Chapter 4

Nathan's Pov

It was a basement. Concrete floor. Pipes running across the ceiling. One bulb hanging off a wire. And Jessica, curled up on the floor, hair was a mess, mascara smeared, eyes red.

"Please," she was saying, her voice shaking. "Please help me. My sister locked me in here. She stole the wedding from me. She wanted Nathan for herself. She locked me in the basement. Please. Somebody."

The video was cut off.

I looked up at Olivia. She was watching me, waiting.

I held up the phone. "What is this?"

Her face was drained of color. Her eyes widened. "WHAT?"

"Your sister. Locked in a basement. Crying. Saying you did this to her."

She shook her head, hands starting to shake harder. "That's not true. I didn't do that. I never did that."

"She's on video, Olivia. Right there. Crying. Saying you locked her up…In the basement. What do you have to say to that?"

"That's not true!" Her voice came up for the first time. "I never locked her anywhere. I never would."

"Then why's she saying you did."

"I don't know! She lies! She always lies! She is just trying to sabotage me! She always does this! Please believe me! I had no hand in this!"

I laughed, broken and ugly. "She's lying. Right. Because she's the liar and you're the saint."

Olivia stood up. Her hands had curled into fists at her sides.

"I am the victim," she said. "I've been the victim my whole life. My entire family has treated me like trash since I was a kid and I never did one thing to deserve it."

"Your sister's on video…"

"Jessica has been cruel to me since the day she was born!" Her voice cracked right down the middle. "She's mocked me. Made me feel like nothing. Over and over. And now she's doing it again and you're falling for it. Just like everybody always does."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. She was breathing hard, her chest going up and down fast, and there were tears on her face now too. It didn't look fake.

But Jessica's video. Jessica's face. Jessica's tears.

I genuinely didn't know who to believe.

Before I could figure out what to say, the door opened.

A woman walked in. She was older, had gray hair, and a suit that cost a fortune. My mother. Patricia Hayes.

She stopped in the doorway and her eyes moved across the room. The bed. The sheets everywhere. Me. Olivia.

"What is going on here," she said. Cold and flat. Her disappointed voice.

"Mother," I said. "I can explain…”

"I'm sure you can." She walked in,her heels clicking on the floor, and stopped right in front of Olivia, looking her up and down at her." And who is this?" She was clearly irritated.

"Olivia Morgan," I said. "She's... my wife."

Patricia's eyes went wide for half a second. Her face didn't move but her eyes turned to ice.

"Your what."

"My wife. Apparently. From last night. When I was drunk."

She turned to look at me with her eyes sharp. "You married this woman while you were drunk?"

"It wasn't supposed to be her," I said fast. "It was supposed to be Jessica. The younger one. Something went wrong."

"Something went wrong," she repeated. She turned back to Olivia, eyes crawling over her face, her dress, her hands, her hair. "You look like a servant."

Olivia flinched.

"I cut my business trip short to come home and find my son married to a stranger," Patricia went on. "A stranger who looks like she crawled out of a gutter. What did you do to my son." She looked stunned.

"I didn't do anything," Olivia said. Her voice had gone small. The fight from earlier was gone, replaced with something closer to fear.

"Don't lie to me. I know your type. You saw money and you took your shot."

"That's not what happened." She said softly.

"Then what happened." Patricia's voice cut like glass. "Explain why my son woke up married to a woman he's never met. Explain why his actual fiancée is missing. Explain why I'm looking at a gold-digger who thinks she can marry her way into this family."

"I'm not a gold-digger," Olivia said, voice shaking. "I was forced into this. My father…"

"Your father." Patricia laughed. An ugly sound. "That's your excuse? Daddy made me do it?"

"Yes! He told me if I refused he'd throw me out. I had nothing. No one. No choice."

"There's always a choice," Patricia said flat. "You chose to trap my son into a marriage. You chose to ruin his engagement to a perfectly good woman. And now you want sympathy?"

"Mother." My voice came out sharper than I meant it. "That's enough."

She turned on me. "Don't tell me what's enough, Nathan! You're the one who got drunk and married a stranger! You made this mess! Now, I have to clean it up! Like always! I thought you were going to be responsible just this once!" She looked sternly at my face.

"I didn't know what I was doing…"

"Exactly. You never do. You drink, you wreck something, and I fix it. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME."

I started to respond. Then more footsteps came up the stairs. Two sets this time.

Richard Morgan came through the door first. Then, Diane followed him. His face was completely blank.

"Nathan," Richard said, as he stretched his hand out. "My sincerest apologies."

I looked at his hand and didn't take it.

"Apologies for what. Giving me your other daughter? Getting me drunk and shoving a marriage certificate in front of me? Wrecking my engagement?"

His face didn't shift. He lowered his hand. "I understand you're upset. This must be confusing."

"Confusing." I laughed. "It's insane. Completely insane."

"I agree," Richard said. "My daughter has a habit of causing problems." His face gave a quiet melancholy expression–downturned, heavy-lidded eyes, a small downward curved mouth with furrowed eyebrows.

I looked at him, then at Olivia, who'd backed into the corner of the room, arms wrapped around herself, crying profusely. Something in me wanted to believe her but the evidence said otherwise.

"What's that supposed to mean," I said.

Richard sighed. The boardroom sigh. "Olivia has always been difficult. Jealous of Jessica. She has been her whole life. When she found out Jessica was marrying you, she got desperate and locked Jessica in the basement. That was when she stole the wedding for herself."

"That's not true," Olivia said, shaking. "That's not what happened."

"Quiet!" Richard didn't even look at her. He kept his eyes on me. "You should know. My daughter isn't well. Always been unstable. We tried therapy. She wouldn't go. This is just who she is."

"I'm not unstable," Olivia said, louder. "You're all lying!"

Diane stepped forward, face soft and worried. The picture of a concerned mother.

"Olivia," she said softly. "Please don't make this worse."

"Worse?" Olivia's voice cracked. "You sold me! And now you're standing here acting like I'm the crazy one?"

"We didn't sell you," Diane said gently. "We tried to help you. We've always tried."

"You locked me in my room when I was ten!" Olivia was breaking apart now. "Three days! With a bucket! Nobody checked on me. Not even once!"

Diane's face stayed exactly the same. "You broke a vase. You needed to learn something."

"I was ten years old!"

"Enough!" Richard's voice cut through, sharp, and he stepped between the two of them. The mask had slipped off his face now. Just cold underneath. "This is embarrassing. You're embarrassing yourself. Embarrassing this whole family."

"Embarrassing," Olivia repeated and laughed, hollow and broken. "Right. That's what this is about."

"This is about you ruining everything," Richard said. "Being selfish. Taking something that was never yours."

"It was never going to be mine anyway," she said. "You made sure of that a long time ago."

I looked at her wet face, her whole body shaking, like she might just fold up right there on the floor.

Then I looked at Richard. Cold and controlled. 

But the video. Jessica's face. Jessica's tears.

I still didn't know who to believe.

"This is a mess," I said quietly. "A complete mess."

"That's exactly what I was thinking." Patricia had been quiet, watching, and now she stepped in. "We annul this marriage. Right now."

"You can't," Richard said. "The merger's already moving. Contracts are signed. We pull out now, we lose everything."

"So? I'm just supposed to stay married to a stranger," I said. "Who may or may not have done any of what you're claiming?"

"For now," Richard said. "A year. One year. After that you quietly divorce. Nobody has to know anything. The merger goes through. Everyone gets what they came for."

"Everyone except me," Olivia said.

Richard didn't even glance at her. "Best solution on the table. Temporary. One year and we all move forward."

I looked at Olivia. She was staring at the floor now, not at her father, not at anyone. Her eyes were empty, like she'd already given up somewhere in the middle of all this.

"One year," I said, flat. "You want me married to her for a year."

"Yes."

"And what happens to her during that year."

"Not my concern," Richard said. "She married you. She's your problem now."

I looked at her again. Small and wrecked. Defeated in a way that made something in my chest twist even through all the anger.

"Fine," I said. The word tasted like nothing good. "One year. Then she's gone. Quietly. Nobody talks about this again."

"Agreed," Richard said.

"And she stays out of sight," Patricia added. "I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear her voice. She can live here, but she's invisible."

"Mother…"

"I mean it, Nathan. If she's staying she follows my rules. She doesn't leave her room. She doesn't talk to anyone. Doesn't go anywhere. She doesn't exist."

I looked at Olivia. Her eyes had closed. One tear slid down and she didn't bother wiping it away.

"I'll stay out of sight," she said, barely audible. "I'll do whatever's asked. Just don't throw me out."

"Nobody's throwing you out," Richard said, cold. "You're staying exactly where you belong."

"Out of the way," Patricia said.

"Out of the way," Richard agreed.

They turned to leave. Patricia first. Richard right behind. Diane lingered at the door for a second, looked back at Olivia with that same soft, worried-mother face.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," she said.

Then she left too.

The door shut.

I stood in the middle of the room with my head still pounding. Married. To a stranger. A stranger who might have just destroyed my entire life, or might not have done anything at all.

I looked at her. Still in the corner. Still crying. Still shaking.

"Olivia," I said.

Nothing.

"Olivia. Look at me."

She lifted her head. Eyes red and swollen and wrecked.

"One year," I said. "That's what you get. One year. Then you're gone."

"I understand," she said.

I walked to the door and stopped with my hand on the handle. Didn't turn around.

"Stay out of my way," I said.

"Out of my sight. Don't expect anything from me. Not kindness. Not warmth. Nothing at all. If you break this rule, you will feel my wrath."

"I don't expect anything," she said. "I stopped expecting things a long time ago.”