“I’ll be brief, Sadie.” She folded her hands. “I’m offering you $2,000 a month.”

“For what?”

“Your name.”

I stared at her.

“My son, Jonah, is serving twelve years,” she said. “He needs a wife on paper. Visit twice a month, write letters, and show the court he still has family. Courts like roots. A wife gives him roots.”

“You want me to marry a prisoner?”

“I want you to make a practical decision.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“No. Entitled, careless, and foolish, yes. Dangerous, no.”

“Why me?”

Her smile was gentle enough to sting. “Because you understand responsibility.”

I should have left.

Instead, I pictured Owen pretending he wasn’t hungry after school.

“I want the first payment before the wedding,” I said.

Celeste smiled. “Of course.”

When I told Owen, he looked at me as though I were a stranger.

“You’re getting married?”

“On paper, that’s all.”