The Ruthless Heir’s Conditions

At eight o’clock that evening, I entered Caelan Voss’s home with my lawyer beside me and a recording device hidden in my handbag.

The Voss estate stood above the city like a fortress. Black iron gates surrounded acres of manicured land, and security cameras followed our car along the private road.

In my first life, I had attended one reception here. Caelan had stood alone on the balcony while Lucien whispered that ruthless men eventually became lonely ones.

I had believed him.

Now I wondered whether Lucien had been afraid of the man he pretended to pity.

A housekeeper led us into Caelan’s study. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, while shelves of legal documents replaced the decorative books common in wealthy homes.

Caelan sat behind a dark wooden desk.

His lawyer, Helena Ward, occupied the chair beside him. A contract lay before them.

“Ms. Mercer,” Helena said, “this document outlines a one-year marital arrangement between you and Mr. Voss.”

“A year?” I asked.

Caelan gestured toward the empty chair. “Sit.”

My lawyer and I took our places.

Helena pushed copies of the document across the desk.

“The marriage will provide Mr. Voss with the stable public image required by several conservative members of the Voss board,” she explained. “In return, Mr. Voss will settle the Mercer cancellation penalty and protect Mercer Holdings from hostile acquisition.”

I skimmed the opening pages.

The terms were direct. Caelan would pay Lucien’s thirty-million-dollar claim if the cancellation clause proved enforceable. He would also provide Mercer Holdings with a credit facility large enough to prevent the Vale Group from pressuring our lenders.

But nothing involving Caelan could be that simple.

“What are the three conditions?” I asked.

He leaned back.

“First, the marriage must appear genuine in public. You will attend business events with me, live in my residence, and refrain from any romantic involvement outside the marriage.”

“Agreed, provided the same restriction applies to you.”

“It does.”

“Second?”

“You will not interfere with my investigation into the Vale Group.”

My hand stilled on the contract.

“What investigation?”

“If you need to know, I’ll tell you.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re receiving tonight.”

My lawyer shifted beside me. “Miss Mercer should understand any legal risk connected to this investigation.”

“She will not be asked to participate in unlawful activity.”

I studied Caelan. He was careful with his words. He had not said there was no unlawful activity.

“And the third condition?”

His face became unreadable.

“You will not enter the west wing of this house.”

I almost laughed. “Is this a marriage contract or a gothic novel?”

“Call it whatever helps you remember the rule.”

“What’s in the west wing?”

“My private records.”

“Then lock the door.”

“I have.”

There was something more behind the condition. Caelan was not a man who wasted words, yet he had written an entire clause forbidding me from entering one part of the house.

I returned to the contract.

“My conditions are simple. My father’s company remains under Mercer control. You will not acquire shares without his written consent.”

“Accepted.”

“You will not make medical or financial decisions on my behalf.”

“Accepted.”

“If either of us discovers that the other has concealed information that places my father in danger, the contract ends immediately.”

For the first time, Caelan hesitated.

“Define danger.”

“Anything that threatens his health, freedom, company, or life.”

A strange look crossed his face.

“Accepted,” he said at last.

I added one final condition.

“We use separate bedrooms.”

Helena looked down, hiding what might have been amusement.

Caelan’s expression did not change. “You assume I would want otherwise.”

Heat climbed into my face, but I refused to look away.

“My experience has taught me not to leave expectations undefined.”

Something hardened in his eyes.

“Your experience with Lucien?”

The question felt too personal.

“My experience with trust.”

Our lawyers reviewed the amendments. After nearly two hours, the contract was ready.

I signed first.

Caelan took the pen from me. His fingers brushed mine, sending an unwelcome awareness along my skin.

He signed without hesitation.

It was done.

That morning, I had awakened as Lucien’s bride.

Now I was promised to Caelan Voss.

Helena gathered the documents. “A civil ceremony can be arranged tomorrow. A public reception should follow within the week.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked.

“Lucien will challenge the cancellation agreement,” Caelan said. “The sooner our marriage is legal, the less room he has to claim you acted impulsively.”

My lawyer nodded reluctantly. “He has a point.”

I rose. “Then tomorrow.”

As I moved toward the door, Caelan spoke.

“Where did you learn about the Mercer-Vale shipping transfer?”

I stopped.

I had mentioned no transfer.

Slowly, I turned. “What are you talking about?”

“The statement you made at the wedding. You said Lucien had taken enough from your family.”

“That was an accusation, not a reference to a specific transaction.”

Caelan watched me too closely.

Before he could continue, Helena’s phone rang. She answered, listened briefly, and then looked at us.

“You need to see the news.”

She turned the television on.

The first image showed me standing before Caelan in my wedding dress. Beneath it ran a breaking-news headline:

MERCER HEIRESS ABANDONS LUCIEN VALE FOR RUTHLESS VOSS HEIR.

A photograph of Selene appeared beside mine.

The caption identified her as the woman originally promised to Caelan through a confidential family agreement.

I stared at it.

“What agreement?”

Caelan rose slowly, anger chilling his features.

“My grandfather has just announced that I was supposed to marry the other Mercer bride.”