Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“So, I know this is weird,” Margot adds. “But trust me, when you hear what this is about, you’ll get why I went for the whole lawyer thing.”
I glance between them quickly, officially freaked.
“Okay… What’s this about?”
“Gramps, of course.” Margot gestures at Jackie. “Go ahead.”
The lawyer never breaks her smile, cool and efficient. “As you may know, Hattie, Mr. Blackthorn was a highly successful man, but he had a few peculiarities.”
I nod slowly.
“Yes, I’m familiar.” I trade a glance with Margot, but she’s not smiling. Instead, she’s chewing her lip, looking worried.
Not good.
“These peculiarities extended to his last will and trust, and I’m afraid some of those conditions impact you directly,” Jackie explains.
She pauses and opens the leather briefcase at her side, retrieving a neatly clipped pile of documents she pushes across the table.
My eyes flick down in horror.
Some lines of text are already highlighted in yellow. I realize I’m looking at the will. Or a copy of some section of it.
“As part of Ethan Blackthorn’s inheritance specifically, Mr. Blackthorn set a rather unusual condition for his grandson.”
The grandson mention has me reeling again.
What the hell could anything involving Ethan have to do with me? My hands shake as I scan the paper. The highlighted lines blur.
A sixth sense tells me what’s coming, even if I can’t believe it.
This absolutely, categorically cannot be happening.
“No way,” I croak.
“Ethan Blackthorn’s inheritance—namely, his full trust and controlling stake in Blackthorn Holdings—has a curious contingency,” Jackie says, not beating around the bush, which is a good thing because I can’t decipher legalese through my spinning thoughts. “You must become his wife.”
There’s the mic drop.
And that’s when the shock catches up like a relentless wave, pulling me under, until the world I know spins into blackness.
2
ALL THE TECHNICALITIES (ETHAN)
Preposterous.
Certifiably fucking insane.
I pace the floor of the law office like a caged animal, my shoes practically burning a hole in the plush rug.
There are a thousand useful things I could be doing at this precise second, but instead I’m here. Cooped up in Jackie Wilkes’ immaculate office, listening to the outrageous pile of crap my grandfather put in his will.
The old man had to be senile.
There’s no other explanation.
“This is bullshit, right?” I glare at Miss Wilkes where she’s sitting behind the desk, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.
As always, her dark hair is up in a neat bun and her skin looks like a tan statue.
Normally, I’d be impressed with her professional manner as she waits for me to get a damn grip, but right now I’m fucking livid.
“That’s your opinion, Mr. Blackthorn, and you’re certainly entitled to it,” she says calmly.
Not saying I’m right or wrong.
Polite and poised as always. Probably training for her future career in politics.
“Bull. Shit,” I repeat, snarling. “I cannot believe you’re even telling me this.”
“It’s in Leonidas Blackthorn’s will. You’re perfectly welcome to read it yourself, if you have any doubt.”
I know.
I know, but that doesn’t make anything better.
If it was in the old man’s will, what was he snorting to put it there?
No chance this was the result of some logical decision. No rational man decides to put a marriage clause in his will. Especially in a state where it’s goddamned legal.
I can’t overturn it, not without escalating this to high-level state courts, and that could take years.
Kill me.
Undaunted, Miss Wilkes opens a file and pulls out three papers, turning them around and pushing them to my side of the desk. Then she sits back and waits with the same iron patience as before.
An earthquake could rip the ground open and she wouldn’t bat an eye.
Gramps took her on five years ago, and she’s been a force of nature ever since, a legal hitwoman dressed in starched blouses and pantsuits ironed so perfectly the creases remain all day.
Case in point: it’s seven in the evening and we’re still going. And her creases are still fucking immaculate.
A small detail I reluctantly appreciate as I turn to face her and the copy of the will she’s printed.
It’s not that I don’t believe her.
I do.
The issue is there’s no good reason to uphold these lunatic terms. It feels like a constitutional infringement of my rights.
“And you see no reason to fight this?”
“Leonidas was perfectly within his rights to make this request, per existing Maine law, statute—”
“It’s not a request,” I clip, cutting her off. “It’s an unfair requirement for me to get my money, my inheritance. I need to marry a girl I don’t even know. What the fuck?”
“Correct.”
I reach up and grab my head, pressing the sides. I feel like my skull’s exploding and I need to hold it together.
“And you’re fine with this? You’re carrying this out?”
“I have no legal grounds to object, sir. I’m confident another attorney will reach the same conclusion.”
No legal grounds, my ass.
“I’ll hire my own lawyers. Hell, I’ll buy out the whole fucking law office if that’s what it takes to overturn this shit.”