Waylon Marshall held onto Vivian's wrist with an unbreakable grip, leaving no room for resistance.

The instant she realized there was no way out, Vivian went still. She straightened her posture, lifted her chin, and looked directly at him without hesitation. "Let go of me. I'm trying to help her."

The crowd's hushed voices blended into the strained atmosphere.

"I warned you not to interfere when strangers collapse in public. It's always a trap, usually some kind of scam. Honestly, this is on you," someone said under their breath.

One of Waylon's guards shot a cold look at the man, and the comment died on the spot.

Sensing the situation turning dangerous, the bystanders wasted no time backing away, unwilling to get involved.

Waylon kept his eyes on Vivian, his gaze sharp with doubt.

There was nothing striking about her appearance. Her face was bare, her white shirt looked worn at the edges, and her jeans had faded to a dull shade. A canvas bag rested against her side, clearly used for far too long.

His attention shifted from the vial in her hand back to her face. She remained composed, her expression steady and impossible to read.

"You'd better hope nothing's happened to my grandmother. If she's hurt, I won't—"

His words cut off before he could finish. The elderly woman in his arms began to stir, and the threat never made it past his lips.

Matilda Marshall slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, her vision unfocused at first, then gradually settled on Waylon. Confusion filled her expression. "Waylon? Why are you here?"

The tension in Waylon's body eased at once. He let go of Vivian without thinking and carefully helped Matilda sit up. "Grandma, you fainted earlier. Do you feel alright?"

Matilda didn't respond to him. Instead, her attention shifted to Vivian, and she stared at her with unexpected intensity. "My granddaughter-in-law was the one who saved me."

Silence fell, heavy and stunned.

Waylon recovered first, a flicker of realization passing through his eyes. Vivian had truly saved her.

"She's not your granddaughter-in-law. Let's head home first," he explained.

Matilda pulled her hand away from him with surprising strength. "Didn't you two go to the courthouse? You said you were going to register your marriage. Why are you still here? Did you argue?"

Vivian paused, then understanding clicked into place. This was no simple confusion. It matched the signs of dementia caused by long-term toxin exposure. "Ma'am, I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

Waylon's expression darkened further. He tried again, softening his tone as much as he could. "Grandma, your memory's mixing things up. She isn't—"

"I want proof of the marriage. Show me the certificate. Where is it?" Matilda cut in, completely ignoring everything they said.

Vivian checked the time on her phone and felt a flicker of urgency. "She's fine now, so I really need to leave."

Before she could step away, Matilda caught her hand and held on tight, her grip far stronger than expected. "You're not leaving. Not until I see that certificate. If you don't show it to me, I'll... I'll stop eating."

Waylon let out a quiet breath and pressed his fingers against his temple. When his grandmother made up her mind, there was no point trying to reason with her.

At that moment, Vivian's phone started ringing. Arthur's name appeared on the screen. With one hand still held captive, she awkwardly answered using the other.

"I'm really sorry, Arthur. Something urgent came up. Yes, we'll have to move it. I'll call you later," she said.

The call ended, and when Vivian looked up, Matilda was smiling at her, her expression filled with satisfaction. "Don't stay mad at Waylon. I'll make him give you the Marshall Group as a present. Would that make you happy?"

Marshall Group?

A question immediately formed in Vivian's mind. Was this man actually tied to that company?

Before she could voice it, Matilda turned to Waylon again. "Why are you still standing there? Take her and go make your marriage official now. And if you upset her again, don't come back home!"

Waylon's face tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin, but he still gave in. "Fine," he responded through clenched teeth.

Only then did Matilda let go of Vivian's hand. She calmly took a seat on the courthouse steps, looking completely at ease. "I'll stay here and wait."

With no other option left, Waylon guided Vivian a few steps away. "About earlier... I misjudged you."

The apology he should have said never came out.

"As you can tell," he continued. "I need you to register a marriage with me. Just to keep my grandmother satisfied."

Vivian almost refused on instinct, but something held her back. "What exactly is your relationship with the Marshall Group?"

"I run it. I'm Waylon Marshall," he replied without hesitation.

Vivian's eyes widened a little. So he was the head of Marshall Group, the man who had a reputation for being ruthless and decisive in the business world.

Waylon continued, "We'll get divorced after a month. In return, you can name one condition, and I'll fulfill it."

He lifted his wrist and checked the time, his movements precise and detached. "You've got two minutes. Make your choice."

The refusal Vivian had been ready to voice never made it out.

The NR data she had been chasing for her research was locked within Marshall Group's vaults. She couldn't get it anywhere else.

It would only last a month. She could handle that.

A small, resolute smile formed on her lips. "Alright. I'll do it."

They completed the prenuptial agreement, and once the formalities were done, they walked out.

It wasn't until Matilda personally confirmed the document that she finally agreed to leave her spot on the courthouse steps. "Perfect! Come along with me, my dear granddaughter-in-law."

Waylon pressed his fingers against his temple as a dull ache started to form. Today, it was a marriage. He didn't want to think about what she would ask for next.

As Vivian helped Matilda settle into the car, Leo Beckett—Waylon's assistant—stepped forward at last.

Leo found it hard to believe what he was seeing. The man who had built Marshall Group into an industry giant in just three years—the most influential figure in Ekaville—was utterly helpless when it came to his grandmother.

He cleared his throat. "Mr. Marshall, I've verified the information. The Physician King will show up again in three days."

A sharp glint appeared in Waylon's eyes. "Prepare the gift. Reach out to him right away. He's the only one who can remove the toxin from my grandmother's body."