CHAPTER 4: A Legacy and a Funeral 

CHAPTER 4: A Legacy and a Funeral 

Maybe it was the wind, because I didn't think I heard him well. 

“I beg your pardon? What did you just say?”

“You're still my wife.”

“Only on paper.”

“Paper’s binding. That's all that matters,” he said simply. 

His voice dropped.

“Come back with me. Reclaim what's yours and fulfill your obligations.”

I had had it with him throwing that word around on me. 

“Obligations?” I echoed. “You mean the marriage you practically forced on me. The one you used to humiliate me over something that was no fault of mine. I never wanted this.”

His jaw tightened. Finally a reaction from him.

“It was never about humiliation,” he said calmly. “It was about protection. And damage control. Both of which you didn't know, and still know nothing about.”

I shook my head. “No. It was about control. Just like now.”

There was a long pause.

Zachary studied me calmly. Not with cruelty—but with that quiet, clinical awareness I always hated. Like he was measuring me. Reading all the things I so deeply wanted to bury.

“You can hate me, Madelyn,” he said finally.

“But you’ll come. Because you want it back. All of it.”

I hated that he could easily see right through me. I hated that he was always right. I hadn't known that I was an heiress until a few minutes ago, but I was not going to let that family take what was mine.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you lose everything.” His voice didn't waver. “Not just the inheritance. But your chance to make them pay.”

“You’re blackmailing me.”

“I'm giving you a choice.” He stepped closer and leaned in. “I've always given you choices. You just don't like the ones I offer.”

I took a conscious step back. 

“You think I’d sell myself for a few pieces of land and company shares?”

Zachary’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

“You already did.”

I inhaled sharply, but he had already stepped past me and begun to walk out of the shop, the door swinging open on silent hinges.

He paused briefly before stepping through.

“I'll send a car in the morning. You have until ten.”

Then he went as quickly as he arrived. I didn't know how I managed to make it to the nearest chair and drop into it. Air quickly flooded my lungs like I had been holding my breath the whole time. 

Give Zachary an heir. 

Could I really bring myself to do that? Had I really agreed to that? What had I gotten myself into? 

Lenny burst into the room again. 

“So? Is that a new client or the French assassin husband,” she asked, breathlessly.

“He's not French. I'm going home, Lenny.”

Barely twelve hours later, I was settled into the posh cozy private jet that belonged to Zachary. The hum of the engines were the only sounds between us. The cabin smelled faintly of clean linen, polished wood, and something cool and expensive—just like the man seated across from me.

Zachary hadn't spoken since takeoff.

He was absorbed in his laptop, face illuminated from the screen's pale glow, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the cut of his strong toned forearms and expensive timepiece. Still the same. Still intimidating. Enigmatic. Intriguing.

 Dangerously attractive.

I chided myself for my last thought. This was not the time for such stupid things. I had bigger issues to worry about.

Finally I broke the silence.

“Why did you ask me for a child?”

His fingers stilled, just for half of a second—and then resumed.

“Because you're my wife,” he replied without looking up.

“That's not an answer,” I ground tightly. “You've consciously ignored that fact—ignored me for years.”

He didn't reply immediately, not that I expected him to. He finished typing, closed the laptop gently and leaned back in his seat. That unreadable gaze. Dark orbs. Still I squirmed.

“Do you know how I came to be your guardian?”

I blinked—caught off guard. That was neither the answer nor the question I was expecting.

“You were friends with my father. Weren't you?”

Zachary's lips curved slightly. Not a smile. But his eyes remained steady. Dispassionate.

“No.”

“What?”

“My father and your grandfather were the best of friends. Childhood companions. Allies. I met you father once. A very long time ago. It was your grandfather that ensured your guardianship. Not him.”

I was at a loss for words. This was not what I had expected. But I was still at a bigger loss on how this factored into the answer I was expecting from him.

“My father didn't have me until he was fifty. A medical fluke, considering the issues in our line.”

“Issues?”

“Infertility. Consistent enough to track through time.” He paused briefly. “He's ninety now. Still alive. Still waiting to see a grandchild. Waiting for me to prove that I won't end up like him.”

Slowly the implications began to dawn on me. This wasn't about him just wanting to have an heir. At least not in the way I thought. 

“So this isn't merely because you want a child, but because your father wants proof that your line does not end with you.”

“I turn forty soon.”

I gave him a sneaky once over. He looked nothing like forty.

“I have to start thinking about family longevity. My father didn't focus more on what mattered at the time.”

His voice didn't rise—but there was some edge in it. “I won't make the same mistake.”

Anger and indignation pricked me. My voice is colder now.

“So now I'm what? Some kind of genetic investment? You must have thought—‘oh well, why not drag Madelyn out of oblivion to help?’” I said bitterly. 

“We're married. There's no dragging. Just reactivation.”

My stomach was twisted in knots, but I tried to mask it with sarcasm.

“There are other ways to achieve your aim. Donation, science, surrogacy. You don't need my—”

“No.”

Zachary's eyes sharpened as his voice cut through my sentence.

I was almost too tense to ask.

 “Why?”

“Because if I'm to have a child, I want it to be done the natural way. I want it to be mine and my wife's. Not from a stranger's body. No synthetic arrangements. I want the bloodline carried naturally. Properly.”

My fingers tightened in the armrest, and my breath caught in my throat. 

“Naturally, properly,” I repeated, almost like an accusation. 

Zachary didn't blink. “Yes.”

Despite the cold air in the cabin, a thin sheen of sweat coated my skin.

I quickly tore my eyes away from him. All my nerves were on edge, my skin pricked with heat and anxiety. Just now the enormity of what I had agreed to dawned on me. 

Zachary opened the laptop again. The conversation as far as he was concerned was over. But for me it was the beginning of a nightmare. When I had agreed to his proposal, I thought that we had the options of medical science to help with his much wanted heir. Now I knew it was not so, and the thought of intimacy with any man was a horror for me— since that night.

“What if I refuse?”

He didn’t look at me. “You agreed the moment you stepped in this plane, Madelyn. Moreover, you're my wife.”

“This is still blackmail,” I cried affronted.

“ We had a deal. You had options—choices.”

He was right. He didn't force me. I was here because I wanted to fight for what was mine. And also get my revenge. I resented Zachary. But I despised Vance and Patricia more. 

“Once—that night. You took revenge for me. What if you did that again?” I continued bitterly.

I knew I was skating on thin ice, but I didn't care anymore. My life had been upheaved in the blink of an eye. I had lost my business, Lenny— my freedom all at once. 

His fingers stilled once more, then continued. “Careful, Madelyn. You’re treading a dangerous path.”

I read the note of warning and finality in his voice loud and clear. No matter how much I tried to make him talk about that night, and what had happened—I always met a brick wall. 

But how could I forget what I had seen that night. That was the night my silly crush and infatuation with him disappeared.

I turned my head to the window, and shut my eyes tightly. I had so much to deal with and so much to think about. But I had barely slept a wink last night between packing my things and trying to calm down the hysterical weeping mess that was Lenny. 

I decided to try and catch some sleep before we landed. I was lucky to fall asleep. I had the same nightmare again. The one from my eighteenth birthday. The man was on top of me, his warm slippery lips on my neck dropping wet kisses, his hand holding my hands above my head and his other hand under my dress pulling on my panties as I cried and screamed for help. It felt like I was drowning. I struggled and fought. 

I felt a tentative tap on my shoulder, and I awoke with a jerk and a gasp. The face of the flight attendant came into view. 

“We've just landed, madam.”

When she left, I saw that Zachary was still seated, but he was watching me calmly with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Whether he knew what I had been dreaming about, I had no idea. But I turned my gaze away, aflush with embarrassment. I noticed that a blanket had been thrown over me, but it was now askew from my struggles earlier. I wondered if it was the flight attendant.

I was still smoothing down my dress when Zachary left the cabin without saying a word to me. I immediately followed after him. 

The car ride to the estate was tense and quiet with Zachary working on his laptop and ignoring me. And honestly,I didn't mind.

As soon as we arrived at the estate, Zachary was out of the car and heading for the front door, while I trailed behind him. It had been so long since I was here—home. As we walked into the grand foyer,I was expecting to see the elderly warm, kind housekeeper of Zachary, Mary, who had been like a mother to me. But I was surprised to see an elegant sophisticated redhead walking down the stairs, a zipped dress hanger in her hand, and a phone in her other hand. It seemed like she had just gotten off a call. 

“Welcome back, Zach,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she hugged him.

I was shell shocked. Even more so when I saw him hug her back. I had never seen Zachary treat anyone that way—nor anyone dare treat him so.

“And you must be Madelyn,” she said, approaching me with a sharp smile. Too sharp for my liking. 

She pulled me into a hug, and I instantly disliked the heady smell of her rose scented perfume. 

“I've heard so much about you. Not from Zachary,” she added quickly. “The staff had quite a lot to say. And I must add, you're prettier than they gave you credit for.”

My smile was too sharp—too sweet. Her underlying energy was not well hidden. I liked her not.

I donned a plastic smile of my own. “And you are?”

“Julia. His cousin. And his assistant and Publicist.”

I never knew about a cousin. I shot a glance at Zachary and he was not even paying us any attention, because it was fixed on his phone.

A quick look at her wristwatch and Julia's manner changed to one of slight urgency. She spoke to Zachary urgently.

“We barely have time. You both have to get dressed if we are to make it there on time.”

Zachary looked up from his phone and gave a faint nod just as Julia pressed the dress into my hand. 

“You need to get changed.”

I looked between them, a knit forming between my brows. 

“What is going on? Where are we going?”

“You and Zachary are heading to the funeral of a business partner's wife,” Julia replied simply, pressing her phone. 

“The Bomers,” she added.

I quickly turned to Zachary, eyes widening. 

“What is she talking about? Who died?”

“Vance Bomer’s wife. Nicole Bomer.”