Chapter 3: The Three Mandates

Barrister Dash unclasped the brass locks on his worn leather briefcase, the soft click echoing through the grand parlor.

The room fell silent. No one reached for their tea. The children, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere, gradually quietened under their mothers' watchful eyes. Outside, the distant chirping of birds drifted through the open windows, but inside the Wellington mansion, the silence felt almost oppressive.

Salma folded her hands on her lap and drew a slow breath.

Across the room, the eight women Arthur Wellington had married over the course of his life sat in composed silence, each wearing the carefully practiced expression expected of a grieving widow. Yet behind the black dresses, expensive jewelry, and whispered condolences, another emotion lingered beneath the surface.

No one wanted to be the first to ask about the will. But it was the reason they had all come.

Beside Barrister Dash, Salma's mother sat with effortless poise, her expression unreadable. Twenty years had passed since she'd last lived under this roof, yet she carried herself with the quiet authority of someone who had never truly surrendered her place. Around the room, the other wives avoided looking at her for too long, though none of them could pretend she wasn't there.

Barrister Dash adjusted his glasses before carefully removing a thick cream-colored document sealed with the Wellington family crest.

"This," he announced, his measured voice carrying effortlessly across the room, "is the Last Will and Testament of the late Arthur Wellington Bush."

Every eye fixed on him as he began with the formalities.

Arthur's charitable foundations would continue to receive funding. Long-serving employees were rewarded for their loyalty. Several properties were donated to educational institutions and medical charities, while generous trust funds were established for household staff who had served the family faithfully for decades

The tension in the room eased ever so slightly.

Then Barrister Dash turned another page.

"And now," he said, "to my daughter..." Salma instinctively straightened. "...my only biological child, Salma Wellington."

The room became still once more. Even the wives who had spent years pretending not to know the truth couldn't stop themselves from exchanging fleeting glances.

Barrister Dash continued reading.

"To my daughter, I leave Wellington Group, every controlling share held in my name, all executive authority attached to those holdings, and every asset listed in Schedule A of this document."

A collective breath escaped the room. For the first time that morning, several of Arthur's widows forgot to hide their disappointment.

Barrister Dash paused.

"There is, however, one condition."

Salma felt her stomach tighten.

"I have always believed that empires survive only when there is someone worthy enough to inherit them. Therefore, before my daughter assumes full ownership of my estate and the permanent position of Chief Executive Officer of Wellington Group, she must first fulfil the conditions outlined in this will."

A murmur rippled through the room.

Salma frowned. Her father loved conditions.  She had learned that long ago. Barrister Dash glanced toward the double doors before calmly folding the page in his hand.

"The first condition," he said evenly, "requires the presence of three individuals chosen personally by the late Mr. Wellington."

Every conversation stopped.

Salma followed his gaze toward the entrance just as the heavy oak doors began to open. Three men walked into the grand parlor with measured, unhurried steps, each dressed in a tailored black suit that matched the solemnity of the occasion. They carried themselves with a quiet confidence that immediately drew every eye in the room. Without exchanging a single word, they stopped a few feet in front of Salma, standing shoulder to shoulder as though they had rehearsed the moment countless times.

A murmur swept through the room.  Salma stared at them in confusion.

The first was strikingly handsome, his expression calm and composed, beside him stood a broad-shouldered man his posture disciplined enough to betray years of rigorous training. The third looked younger than the others, his relaxed stance and easy smile almost at odds with the tension filling the room.

None of them looked familiar.  Yet none of them looked surprised to be there.

Barrister Dash waited for the whispers to die down before unfolding the next page of the will.

"As stipulated by the late Arthur Wellington Bush, the three gentlemen standing before Miss Salma Wellington were personally selected and prepared over several years to serve as suitable life partners and future fathers to the next generation of the Wellington family."

A few eyebrows lifted around the room.

Salma blinked.  Life partners?

Her gaze shifted from one stranger to the next, her thoughts racing. Was her father seriously trying to arrange her marriage after his death?

She opened her mouth to speak, but Barrister Dash continued before she could interrupt.

"Miss Salma Wellington shall, within three weeks of the reading of this will, enter into legally binding marriages..."

He paused.

The silence stretched so long that Salma could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock.

"...with all three men."

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the grand parlor erupted.

"What?"

"This is ridiculous!"

"Arthur has finally lost his mind!"

The widows spoke over one another, their carefully maintained composure shattering for the first time that morning. Even the older children stared at one another in stunned disbelief, while the younger ones looked around the room, confused by the sudden commotion.

Salma remained frozen.

She looked at the three men again, half expecting one of them to laugh and admit it was all some elaborate misunderstanding. None of them did.

Barrister Dash raised a hand, patiently waiting for the room to settle before continuing.

"The marriages shall remain in effect for one calendar year. During that period, all four parties shall reside under the same roof, as specified in Appendix C of the will."

Salma felt the blood drain from her face. Live with them? All three of them? Barrister Dash's voice remained calm, almost detached, as he read the next clause.

"At the conclusion of the contractual year, Miss Salma Wellington shall be free to dissolve all three marriages, remain married to one husband of her choosing, or pursue any future relationship she desires. However, should she fail to fulfill the terms of this agreement, control of the Wellington estate, her appointment as Chief Executive Officer, and every asset designated to her shall remain inaccessible."

He looked up briefly before reading the final condition.

"The husband who proves most worthy of continuing the Wellington bloodline by fathering a biological heir shall receive priority should Miss Wellington decide to retain only one husband after the contractual period."

The room fell silent again. This time, the silence was heavier than before.

Salma's fingers tightened around the armrest of her chair until her knuckles turned white.

Arthur knew.

He had always known she had no interest in men. Yet even from the grave, he had managed to tie her inheritance, her career, and the future of the Wellington empire to three complete strangers. Her father hadn't simply written a will. He had designed a prison.

"What kind of madness is this?" Eby was the first to find her voice.

"I knew Arthur was eccentric, but this?" Christy exclaimed, throwing both hands into the air. "This is insanity!"

"You expect us to believe a court would uphold something like this?" Kristen demanded.

Within seconds, the grand parlor dissolved into chaos.

Questions flew across the room. Some directed at Barrister Dash, others at Salma, while a few of Arthur's widows argued among themselves as though someone in the room had written the will instead of the man lying in a mausoleum.

Only Salma's mother remained silent.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers loosely intertwined in her lap, watching the spectacle unfold with an expression that bordered on amusement.

Diva noticed it first.

"You knew," she said quietly. The room fell silent again. Every pair of eyes shifted to Salma's mother. She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she reached for the teacup the maid had poured earlier and took an unhurried sip.

"I knew Arthur was planning something," she admitted at last. "I just didn't know it would be this."

Eby's eyes widened. "You knew and you said nothing?"

"What exactly was I supposed to say?" Salma's mother asked calmly. "The will was sealed months ago. Even Arthur couldn't change it after the final draft."

The explanation did little to calm the room.

"If this is some sort of joke—" Poppy started 

"It isn't," Barrister Dash interrupted, his voice firm enough to cut through the rising arguments. "The document before you has already been reviewed, witnessed, notarized, and registered in accordance with the law. Mr. Wellington spent years preparing it. Every condition has been examined by multiple legal teams."

He allowed the statement to settle before continuing. "There are no procedural defects."

Salma finally found her voice. "There has to be a way around it."

Barrister Dash met her eyes with genuine sympathy. "I searched for one."

"You... searched?" She replied.

"I was instructed to execute your father's wishes, Miss Wellington. Before agreeing, I examined every clause myself. I challenged the language, questioned the conditions, and consulted independent counsel."

He sighed. "I lost every argument."

A bitter laugh escaped Salma before she could stop it. "You're telling me my father legally arranged three marriages from beyond the grave?"

"I'm telling you," Barrister Dash replied gently, "that Arthur Wellington anticipated every objection you are about to raise."

He opened the file once more and withdrew a second folder.

"This contains the marriage agreements, the trust documents, the transfer of executive authority, and the inheritance schedule."

He placed the folder on the table. "They are all connected.

Salma stared at the stack of papers. "So if I refuse..."

"You will retain your personal assets," Barrister Dash said. "Everything already registered in your name remains yours."

He paused. "But Wellington Group..."

His eyes settled on hers. "...the controlling shares, the voting rights, your appointment as Chief Executive Officer, the private investment portfolios, the family trusts, and every asset specifically left to you under this will will remain locked in trust until the conditions are fulfilled."

The words landed with crushing finality. Arthur hadn't threatened her freedom. He had threatened the one thing he knew she would never willingly abandon.

The empire.

Salma slowly lifted her eyes to the three men still standing before her. Not one of them had spoken, as though they'd known this moment was coming all along. For the first time since Barrister Dash began reading the will, one question eclipsed every other thought in her mind.

Who exactly had her father chosen to become her husbands?