All through the night, the city of Mageford continued to fly toward Dion’s territory. Everyone spent the night at Olga’s mansion, except Dion and Cleo. Accompanied by Johan, they remained in the command bridge in the mansion’s basement, watching their progress.
"This is hard to believe... Which means when we first met at the graveyard, when you said you were waiting for the dark cult to show up and had your undead dress in their clothes, you were actually waiting for us all along, weren’t you?" Cleo confronted him.
"Oh... um... sorry, Cleo," Johan offered.
"Your reaction says it all. You really are ruthless. Why couldn’t you just tell us straight up instead of making up that whole story about no exit from the underground mine?" Cleo asked.
Johan offered no defense, keeping his head bowed, ready to take the full brunt of Cleo’s anger. Dion placed a hand on Cleo’s shoulder.
"Let it go. He was just doing his job. Besides, shouldn’t you be happy that your search for legends and myths actually paid off?" Dion reasoned.
"Ugh... I suppose. I should probably be thanking him instead of getting angry. And as for you," Cleo turned her glare directly onto Dion.
"Uh... why me?" Dion asked.
Cleo didn’t say a word, just staring intently at Dion. Reading the room and having already heard a few things from Astrid, Johan took a step back.
"Oh... sorry, I’ll take my leave. Please, feel free to talk things over in private... But please, don’t split up because of me. I am truly sorry, I’ll be going now," Johan said, practically sprinting out of the room like he was being chased by a monster.
Dion looked confused as Johan bolted and shut the door behind him. He turned back to Cleo.
"What was he even talking about? Split up over what?" Dion asked, pointing at the door.
"Grrr... never mind that. Why haven’t you told me everything all this time?" Cleo demanded.
"Hey, I did tell you! My power is weird, and I explained everything before. Remember when we first met and you backed me into a corner until I opened my mouth, and then you tried to recruit me as a royal mage? Do you remember that?" Dion argued.
Cleo paused, searching her memory. She glanced at Dion’s face, turned away for a moment, and then turned back to look at him again.
"I remember... What you said back then... was it all true? That you borrow power from an ancient era... or whatever it was?" Cleo asked.
"Of course it’s true! That’s why the real me, when I’m just regular Dion, I’m weak. Without my personas, I can’t do anything," Dion answered.
"Ugh... I’ve seen what you can do. From dropping a meteor on a hydra, blasting through a monster stampede along with a whole mountain, breaking Gemmeth’s seal, to almost leveling the capital of Minatheras... Not to mention crafting all those artifacts back in our domain and clearing a path through the forest with a single sword slash... All of that is real. Honestly... I didn’t believe a word you said back then. But now... maybe I’m finally starting to see," Cleo said.
"Finally... someone actually believes my words," Dion thought to himself, thoroughly relieved.
"I believe in you more than what you’ve shown us... I believe you have a connection to Xandor... Did you come from the past... or are you actually immortal? Who are you, really?" Cleo asked, raising the same old question.
"Ugh... how did she arrive at that conclusion? Give me a break," Dion thought to himself. "I’m just me. I’m only 22 years old, your goofy younger brother, and you’re my gorgeous 24-year-old big sister," Dion replied aloud.
"Grrr... don’t bring up my age! Fine, look, whatever happens, I’m staying with you. So... we’re getting married right now," Cleo declared loudly.
Everyone on the bridge instantly turned toward the two standing in front of the captain’s chair. Those who had been trying not to eavesdrop were now staring with wide grins, having clearly caught every single word. As for Dion, his brain felt like it had short-circuited. His mind froze, and his heart skipped a beat. He stared at Cleo’s beautiful, cold, and demanding face right in front of him. With his brain grinding to a halt, his mind automatically rewound back to his past life when he still ran his own company.
***
A man in a sharp business suit walked past employees working in the office. Every eye tracked the manila folder from a law firm he carried in his hands.
"What’s going on? Why is a process server here?" a female employee whispered.
"No idea, must be bad news," the employee sitting beside her replied.
The man walked toward the CEO’s office at the end of the hallway. Curious employees peeked from around corners as he approached the door. "Click." The man opened the door without knocking, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. Curious staff edged closer to the office door.
Inside, the process server walked straight up to a man around 40 years old sitting behind a desk, signing documents.
"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Marcus," the man said.
Marcus raised his head to look at the neatly dressed man, who handed him the manila folder without any preamble.
"Huh, what’s this?" Marcus asked, snatching the folder.
"You’ve been served," the man replied.
"What?" Marcus asked, struck like lightning out of a clear sky.
"Have a good day, sir," the server turned and left, his job finished.
Without delay, Marcus pulled six pages out of the folder and began reading. His face drained of color as the very first page revealed a divorce petition from his wife, Tessa, citing abandonment and abuse. The second page outlined an asset division split strictly 50-50, as there was no prenup. The third page requested full custody of their three children for his wife.
Marcus pulled out his smartphone and dialed his wife. It went straight to voicemail; she didn’t pick up. He tried again with the same result, finally leaving a voice message.
"What is the meaning of this, Tessa... Why are you suddenly divorcing me? What is the actual reason... Why are you claiming abandonment and abuse?" Marcus demanded into the voicemail.
He put his phone down, an overwhelming headache washing over him. His work ground to a halt, and he didn’t even notice several employees peeking through his office window. "Toss." He threw the folder onto his desk, burying his face in his hands as he clawed at his hair. Suddenly, "Ding!" A message came through. He opened it, his eyes widening as he read the text. His lips trembled and his jaw tightened. Pure, white-hot rage flared up inside him, making him want to tear Tessa to pieces.
The message wasn’t text, it was a scanned paternity test. For all three children, his probability was listed at 0.00%. On the following page, their probability was listed at 99.99% for another man: James Moore, his best friend and co-owner of the company. Marcus marched straight out of his office into the room next door, entering without knocking to face the handsome man in an expensive suit and a Rolex. "Blam!" Marcus slammed the folder onto James’s desk alongside his smartphone screen. James glanced at the phone, then looked up at Marcus with a triumphant smirk.
"Sorry, Marcus. It just happened," James said.
"Since when?" Marcus asked quietly.
"Hmm... well, I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself," James replied with a smile.
Marcus desperately wanted to throw the man in front of him out the window, but sheer sanity held him back. In the end, he walked away and went through a process that drained every bit of his wealth.
***
Snapping back to the present, Dion’s memories faded away as he stared back at Cleo’s dead serious face.
"Married?" Dion asked.
"Yes... I’m 24 years old, I need to start a family. Besides, I don’t want to be away from you, and I already said it out loud, so let’s get married," Cleo answered.
"Huh... didn’t you just say not to bring up your age?" Dion asked.
"Aaargh... I don’t care!" Cleo snapped.
Without giving Dion a second to breathe, Cleo stepped forward and kissed him full on the mouth, wiping out every thought in his head until his eyes rolled back. When she finally pulled away, she shoved Dion slightly.
"I’m serious," Cleo said.
Dion studied Cleo’s face. This time, images of Tessa and child support demands didn’t overlap on Cleo’s face like they had with Luna before. Moreover, he could see how deeply serious Cleo was, her cold face was flushed red, and tears were welling up in her eyes. "Sigh." Dion let out a heavy breath.
"Ugh... fine... fine... but under one condition," Dion said, raising both hands.
"Fine... what’s the condition?" Cleo asked.
"We draw up a prenup first... I am not going through a repeat of what happened before," Dion said, clearly still carrying baggage from his past life as Marcus.
Silence fell over the room, leaving everyone watching completely bewildered. Cleo, equally confused by Dion’s statement and only registering the last part, grabbed Dion by his collar and pulled him in close to her face.
"YOU’VE BEEN MARRIED BEFORE?!"
"No... no... you’ve got it wrong! Ugh, never mind. Look, I’ll draft a document, you sign it, and then we get married... deal?" Dion said quickly.
"Deal," Cleo replied.
She pulled Dion in once more and kissed him. This time, Dion kissed her back, wrapping his arms around Cleo’s waist. Everyone inside the command bridge burst into applause to celebrate the moment.
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