Chapter 4 #2
“You don’t understand, Sarah. This marriage contract practice has been passed down from generation to generation for several hundred years.
Back when fathers paid dowers with goats and women received hope chests.
In the days when societal standings and elevating class were the goal in marriage.
As society moved away from that, some families kept the practice as if it were holy.
I have two siblings and a whole lot of cousins.
Uncles, aunts, grandparents. All of whom have happily accepted this as their life.
My siblings were actually excited to meet the person of my parents’ choosing.
I can likely dig up instances like mine where someone has made waves in this archaic tradition if I tried but I’d wager a guess that they’re left off the family tree.
So, the chances that this woman is going to be like me and not a sheep like everyone else? ” I shake my head.
“Ah.”
“So… cold asshole.”
“Which you’re struggling with.”
“Big time.”
Once more, silence fills the room. The only sound is the occasional rustle of clothes as Sarah moves on to the second basket.
“I think you should do it,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“Nash’s plan.”
“You think so, do you?”
“Yes. You deserve to live your life the way you want to, Enfield. You deserve to be happy. So do what you need to do so you can live in peace and concentrate on being a father to your babies.”
“You’re not going to think less of me for hurting someone innocent in this, are you?”
“Nope. I think very little of your family for forcing this on you. As long as my daughter isn’t somehow tied up in this contract shit, do it.”
“She’s not. None of my kids are. My parents don’t acknowledge that I have children. I learned that with Ronan, and it was reinforced with Lissander.”
“Why did you decide to have a third?”
I shrug and shake my head. “To be honest, I have no idea. Maybe I wanted a girl and thought the third time was a charm.”
Sarah snorts. “Do it,” she encourages.
I nod absently as I rock Theodora gently.
My stomach flips at the idea. If I begin the process now, in a few months, this will all be over.
All of it. I’ll have my money. I’ll have my company shares.
I’ll be divorced from the nameless person who is admittedly an innocent bystander in this operation.
But if this is what it takes to get what’s mine and cut ties with my family?
When I leave Sarah’s apartment a couple hours later, I give Nash a call and tell him I’m on board.
I’m driving over to my parents’ house now to sign this shit before I lose my determination.
I request that he send me a scan of the clauses I need to make sure are in the contract, so I know where to look to ensure that they’re there.
I don’t imagine that they’ll be removed. But just in case.
Less than forty minutes later, I’m walking through my parents’ front door. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?”
I continue storming through the house calling for my parents. Since I don’t think any of us can remember the last time I entered their house looking for them, both of my parents meet me in the hall with looks of surprise.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Mom says, concern making her forehead wrinkle.
“What happened?” Dad asks.
“Give me the contract. I’ll sign it.”
My parents stare at me. No one moves. I’m not even sure they blink.
“Unless you finally ran out of families willing to sell their daughters over to be the wife of a miscreant.”
My mother snaps out of it. Visibly. She shakes her head and breaks out into a wide smile.
“Oh, thank goodness. Right this way. I have a new one all drawn up. This is a very wonderful family, one we’ve been looking to strengthen our bonds with for several generations.
I think you’re going to be very happy. Here,”—she turns and hands me several paper copies of the contract—“take your time and look it over.”
I immediately flip through it until I find the section Nash scanned to me. I read through the points, making sure the sections he underlined are there.
“Pen,” I demand.
My mother hesitates.
“You’re not going to read it?” my father asks.
“I truly don’t care who you’re subjecting to a miserable life. Give me a pen.”
My parents exchange a look.
“I’d feel better if you looked it over,” my mother says.
“Do you want me to sign this shit or not?” I demand.
My mother presses her lips together but returns to the desk in the corner. She comes back to me and offers a pen. “You really need to read it, Enfield. This is special. It’s different.”
“I don’t give a fuck what ninny you’re forcing on me,” I say and sit on the couch to sign the papers. Six sets. One for each of us, each set of parents, and two additional for the family lawyers. Mine will go straight to Nash.
Digitally, of course. I’m not stuck in the seventeenth century like my damn family customs are.
Finished, I get to my feet and hand all six sets to my mother. “Call me when they’re signed. I’ll pack my bags.”
“Enfield—” my father’s voice follows me as I leave the room. He doesn’t continue.
If my parents have learned anything over the last nine years, it should be that I don’t give in to their ancient traditions. They should be questioning why I have a sudden change of heart.
They don’t, and that works in my favor. As soon as I peel out of the driveway, I pull over and vomit on the side of the road.