The Daughter at the Door

I froze for all of two seconds.

My first thought was, 'Wow, Rosalind had really kept this under wraps.'

My second was to run through our prenuptial agreement in my head.

What was the third clause again?

Oh, right. I'd step aside immediately and get double the alimony if her true love ever came along.

I immediately stepped aside to let the girl in, my tone all business. "Come on in. She's still at work. Have a seat. What would you like to drink?"

The girl clearly hadn't expected my reaction. She stared at me for a long moment before hesitantly asking, "You're… not angry?"

Angry? Why would I be angry?

If anything, I was hoping that Rosalind really was having an affair.

Then, she'd have no choice but to hand me tens of millions in alimony. Once the money was in, I'd be able to live the life of a wealthy man with no strings attached to me.

I looked down as the girl slipped off her shoes. She was tall and graceful for a girl at 17. She might have Rosalind's eyes and features, but she had a much more innocent air to her.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Yvonne."

I took a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to her.

"Yvonne, your mom and I have a marriage of convenience. We each get what we need from it. Her private life is none of my business. Naturally, I have no reason to be angry."

Her grip on the water bottle tightened slightly as her throat bobbed at my explanation, but she didn't say anything.

I sat down in the armchair across from her, keeping the coffee table between us.

She really did resemble Rosalind.

She reminded me of what happened three years ago. My mother had been on her deathbed as she gripped Rosalind's hand, entrusting me to her.

The Young family owed my mother a life debt. So, Rosalind was repaying it by marrying me.

Still, she handed me a prenuptial agreement the night before we signed the marriage certificate.

I skimmed through it before holding up three fingers and saying, "Then, I'll add three clauses of my own.

"First, no feelings. We only talk about profit sharing. Second, you can live your life, and I'll live mine. Third, I'll step aside immediately if your true love ever comes along. However, I'll also get double the alimony."

She lowered her head and signed without the slightest pause. "Fine."

Neither of us whispered words of love and devotion from start to finish.

After we got married, we slept in separate rooms and even ate separately.

She spent 20 days a month traveling abroad. Regardless, we crossed paths less often than she did with her secretary for the remaining ten.

Three years ago, she was the first one to walk inside the City Hall, sign the paperwork, and make it official.

She never looked back at me, not even once.

It was as if we weren't getting married. Instead, she acted as if she were simply closing a business deal.

…

When Rosalind came home, I was curled up on the couch watching a TV show.

Her footsteps passed the couch before stopping for about two seconds.

I turned the volume up a couple of notches and kept watching.

She didn't go upstairs.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and found her standing there, her gaze fixed on me.

"Who did you meet today?" she finally asked.

I paused the show and sat up straight, looking perfectly serious.

"Ms. Young, you've got quite the information network. A pretty young girl showed up and said she was your daughter. You've done a great job keeping her under wraps."

The room fell silent for several seconds. Her face remained expressionless, but she didn't deny it.

"I'll handle this," she answered curtly.

I nodded. I got up from the couch. When I passed her by, I stopped briefly to say, "Sure. By the way, just let me know if you need me to cooperate with the divorce proceedings."

I hesitated, but couldn't resist adding, "You do remember the double-alimony clause in the agreement, right?"