Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 44860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Olivio listened in brooding silence as Edgar laid everything out.
Chelsea Regis had been nineteen years old when a car accident had put her in a coma. No parents—-her father had died the year before, her mother years before that. No next of kin except a stepmother who'd wasted no time petitioning the courts to access Chelsea's inheritance.
"The proxy marriage was the only legal mechanism that could protect her estate without institutional oversight," Edgar said. "A spouse has standing that a godfather doesn't. I needed someone whose name would make Francine's lawyers think twice before filing another motion." A pause. "I needed you."
"And Chelsea?"
"Didn't know. Not who you were, not your name, not a single detail. The marriage existed on paper, and that paper sat in my safe for three years. She only learned about it when she woke up."
He could see the logic of it. A girl unconscious in a hospital bed. A stepmother positioned to drain her dry. And Edgar, who had promised her father he would protect her, using the only weapon sharp enough to cut through the legal machinery arrayed against a woman who couldn't speak for herself.
The thought of her in a coma had his chest tightening for some reason, and just as inexplicable was his fierce need to protect Chelsea from anyone seeking to do her harm.
Edgar placed the documents he had prepared on Olivio's desk. "It's all there, son."
Olivio studied the documents one by one. Edgar had made sure to protect Olivio's own interests by arranging for a prenuptial agreement for him and Chelsea, and it was airtight in Olivio's favor.
No conjugal assets. Clean dissolution at either party's request.
But even so.
"When you called this morning," Olivio murmured, "you told me it was her idea to come here."
"I'm afraid so."
Interesting.
His mentor wasn't the type to use such words carelessly, but Olivio found himself unusually hard pressed to figure out where Edgar was coming from.
"What's the catch?" he asked finally.
The older man's gaze drifted to the window, just in time for both of them to see a plane cross their view. He could tell that Edgar was searching for the right words to say, and that, too, was a challenge for Olivio to comprehend.
"When Chelsea woke up...she had changed."
"Isn't that typical for someone who had a near-death experience?"
"That change is why she insisted on coming here."
"Is that so?"
"She wants to stay married to you...and she insisted on this without knowing who you are."
"I see."
Olivio's tone was polite, but Edgar wasn't buying it. At all.
"I know what you're thinking, and it's not that. She isn't like that."
"Of course."
Edgar was starting to realize that Olivio already had a plan in mind. "You're too calm."
Olivio leaned back and the leather received him without sound. "How suspicious you are, Zio."
Edgar shook his head. "Something's up. I can feel it. Otherwise, you would have already said something—-done something—-by now. Because an issue of this magnitude? You're not the type to let it slide."
"I'm starting to sense some favoritism," Olivio said mockingly. "How is that you seem to take her every word as truth while I have yet to say a thing—-"
"Because I know you—-"
"Do you, Zio?"
"Of course."
"Then will you be surprised if I tell you I agree with her, and that we should stay married?"
Silence.
"Now is the time for you to offer your well wishes, Zio."
Edgar finally recovered from his shock. But before he could say another word—-
"And you were right earlier, by the way." Olivio rose to his feet in one fluid movement and straightened his jacket. "I would normally not let something like this slide. But circumstances as such allow me to be forgiving."
A pause, and Edgar had the grace to flush. He knew he should be at the very least grateful that Olivio was letting him off this lightly, considering that what he had done—-however well-meaning—-was still a crime.
"I suggest we take that as a win for both of us. And for our friendship's sake—-I'll appreciate it if you don't get in the way of my plans."
If Edgar had been a decade or so younger, the warning underscoring Olivio's words could have made him bristle and offended his pride. But because he was much older now, and much calmer and wiser—-
"What exactly are you planning, Olivio?"
"Right now? I simply want a private word with my wife."
"And after that?"
Olivio looked at his mentor—-this man who had sat across from him in lecture halls and boardrooms and once in a hospital waiting room at two in the morning—-and said nothing for long enough that the city seemed to hold its breath.
"I appreciate your concern, Zio. And while I can't give you my word that she won't get hurt—-" He moved toward the door, the room falling away behind him. "This much I can promise: for as long as she's my wife, and she's smart enough to play by my rules—-you'll have nothing to worry about."