Chapter 14 - THE FOUR-MONTH TEST
Money had started the marriage.
Now money threatened to ruin what had become real.
I hated the irony.
Julian read the addendum once.
Then tore it in half.
I stared.
“What are you doing?”
He tore it again.
“Removing the problem.”
“That was probably legally important.”
“Copies exist.”
“Of course.”
He sat across from me.
“Lena.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want you staying because of shares.”
“Neither do I.”
“I also don’t want to wonder whether you think I’m staying because I want your half.”
I laughed.
“You already have billions.”
“Less than before.”
“Tragic.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“We divorce now.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“Before the one-year mark.”
“Why?”
“So the clause never activates.”
I stared at him.
“You want a divorce.”
“No.”
That answer came fast.
“I want a choice without money attached.”
That hurt beautifully.
“So we divorce.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
He looked at me.
“Then I ask you out.”
I laughed through tears.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Probably.”
“And if I say no?”
“I suffer dramatically.”
“Privately?”
“No promises.”
We filed.
Quietly.
Legally.
The media went insane.
Billionaire midnight bride divorcing before first anniversary.
Speculation everywhere.
Gold digger.
Scam.
Corporate maneuver.
I stopped reading comments after day two.
Julian did not defend me publicly until I asked.
Then he issued one statement:
Lena Morales entered our marriage with more integrity than anyone involved in the Vale trust dispute. The divorce is mutual. Any speculation that she exploited me is false.
Nothing else.
No private details.
No romantic performance.
The divorce finalized three weeks before our anniversary.
I moved back into my own apartment.
Not because Julian asked.
Because I needed space.
Mom’s health improved.
Dad moved nearby.
We began rebuilding a relationship.
Camille started her own legal firm.
Sebastian remained in prison, cooperating.
Victor’s trial began.
And Julian?
He waited four days.
Then texted:
Dinner?
I laughed.
Replied:
You can afford better opening material.
He wrote:
Dinner, please?
Better.
Our first real date happened at a tiny Puerto Rican restaurant in Queens.
No cameras.
No contract.
No deadline.
He looked nervous.
I loved that.
“You’ve married me but you’re nervous about dinner?”
“Marriage was easier.”
“Because you could pay for it?”
His face changed.
I immediately regretted it.
Then he said:
“Probably.”
Honest.
I reached across the table.
“That version of us is over.”
“Yes.”
“So what is this?”
He looked at my hand.
Then at me.
“Something I don’t know how to buy.”
Good answer.
Months passed.
Dates.
Arguments.
Family dinners.
My classes.
His board meetings.
Normal things.
Then Victor was convicted.
The trust fraud triggered founder-share redistribution.
Because Julian and I had divorced before one year, the fifty-fifty clause did not activate.
Instead, the shares transferred to the employee foundation.
Exactly as Dad designed the emergency structure.
Julian lost personal access to a fortune.
He smiled when the ruling came.
I looked at him.
“You’re happy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because now you’ll never wonder.”
My throat tightened.
“Wonder what?”
“Whether I chose you over the money.”
Then he reached into his pocket.
Not a ring.
A folded receipt.
Restaurant bill.
On the back he had written:
Lena Morales, will you marry me again someday, with no deadline and no payment?
I stared.
Then looked at him.
“You propose on receipts now?”
“I’m adapting.”
I smiled.
“Ask me properly in Chapter Fifteen.”
He blinked.
“What?”
May you like
“Nothing.”
But we both laughed.
