Chapter 10 - The Divorce TrapI didn't sleep.
I sat at the dining table with the marriage agreement in front of me.
The clause was real.
I had signed it.
Not knowingly.
It had been buried in a stack of documents the wedding attorney had called standard marital protections.
It wasn't standard.
It was a weapon.
If I initiated divorce within forty-eight hours, Preston would gain temporary voting rights over my personal trust.
The clause would expire after forty-eight hours.
But that was enough.
Enough to access the loans.
Enough to transfer assets.
Enough to destabilize the Grant network.
I looked at my father.
"Who drafted this?"
He hesitated.
"Your attorney."
"My attorney?"
"No."
His eyes lowered.
"The Caldwell attorney."
I stood.
"You let their lawyer prepare my marriage contract?"
"I believed ours had reviewed it."
"Did they?"
Silence.
No.
They hadn't.
My mother slammed the document shut.
"Then we need to know who paid the lawyer."
My father nodded.
We traced the payment.
It came from a shell corporation.
The corporation was owned by another company.
That company was owned by a trust.
And the trust belonged to...
Veronica.
The room went silent.
Then Preston called.
I answered.
"What do you want?"
"To warn you."
"You've done enough."
"I know."
"Then why are you calling?"
"Because the clause isn't what you think."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"Veronica didn't put it there."
"Your lawyer did."
"Yes."
"Then she did."
"No."
His voice dropped.
"Someone ordered the lawyer."
"Who?"
A long pause.
"My grandfather."
I stared at the phone.
"He's dead."
"I know."
"Then how?"
"I found a letter."
"What letter?"
"It was written before he died."
"And?"
"He knew you would marry me."
My skin prickled.
"That's impossible."
"He predicted the marriage."
"No."
"He said if the Grant family ever tried to destroy Caldwell Hotels, the transfer clause would activate."
I swallowed.
"Why?"
"Because he knew your father would eventually retaliate."
I looked at my parents.
They were listening.
Preston continued.
"But there's something else."
"What?"
"The clause isn't designed to give me control."
"Then what is it for?"
"It gives someone else control through me."
"Who?"
Preston whispered:
"Veronica."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Preston wasn't the heir.
He was the door.
Veronica needed his signature.
The marriage gave her a path into my trust.
I asked:
"Where is the original agreement?"
"At Caldwell Grand."
"The Black Room?"
"Yes."
"Then we're going there."
"No."
His voice was urgent.
"You can't."
"Why?"
"Because Veronica isn't there."
"Then who is?"
He hesitated.
"The man who killed my grandfather."
My blood ran cold.
"Who?"
"I don't know his name."
"Then how do you know he's there?"
"Because I saw him."
"When?"
"This morning."
"Where?"
"Outside your father's house."
I looked toward the windows.
My father noticed.
"What's wrong?"
I lowered the phone.
Preston's voice came again.
"Amelia."
"Yes?"
"Look behind you."
I turned.
The curtains moved.
There was someone standing outside.
Watching me.
Then the lights went out.
Again.
And this time, the attacker didn't fire from a distance.
The window shattered inward.
A hand reached through.
I screamed.
Someone grabbed me.
My father fired.
The intruder fell.
Security rushed in.
But when they pulled the mask away, the man wasn't a stranger.
He was someone I knew.
Someone from my wedding.
My wedding photographer.
And in his hand was a photograph.
Of me.
Taken before I met Preston.
May you like
On the back were five words:
She was chosen at birth.
