"Yes, Mr. Covington, this marriage certificate is completely genuine," the supervisor confirmed, tapping his tablet screen. "It was registered six months ago in our system."
Percival's face hardened. "That's impossible."
Lyra stood frozen beside him, her mind spinning. Six months ago? She'd never even met this man before yesterday, let alone married him.
"I assure you, sir, our records are quite clear," the supervisor continued. "Both parties were present for the registration. Your signatures are on file."
"Show me," Percival demanded.
The supervisor turned his tablet around. There on the screen were their signatures—unmistakably hers and, she presumed from Percival's deepening frown, authentically his as well.
Roman leaned forward, his confidence faltering. "There must be some mistake. Perhaps someone forged—"
"These are biometric signatures," the supervisor interrupted. "They record pressure points and writing speed. They cannot be forged."
