Between Cassian Slytherin & Isolde [Last Name]
This agreement is entered into on [Date], between Cassian Slytherin, acting CEO of Slytherin Automotive, and Isolde [Last Name], an independent party. Both individuals acknowledge that this is a binding contract and agree to the following terms:
Article 1: The One Absolute Rule
If one party genuinely saves the other's life, all contractual terms become void, and a new agreement must be negotiated.
No exceptions. No appeals. If a life is spared, so is the contract.
Article 2: The Public Fallout Clause
If either party chooses to end the marriage, they must do so publicly and dramatically, ensuring media coverage.
A private separation is not permitted—scandal must be orchestrated to maintain public intrigue.
Article 3: The 48-Hour Rule
If either party disappears for more than 48 hours without prior notice, the remaining spouse has full control over all personal and business matters.
This includes financial decisions, corporate restructuring, and liquidation of assets.
Reclaiming lost assets due to absence is not permitted.
Article 4: The Leverage Clause
Each party is entitled to demand one piece of blackmail-worthy information from the other, no more than once per quarter.
This ensures mutual trust through shared destruction.
Article 5: The Financial Wager Clause
Every month, Cassian and Isolde must place a bet on a high-stakes event—corporate performance, media perception, social maneuvering.
The winner gains one personal favor, no questions asked.
Failure to comply with a won wager results in an automatic loss of the next month's bet and a financial penalty chosen by the winner.
Article 6: No Lies—But No Full Truths Either
Deception is forbidden, but full disclosure is not required.
Both parties must learn to read between the lines.
Article 7: No Traditional Wedding Bands in Public
Instead of rings, Cassian carries a pocket watch with Isolde's initials, and Isolde keeps her Magnum firearm as their marital symbol.
This ensures their marriage remains a statement, not a love story.
Article 8: Opposing Political Endorsements
To maintain intrigue, they must publicly support opposing policies or candidates, keeping alliances uncertain.
This prevents either party from appearing too dependent on the other.
Article 9: No Bedroom Restrictions—But No Obligation Either
Shared quarters are optional but never mandatory.
No forced intimacy, no avoidance games—if it happens, it happens.
Additional Provisions
Failure to comply with a clause results in a renegotiation penalty, favoring the wronged party.
Public image must be maintained, even during disputes.
All interactions are subject to legal arbitration in case of severe breach.
**
BREAKING NEWS: ISOLDE SLYTHERIN STUNS AT CHARITY GALA—OR DOES SHE?
Cassian had almost—almost—forgotten about her. Well, not really. More like he had shoved her existence into the mental drawer labeled deal with later.
The last time he'd seen Isolde, she had walked out of prison in an outfit that had personally offended his sense of style. He had cringed. Hard. And yet, after much deliberation (and a few stiff glasses of whiskey), he had sent her the dress.
And now—
"Boss! Your wife is trending all over the country!"
Cassian barely looked up as his PR team burst into his office, phones buzzing, headlines flooding in. Someone shoved a tablet toward him.
He flicked a wrist. "And?"
Then his gaze dropped to the screen.
Isolde.
Draped in liquid silver, her dress sculpted to perfection, hugging curves that could make the internet combust. The thigh-high slit? Criminal. The delicate fur wrap? Luxurious. And the way she held herself—like a queen who didn't care if she burned the court down.
For a moment, Cassian just stared.
His lips twitched. Just a little.
Then he scrolled.
And nearly facepalmed.
Trending Topics Right Now:
#IsoldeSlytherinAtTheGala – 200K tweets and counting
#GlamorousOrRidiculous? – Fashion critics are fighting for their lives in the comments
#MakeupGate – "Did she really turn a high-profile event into a beauty tutorial?!"
A new headline flashed:
"ISOLDE SLYTHERIN'S CHAOTIC GALA DEBUT—DID SHE REALLY GIVE A MAKEUP LESSON MID-EVENT?"
The attached photo?
Isolde, holding the chin of a dazed socialite, casually fixing her eyeliner like she was backstage at a fashion show—not at a million-dollar charity gala. Around her, cameras flashed, guests gawked, and the internet? Absolutely losing it.
StyleQueen: "I hate to admit it, but she ATE. The dress? The attitude? I'm sick."
ScandalSniper: "Isolde said 'I came, I slayed, I fixed her eyeliner, and I left.'"
GossipGuru: "Cassian Slytherin must be LOSING HIS MIND RN "
Cassian exhaled through his nose. His temple throbbed.
"…Isolde."
The PR team braced themselves. Maybe he'd rage. Maybe he'd issue a damage-control statement.
Instead, he let out a low chuckle. "She herself was a breaking news.
Let the headlines scream. Let the social media wars rage. Isolde was his choice.
---
Isolde Hadn't Planned to Do This in Such a Beautiful Dress…
But alas, some things simply couldn't be helped.
They had insulted her dress. And worse—her reputation.
A dress she liked. A dress that had turned heads the moment she entered. And these people? They had the audacity to call it awful.
Who the hell were they?
She wasn't even sure why she was so mad. It wasn't like she and Cassian had a real thing going on. Right?
Still, the irritation clung to her like perfume. With a slow, deliberate motion, she wiped her hands clean and turned her attention back to the trembling woman before her. She lifted her chin—gently, but firmly.
"Could someone please call the man who has such a beautiful wife to come collect her?"
The room hushed.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as men exchanged wary glances, unsure whether to intervene. Then—
"Isolde!"
A sharp voice sliced through the tension.
She turned slightly, utterly unbothered, as a furious, middle-aged man stormed toward her. Presumably, the woman's husband.
"Why don't you take that disgusting attitude elsewhere?" he spat, his face twisted in rage. "A disgraceful woman like you—" he snapped his fingers. "Guards!"
Several men shifted, ready to act—
But then—
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the grand ballroom.
Cassian Slytherin had arrived.
He didn't rush, didn't storm in with fury. No, Cassian moved with the kind of unshaken confidence that made men pause and reevaluate their decisions. His tailored black suit was crisp, effortless, and as he approached, the sharp click of his shoes against the marble floor felt deafening in the silence.
The crowd parted for him, drawn between curiosity and wariness. He stopped just a few feet from Isolde, his gaze flicking over her—pristine despite the chaos, her silver dress still a statement of defiance. Then, his eyes shifted to the furious man before her.
Cassian tilted his head, slow and unimpressed. "Are we calling security now?" His voice was a blade wrapped in velvet, amused but edged with warning. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you're the one making a scene over my wife."
The man hesitated.
Isolde, ever the dramatist, sighed theatrically. "Finally. I was starting to think my husband had abandoned me at my moment of need." She gave Cassian a pointed look, lips twitching with mischief.
Cassian barely reacted. "Apologies, darling," he murmured, voice laced with dry humor. "Traffic was atrocious."
The tension in the room thickened.
The socialite, still dazed from Isolde's earlier display, clung to her husband's arm, whispering something frantically. The man's anger wavered under the weight of Cassian's stare. Whatever insult he had ready died on his tongue.
Cassian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Now, since I assume no one here is foolish enough to escalate this further, I'd like to suggest we all return to enjoying the evening."
A challenge. A dismissal.
The man stiffened, jaw tight, but said nothing. One by one, the crowd took the cue, murmuring amongst themselves but wisely shifting focus elsewhere.
Isolde smirked, then turned to Cassian, voice just loud enough for those still listening. "See? This is why I married you."
Cassian arched a brow. "For my excellent timing?"
"For your talent in making men reconsider their life choices."
He chuckled, offering his arm. "Shall we?"
Isolde took it without hesitation, and together, they strolled out as if the entire night had gone exactly according to plan.
***
The drive was silent, save for the occasional murmur from Cassian—just enough for her to hear. "We'll get something to eat first," he had said, before adding, "Then we'll go home."
He didn't seem angry. Not exactly. But there was something in the way he looked at her—at the ruined dress—that made something uncomfortable twist in her stomach.
Isolde shouldn't have cared. If this were her past self, she wouldn't have.
And yet, a tiny bead of shame washed over her. Not because of the dress itself, but because of his reaction to it. The way his gaze had flickered over the fabric, not with amusement or even frustration, but with something closer to disappointment.
She loathed that she noticed it.
Even more, she loathed that she cared.
Her fingers smoothed over the tattered silk in her lap. She hadn't even planned to go tonight. But then... the dress.
The dress that he had sent.
Now, looking down at it, she felt like she had committed some great crime. A foolish, reckless mistake.
And worst of all?
She hated the thought that Cassian might be regretting her.
The car slid to a halt. Finally he exhaled and without looking at her in his usual calm way
"Next time Isolde...try not to make me wonder if I made the wrong choice