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)
Normally, my parents would’ve been next in line to control the company, but they don’t do business.
Plus, relations have been strained with them and Gramps for as long as I can remember. They showed zero interest in Blackthorn Holdings as long as the cash from Mom’s trust kept flowing.
Gramps always tried to involve me in the empire, but until recently, I balked.
Let them stay back in New York, fussing over how little he left them, while I’m over here trying to figure out what to do with an inheritance I never asked for and a marriage I don’t want just to get it.
“Marriage stipulations in wills aren’t as uncommon as you may think,” Miss Wilkes says. “Yours isn’t the first case I’ve handled.”
“And in all cases, it’s been upheld?”
“In Maine, yes. Almost all.”
“Almost?”
“Mr. Blackthorn.” She sighs. “There’s no precedent for the marriage clause to be overturned in this case. Must I keep repeating myself?”
She says that now, but I’m going to recruit an army of lawyers and pull this damn will apart piece by piece.
Then we’ll see if she sings a different tune.
I drop into the seat in front of her desk, rubbing my fingers along the leather arms absently.
“Surely, you can agree it doesn’t make sense.” I drop my voice. “I’m not old. Hattie doesn’t know me.”
How many years has it been?
Last time I saw her, she barely looked at me.
I’ll admit, I deserved it.
I was a raging little asshole to her when we were kids. All the more reason this marriage could be fatal.
“What’s the reason?” I press. “You saw him before he died. You knew his thinking, especially with estate planning.”
She shrugs. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“What?”
“When he added his condition, I questioned it. I did my best to understand why, and I was very thorough. However, he was set on it. He didn’t care to elaborate. After the ink was on paper, I had no reason to press him before the end.”
I curse under my breath.
Gramps and his damn secrets.
He hid his illness from everyone until the day he died.
Not wanting us to worry or some shit.
Who knows.
There were never any limits to his pride.
Only his security head, Holden, knew about his condition before he slipped unconscious.
I wasn’t even there to see him off.
Everyone back at the office thought it was a stomach flu.
If I’d only known, I never would’ve let him die alone.
Neither would Margot or Cleo.
He had to know I’d drop everything and come.
Yes, we were in the middle of serious negotiations with Thompson over some new oceanfront property in Massachusetts, and the deal might have fallen through if I’d left abruptly.
But fuck it, that would have been worth it to be by his side when he passed, instead of getting a call from Mom to tell me he was dead.
Cancer.
Fast-moving, relentless, and secret. There was barely any time to diagnose it, and it was way past the treatment window.
He died like he lived his life, always in motion.
And damn if that’s not what I would’ve done, too.
Still, I would have told someone so they could mentally prepare.
Not this.
Not this fuckery.
My hands ball into fists and I force them to loosen. He made his decisions and he’s gone.
There’s nothing I can do.
Just like this atrocious conditional inheritance.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” Miss Wilkes says gently. “I understand the whole situation is a shock.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I mutter.
“You’re welcome to consult as many lawyers as you’d like, though I fear it won’t change the outcome.”
I wave away the thought.
Of course, she doesn’t think it will, and of course I’m going to hire them anyway. And of course, knowing my luck, they won’t find a goddamned mouse turd worth anything.
“There’s some good news,” she says softly.
Exhaling, I turn to face her. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“The will specifies the marriage only needs to last six months.”
Huh?
Only six months?
And that’s the good news?
Fucking peachy.
Six months of maintaining an unwanted bizarro marriage to a girl I tormented, and that’s not considering everything else associated with it, like a big showy wedding.
At least there’s an out, I suppose.
If the inheritance passes to me, I’ll be an extremely rich man and a public figure to boot.
You don’t just throw together a wedding with a complete stranger on a whim when you’re a Blackthorn.
Although, hell, maybe that’s what I should do.
We can jet off to Vegas and find the tackiest neon chapel, Elvis impersonator and all.
If Gramps wants a spectacle, I’ll give him one.
Public image be damned.
“And I don’t get my inheritance until I’ve tied the knot?” I ask.
“That’s also a bit more positive. As soon as you officially agree to marry Miss Sage and announce it publicly, you can assume your place as head of Blackthorn Holdings. Once the marriage hits its six-month mark from the wedding date, the estate passes to you. You’ll be clear to proceed as you see fit.”