Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Isla
Article I — Purpose of Agreement
In accordance with those terms, the parties agree to the following:
Enter into a legally binding marriage that shall remain in effect for a minimum term of six (6) months.
Upon completion of the contractual term, either party may dissolve the marriage without further obligation or penalty, provided all other clauses of this agreement have been fulfilled.
Should either party terminate the marriage or breach any term prior to the completion of the Contractual Term, all financial benefits outlined herein shall be forfeited…
I stop reading and slide the contract across the kitchen counter.
I don’t know why I’m torturing myself by reading the damned thing again.
As if I haven’t read the thirty-page document a gazillion times since William handed it to me.
It’s not like Knox Vale’s heinous asshole terms and conditions are going to change.
They were the same yesterday, and they will be the same tomorrow—D-Day.
I have until tomorrow at midnight to sign my life away.
It’s just past eight in the morning. Tomorrow at midnight feels impossibly far away, yet I know the hours will slip through my fingers. Time passes quickly when you’re having fun, and it flies faster when your life is about to detonate.
The smell of burnt toast clings to the air, and sunlight spills through the lace curtains like it has the nerve to pretend everything’s normal. I don’t know when I’ll ever experience normal again.
After the disastrous meeting yesterday, I came back here, to the family home, with Mom.
She needed my strength, but honestly, I wanted to hole up in my little apartment in the city and shut out the world. The shitty situation I’m in is the kind where you drown your sorrows in a bottle of wine, then pass out on your living room floor.
I haven’t even eaten. Every time I thought about eating, I felt sick. My stomach churned with the truth I was facing about my father.
I stare at the contract, at the words taunting me. Just like the man they came from with that smug look on his arrogant face.
Knox Vale already knew he’d won before he walked into that office. Heck, he didn’t even need to show up, but he probably wanted to witness our defeat.
The blue folder sitting next to the contract has all the dirt on my father. Evidence of what he did. William gave that to us, too.
Mom and I read through it the moment we got home.
Everything’s there. Printouts from various banks, scanned documents, tracking records, recordings, and file upon file incriminating my father.
Mom barely made it past the first file before she broke down. She looked like she might wither away right there in front of me. I had to stop her from going any further and encouraged her to head to bed early.
Thankfully, my cousin, Mia, came over later and stayed the night, offering a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear. But that didn’t stop me from going through the file over and over again once she’d gone to bed.
God, I even extended my search to the Internet to fill in the blanks on the past. There, I learned Knox took the blame for my father’s destructive misconduct in the Vale Global scandal.
No wonder he looked like he was ready to incinerate us.
The incident may have occurred eight years ago, but it was the kind of thing that could cause a lifetime of damage. I wondered how Knox found the new evidence and what else he might do to punish us.
I don’t know what bothers me more—Knox Vale or my father’s secret life.
The kitchen door swings open, and Mia shuffles in, yawning wide as she swipes her sleep-mussed blonde curls away from her face. The worn, oversized college sweatshirt she’s wearing hangs off one shoulder, so big it swallows her petite frame, like she borrowed it from someone twice her size.
“Morning.” She looks me over, then her gaze drifts over the documents on the counter and she frowns. “Isla, please don’t tell me you stayed up all night.”
I sigh with unease and slump over the counter, resting my cheek against the cool surface. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Jesus, Isla. Go get some sleep now. I can do whatever you need me to do.” She motions toward the door.
I sit up and shake my head, taking short, shallow breaths. “I can’t sleep. I don’t even feel tired.”
With a deep-set frown, she pads over to me.
She’s always taken it upon herself to look out for me.
She’s my cousin on my mother’s side. The girl who stepped into the role of big sister because she thought I needed one.
It worked because neither of us have siblings.
Ever since we were kids, she’s been the voice of reason and the one dragging me out of the messes I somehow always managed to land myself in.
She turns my laptop around so we can both see what’s glowing on the screen. It’s the last article I read about Knox. The one that’s been burning a hole in my screen for the past hour.
It’s a recent article. Less than a month old. At the top is the headline:
Knox Vale Makes Forbes Billionaires List at age 32.
Beneath is a picture of him stepping out of his Bugatti, all sharp lines and lethal elegance in an Armani suit, and a Patek Philippe strapped to his wrist that probably costs more than my rent for the year.
The shot looks professionally staged, something ripped straight from the pages of Vogue. It’s too perfect, too curated.
And that’s the thing about Knox. Even in a manufactured moment, there’s something dangerous simmering beneath the polished surface. Something that makes my pulse quicken despite every instinct screaming at me to look away.
Mia glares at me and taps on the edge of the keyboard. “Apart from the fact that the man looks like a Greek god, what exactly are you hoping to find?”
“Mia, please.” Of course, like most people with eyes, Mia would notice that Knox Vale is attractive as sin. I just don’t need the reminder.
“It’s true. All I’m seeing right now is a dangerously handsome man in a suit.” She waves a hand over the laptop screen like she’s showing off a jewel at auction. “And look at all that ex-linebacker muscle on his shoulders.”
Of course, Mia’s done her research, too. But in typical Mia fashion, she’s focused on all the wrong things.
Apparently, he earned the Monster nickname in college. Knox Vale, the fearless linebacker who demolished anything in his path. The articles online talk about him like he was some kind of legend. But all I see is a man who learned how to strike fear in everyone. Even his own teammates.
And that’s the guy I’m supposed to marry.
“I don’t care how good he looks. I’m trying to see what I’m up against. Knowledge is power.”
“Or your destruction,” she croons in that I’m-three-years-older-than-you-and-therefore-wiser tone I loathe.
I want to argue but don’t because she might be right. Everything I’ve read about Knox has either intimidated me or left me feeling guilty for what my father did.
I close my eyes and exhale like a condemned woman approaching the gallows. “God, I’m screwed.”
Mia places an arm around my shoulder and gives me a gentle squeeze. “You need to rest. That’s what you need. I know everything is crazy right now, but you need a clear mind. All you have is tomorrow to… you know. Think.”
I give her a thin stare. Surely, she knows there’s very little to think about here.
And I have thought. Everything under the sun has drifted through my mind with no resolutions. Heck, I’ve even thought of robbing a bank. Not that I a) would or b) could do such a thing.
Perhaps if I knew the same sort of unsavory people as my father, I’d have a shot. Since I don’t, I’m totally, utterly, absolutely screwed.
“Mia, there’s nothing to think about.” I bite the inside of my lip and gaze at her, taking in the worry on her face.
“My current options are: walk away and let my mother suffer or marry that asshole so I can afford my mother’s medical care.
Since I’m not the kind of person who would turn her back on her mom, we pretty much know what I have to do. ”
Her hand slips from my shoulder, and her chest caves. “I’m sorry. I was just …hoping for some other solutions. Maybe you could talk to Knox, see if he’d be willing to work something out.”
“Like what?” I widen my eyes at her. “What am I going to say to him? My father trapped me with not just a marriage clause but the damn six-month sale restriction. And a debt to a man he shouldn’t owe. What the hell am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know. Demanding marriage to pay a debt just seems so archaic.”
“Of course, it’s archaic. But it is what it is.”
“Maybe he’s just mad right now. Which is understandable.” She presses her lips together and places her hands on her cheeks. “Maybe when he calms down, he’ll consider allowing you to pay him back the loan in installments.”
“Installments? Do you know how long I’d be paying him back on my salary? It would take more than my lifetime.”
That is no exaggeration. My current job situation is shit. I’m not like Mia, who runs her own day-care center, or my friends from college, who are flying high in their careers.
I’m a scenic artist. I paint worlds that don’t exist, for people who’ll forget them the moment the curtain falls.
I had a steady job two years ago at a theater in Boston.
I was lucky to get it right after college.
Then the place burned to the ground, taking all my set designs and portfolio with it.
The building was so far gone no one even considered rebuilding.
Since then, it’s been freelancing gigs and temporary contracts, one backdrop at a time.
The job I have now is at a small theater on the edge of the city, and it isn’t even permanent. I’ve also been on part-time hours since Dad died.
“I can just about pay my rent,” I mutter. “There’s no way I could even dream of taking on anything else. And the restaurant is just making enough to pay the staff, pay the mortgage here, and Mom’s medical bills.”
What a mess.