" he asked quietly, like they were the only two people in the room.
"Of course I do, you idiot," Avery said, tears starting to form. "Why do you think I kept risking my life for you? Why do you think I stayed after the bakery burned down? Why do you think I came to this stupid board meeting?"
"The seventy-five million dollars might have something to do with it," Victoria said snidely.
"I don't want his money!" Avery whirled on her. "I never wanted his money! I wanted him! And if this board is so concerned about authenticity, then let me be crystal clear: I would marry Rohan Rathore a hundred times over, with or without a penny to his name. Because he's kind. He's brave. He makes me laugh. He makes amazing chai. And he's the best thing that ever accidentally happened to me in Vegas."
She turned back to Rohan, who looked stunned.
"So there. That's your authenticity. Witnessed by fifteen board members and way too many lawyers. I love you. Sue me."
The room was dead silent.
Then Meera, who'd been sitting quietly in the corner, started clapping. Slowly, others joined in. Mr. Patterson. Mrs. Liu. Dr. Reeves. Even some of the lawyers.
Only Victoria and Priya remained unmoved.
"That was quite a performance," Victoria said. "But it doesn't change the facts. The marriage started as a contract—"
"And became real," Mr. Patterson interrupted. "I've been on this board for thirty years. I've seen plenty of marriages that started for the wrong reasons and became genuine. I've also seen marriages that started with love and became hollow. The question isn't how it started. It's where it is now."
"I agree," Mrs. Liu said. "I've watched Rohan and Avery together. That's not acting. That's real partnership. Real respect. Real love."
"So we're just going to ignore the money?" Victoria demanded.
"The money was part of the original agreement," Rohan finally spoke, his voice steady. "But Avery never cashed the check. It's been sitting in her account, untouched, for almost six months."
Victoria's face fell. "What?"
"Show them," Rohan said to his lawyer.
The lawyer pulled up bank records on the screen. There it was—seventy-five million dollars, deposited and never withdrawn. Not a single dollar spent.
"I forgot about it," Avery admitted quietly. "After everything that happened—the kidnapping, the fires, falling in love—money was the last thing on my mind."
Priya was staring at the screen, her expression crumbling. "You really don't care about the money."
"I never did."
Priya sat down heavily, looking lost. "My sister... Anjali loved Rohan because of who he was, not what he had. I thought—I thought you were different. I thought you were like Arjun, using him. But you're like Anjali."
Tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was angry and hurt and I wanted someone to blame and I—" She covered her face with her hands, sobbing.
Rohan walked over to her and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Anjali would forgive you. So do I."
Victoria looked around the room, realizing she'd lost. "This is ridiculous. I'm filing a formal complaint—"
"You're fired," Rohan said calmly. "Security will escort you out. And Victoria? If you work with Arjun's lawyers to help his case, I will prosecute you for conspiracy. Are we clear?"
Victoria's face turned red, but she said nothing as security led her away.
Mr. Patterson cleared his throat. "Shall we vote? All in favor of Rohan Rathore as CEO and primary heir?"
Every hand went up. Even Priya's.
"Unanimous. Congratulations, Mr. Rathore." Mr. Patterson smiled. "Now get out of here and take your wife home. You both look exhausted."
Outside the building, Rohan and Avery stood in the fading sunlight.
"So," Avery said. "You're officially a billionaire CEO now. How does it feel?"
"Terrifying. Overwhelming. Right." He turned to her. "Earlier, you said you loved me."
"I did. In front of fifteen witnesses and several lawyers. Pretty official."
"And you meant it?"
"Every word."
Rohan took both her hands. "The six months are up in two days. Our contract is fulfilled. You're free to go. To take the money and start fresh. Build ten bakeries if you want. Travel the world. Whatever you want."
Avery's heart clenched. "Is that what you want?"
"No." His voice was rough with emotion. "What I want is for you to stay. Not because of a contract. Not because of money or threats or board meetings. But because you choose to. Because you want this—us—as much as I do."
"I do want this," Avery whispered. "I want you."
"Then marry me. Again. For real this time. A proper wedding with our friends and family. Vows we actually remember making. A marriage that's ours, not contractual."
"Rohan Rathore, are you proposing to your own wife?"
"I am. So what do you say, Avery Mitchell Rathore? Will you marry me again?"
Avery laughed through tears. "Yes. A thousand times yes."
He kissed her as the sun set behind them, and for the first time in six months, everything felt simple.
They were just two people who loved each other.
Everything else was just details.