The contract was simple: I just needed to stay in the house as his wife for the six-month duration of his election campaign, during which time I would be expected to perform my usual Luna duties, attend any public events or the like with him, and then remain doing so for three months after the campaign whether he won or lost.
Then he would divorce me, reject me, and I would be free. My father wouldn’t owe any money and there would be no repercussions.
I took the pen from his hand, my fingers briefly brushing his as I did, and signed my name at the bottom with a flourish. “Your turn,” I said, holding the contract and pen back out to him.”
A muscle in Alexander’s jaw ticked, but he signed his name next to mine.
“There. I’ll have it notarized in the morning.”
I nodded and
