Louise looked down at the diamond on her finger, still blissful, still shocked.
She was married!
Her, Looney Louise Ellis, who had lost hopeless months of her life to being locked away in institutions, far from friends and far from home, who no man south of the Mason-Dixon would even take for a cup of coffee because crazy was contagious and she had plenty of it, was married.
Married to a man she'd only known for a handful of weeks, but with whom she had made a firm deal and an even firmer friendship.
Their marriage had been for the money, and any fool that went on about how money didn't matter or how money was the root of everything evil had obviously never had so much as a dollar to their name, because of course money mattered.
Money was champagne and couture and her yacht, her fast cars, her five-star hotels.
Money was power.
Money was freedom from her family and freedom from memories best left in the past.
Louise twisted the ring on her finger, still unused to its weight on her hand.
They hadn't needed rings, they'd only needed a marriage license, but Nolan had insisted. The man liked to shop almost as much as she did. They had gone to the city and he'd called ahead to the Tiffany & Co. on 5th Ave, encouraging her to choose a ring.
It had hit her, then.
They would be married. Truly married. Nolan Ross wouldn't just be her friend any longer, he would be her husband.
What a thought.
A husband, when just months ago she'd only had her hallucinations for company.
She chose a platinum band with a single diamond. It would be what she would have chosen if this, if any of it, had been real. If Nolan was her chosen man, if this wasn't just a scheme to exploit a loophole and gain her inheritance.
For a second, she let herself pretend.
He'd smiled slyly when she pointed it out to him, the stone bright behind the glass.
"This one, Nolan. It's just too perfect."
"Great choice, Louise. Your mother's going to hate it."
Nolan bought it for her like it was nothing, and bought a matching band for himself.
And yes, her mother had hated it.
She hated the ring, she hated Nolan and most of all, she'd hated that they had found a way to trick her.
Louise told herself that that had to be why she'd said such an awful, hateful thing - that she had caused her father's death. That's what Louise chose to believe, that's all she could face for now.
She promised herself that soon she would find out if her mother was telling the truth; a spiteful, hateful truth, but a truth nonetheless. Louise owed it to her father to be certain.
Not now, though. Not yet.
Not until her body had fully purged itself of the poison her family had been feeding her.
Not until she had gained her inheritance and the strength to face what had happened the day her dear daddy had died.
But now?
For now, she had a life to reclaim, and a husband to thank for that.
It was their wedding night.
Once her mother had crawled away back to her hole and his club had closed down for the night and they were finally, blessedly alone, they'd gone back to his house. Nolan had popped the champagne and while he was pouring glasses in the kitchen, she had slipped free of her dress in the living room, shimmying out of the peachy-pink satin, and bore herself to her hisband's eyes.
No blushing bride, was Louise Ellis.
Or, Louise Ellis-Ross, now.
Louise Ross?
They hadn't discussed it yet.
The man had seen her in less, her bathing suits left little to the imagination, but this was different. This was Louise in bridal La Perla, with Nolan, alone in his house. The invitation unspoken, her body freely offered, the offer to share his bed one born from thanks and friendship and the thrill of triumph and no small amount of attraction to the man on her part. He was handsome, she had thought so right from the minute she'd complimented him on his highlights.
The look in his eyes as he'd stepped closer to her was one she knew all too well. He was tempted by sex the way only men could be - to them it was power, it was conquering nations between the sheets and Louise knew her charms better than anyone: her rare natural coloring, her doe eyes and full petal lips, a tiny waist and high, heavy breasts. She was well aware of all that made her a prize to men, ever since she'd blossomed into womanhood and the boys at home had taken notice, and she just couldn't believe it when Nolan politely declined.
"Not tonight, honey. I have a headache."
He'd given her a flute of champagne, handed her dress back to her and then said no more about it.
Louise slipped back into her dress, and ever the doting husband, Nolan helped, zipping her up the back.
It made no sense to her.
Nolan was the kind who preferred men but he loved women too - he'd told her one night, just a few weeks ago, about some pretty little accountant who'd once worked for his company, back when he was Nolan Ross of Nolcorp, not Nolan Ross of nothing.
They clinked their glasses together and drank it, fine bubbly champagne in the late evening. Lana del Rey was crooning to them on the stereo and they swayed to the music, their first dance as husband and wife. He kissed Louise on the mouth, softly, so softly. He hadn't kissed her when they'd married at the courthouse, only hours before, but he kissed her now.
They could go to bed, he'd told her, but it wouldn't be right.
She should wait for a better man than her husband, he'd said, because he was still waiting for another woman to realize that he was waiting for her.
For all that Louise Ellis was now his wife, his true love was, and always had been, Emily Thorne.