Chapter 6 - THE MARRIAGE WITH A FORTY-EIGHT-HOUR DEADLINE
I had always believed marriage proposals should involve flowers.
Maybe champagne.
Possibly a ring.
Mine involved armed guards, an underground vault, two manipulative mothers, and approximately two hundred million dollars.
“Absolutely not.”
Vincent leaned against the vault wall.
“I haven’t asked.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking several things.”
“Don’t.”
His mouth twitched.
“You’re very commanding.”
“Learned from you.”
Our mothers were removed from the vault for questioning.
Samuel went to a hospital under police guard.
Daniel disappeared.
Again.
And I was left with the worst legal document I had ever seen.
A merger clause.
Forty-eight hours.
Voluntary marriage.
If no marriage, Daniel inherited everything through a loophole in Angelo Bell’s original trust.
“Why would Rose agree to this?” I asked.
Vincent’s attorney, Anna Chen, adjusted her glasses.
“She didn’t.”
“What?”
“The clause predates her.”
“So why is it still valid?”
“Because Rose never dissolved the underlying trust.”
“Can we?”
“Not before the deadline.”
Of course.
I looked at Vincent.
“No.”
He held up his hands.
“Still haven’t asked.”
“Good.”
Anna cleared her throat.
“There is another option.”
I brightened.
“What?”
“You could voluntarily marry someone else.”
Silence.
Vincent’s face changed.
I looked at Anna.
“Anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
Vincent’s voice went cold.
“No.”
I turned.
“Excuse me?”
“No random husband.”
“You don’t get a vote.”
“If Daniel controls the trust, he’ll use it to attack both families.”
“Yes.”
“If you marry someone unprotected, Daniel will pressure him.”
“Then I’ll find someone brave.”
Vincent stared.
“Like the widower?”
“Too soon.”
Marco choked.
Anna continued.
“The merger specifically maximizes protection if the spouse is Vincent. Anyone else would leave the Marino trust separate.”
Vincent looked at me.
“There.”
“Don’t say there.”
“There.”
I wanted to throw something.
Then my mother entered.
Her eyes were red.
“Evelyn.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“Please.”
“You tried to arrange my marriage using a criminal inheritance clause.”
“We never planned to force you.”
“You planned to manipulate me.”
“Yes.”
At least she admitted it.
Mrs. Marino entered behind her.
“We thought if you met naturally—”
“Under a banquet table?”
She smiled faintly.
“That part was surprisingly successful.”
Vincent rubbed his forehead.
“Mother.”
I looked at him.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Swear.”
His expression became serious.
“I swear.”
I believed him.
That was annoying.
My mother sat.
“Rose wanted the money destroyed.”
“Then why not destroy it?”
“She tried.”
“How?”
“She planned to transfer everything into charities.”
“And Samuel killed her.”
“Yes.”
My anger returned.
“So Daniel gets it if I don’t marry.”
“Yes.”
“Why does he qualify?”
“Angelo’s illegitimate line.”
Mrs. Marino added, “The old trust favors the strongest surviving male claimant if the female line fails the merger.”
“Charming.”
Vincent looked disgusted too.
“Angelo was a relic.”
I paced.
Two days.
Marry Vincent.
Marry someone else.
Or hand a criminal fortune to Daniel.
“Can we give it away after marriage?”
Anna nodded.
“If the merger completes, yes.”
I stopped.
Vincent understood.
“You want to marry, merge, then dissolve the trust.”
“Yes.”
“And divorce.”
I looked at him.
“Obviously.”
Something shifted in his face.
Tiny.
Gone quickly.
“Obviously.”
Why did that bother me?
This was insane.
We had known each other one day.
One sandwich.
One gunfight.
One family conspiracy.
Not exactly a foundation for lifelong commitment.
Yet somehow, the idea of marrying a stranger bothered me more than marrying Vincent.
That was worse.
I looked at him.
“You’d do it?”
He was silent.
Then,
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep Daniel from controlling the money.”
“That’s the practical answer.”
“It’s the answer.”
I stared.
He stared back.
Neither of us moved.
Then Marco entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Daniel.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
Marco looked toward me.
“Your apartment.”
I went cold.
“What?”
“He left something.”
A photograph.
My home office.
My desk.
My laptop open.
On the screen:
A draft email.
Written from my account.
Sent to Vincent.
Subject:
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO ROSE.
I stared.
“I didn’t write that.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
The message had been sent six months earlier.
Six months before we met.
Someone had been using my identity to contact him.
May you like
And Vincent whispered,
“That email is why I came to the gala.”
