“No, thank you,” Charles replies. “I’m not staying long.”
Ah, small mercies.
I force myself to breathe. Shallow, controlled sips of air that won’t rustle the fabric.
“Alright.” Ice clinks against crystal; a liquid is poured. “What did you want to discuss?”
“We need to talk about your marriage,” Charles says.
My stomach drops through the floor. I wish I could follow and disappear.
“What about it?” Liam sounds on edge now.
“I understand young love, son. The impulsiveness. The passion. Your mother and I were the same way, once upon a time.”
Another pause. I imagine Liam’s expression—that controlled mask he wears around his father, the one that hides all his emotions.
“But a man in your position also needs to be practical,” Charles presses on. “You have responsibilities. To the company. To the family name. I’ve spoken with Roger, and he confirmed you didn’t sign a prenup.”
“Way to kill the romance, Dad.” Liam’s laugh is dry, humorless. “We got married this weekend. The ink on the certificate isn’t even dry, and you’re already planning the divorce.”
“This isn’t about love. It’s about protection.” Charles’s voice hardens. “I’ve asked Roger to draft a postnuptial agreement. It ensures that in the case of a split, Peyton won’t receive any shares in our holding. Only money. We can’t have outside ownership diluting the family trust.”
“I’m aware.”
I press my palms flat against the cold glass. Charles isn’t wrong, especially since this marriage already has an expiration date. I’m not a gold digger, but Liam doesn’t know that he can trust me. I’m surprised he didn’t make me sign a prenup himself.
“A cash settlement is the best option,” Charles concludes.
“How much?” Liam asks, sounding bored.
“We thought a hundred thousand dollars per year of marriage would be fair. Capped at ten years.”
Holy hell.
That’d be half a million if we stayed together for five years.
The number is staggering. Life-changing. A sum that would set up my parents, pay off their medical bills for the rest of their lives, and provide a comfy cushion for rainy days. But I’m already lying to this family—I won’t take their money on top of it.
I’ll sign whatever they want. Protect their precious company. But I won’t cash the check. It wouldn’t be right.
“I’ll discuss it with Peyton.” Liam’s voice has shifted, grown closer.
Is he coming this way? I stop breathing again.
Why is he walking toward the windows? Does he want to gaze out at the lake and contemplate his wealthy existence?
His footsteps halt on the other side of the curtain. He must be only inches away.
Liam makes a strangled, choking sound. Like he’s swallowed an ice cube whole.
“Are you alright?” Charles asks from across the room.
“Fine,” Liam wheezes. “Just… water down the wrong pipe.”
“Do you think she’ll sign?” Charles presses.
“I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”