Chapter 7 Vulcan
Vulcan
The firehouse doors slam shut behind me.
“Captain Montgomery!” someone calls out.
I lift a hand in acknowledgment without breaking stride.
I make it to my office and slip inside, only to find a woman I never thought I’d see again sitting on the edge of my desk.
Minji Lee. What the hell is she doing here after all these years?
My father passed away five years ago, and Minji handled everything with his estate.
She was cold and efficient, the kind of woman who could make cutting you out of a will feel like a professional courtesy call.
The memories of that day unfold with startling clarity: the sterile conference room, the crisp sound of paper rustling as she went down the list, each item a precise bullet wound.
My mom got the old house, my sister the precious heirlooms my father had sworn he’d never part with, and me sitting there in stunned silence, empty-handed.
Minji’s voice was steady and impersonal, her eyes barely lifting from the document to gauge my reaction.
My father, a man I looked up to, even when he prioritized his job over his family, had left me nothing.
Not even a letter. I remember leaving that room, every expectation upended, feeling like he was a total a stranger.
It didn’t change how I felt about him as a father; I never wanted for anything and was showered with love my whole life. But it had thrown me for a loop.
As far as I knew, Minji’s involvement wrapped up back then, every loose end tied with the kind of precision only she could manage. I haven’t heard a word since, not even a whisper about anything left of his estate.
Yet, here she is.
Her very presence in this firehouse rips open the past, making the air crackle with a tension I’ve worked hard to forget. I can’t help but wonder what else she could possibly need from me.
“Minji.” I take a seat on the sofa. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?” My voice comes out more sarcastic than I intend, masking the anxiety that churns beneath the surface.
“Vulcan.” She greets me with the same calm detachment as all those years ago. But this time, I detect a slight annoyance in her tone. What the hell is going on? “I’ll get straight to the point: You’ve been ignoring me. I’m here about the inheritance your father left you.”
Ignoring her? I have no clue what she’s talking about. My mind struggles to catch up with her accusation, twisting through memories and possibilities. And—did she just say inheritance?
“You haven’t contacted me in five years. And if I remember correctly, my old man left me nothing.”
“Well, that was the case during the will hearing,” Minji replies.
“However, there was more I couldn’t share until the beginning of this year.
And you would have known, if you answered my calls or emails.
” Her demeanor, though professional, reveals a tangible exasperation.
It’s clear she’s not impressed with my communication habits—or, rather, the lack thereof.
I’m always on the move in my line of work, barely processing anything that isn’t an emergency. The world outside often blurs into background noise. I rake a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of how I let this slip by.
“Firefighting isn’t exactly conducive to diligent communication,” I admit. If her correspondence didn’t have FDNY in the subject or email address, I likely bypassed them.
“So, back to why I’m here,” Minji continues. “There is an inheritance, one whose conditions you must be aware of.”
“Conditions?” I repeat. I almost hear Dad’s voice, gruff and certain, outlining the terms from beyond the grave. I would not put it past the old man to have some elaborate scheme cooked up, waiting to spring it on me. Whatever this is, it’s bound to bring complications.
“Indeed,” she confirms, her lips curving into what might pass for a smile on anyone less formidable. “Let’s just say Thomas Montgomery wanted to ensure his legacy went beyond firefighting. And he has set a challenge for you, Vulcan. A test of sorts.”
“A test?” Fucking hell.
He couldn’t just do things the simple way? I feel a mix of anticipation and dread curling in my gut.
The whole situation makes a weird kind of sense. The old man’s passion for the department was boundless, but he always believed I should reach for more beyond its constraints.
I can almost imagine him smirking, having the last laugh at the way my life turned out—or didn’t turn out. To Dad, everything was a lesson, a chance to prove myself in ways that went beyond a helmet and hose. The sheer unpredictability of it gnaws at me, and maybe that’s the point.
If nothing else, he’s certainly succeeded in getting my attention. I stroke my beard in frustration. Minji watches me, and behind her detached professionalism, I sense she knows exactly how I’m reacting, how little I understand this sudden shift.
“Yes, a test.” She clasps her hands. “But it’s not without its… prerequisites.”
“Prerequisites?” I frown.
“Mr. Montgomery stipulated that you must be married to claim the inheritance,” she says, and I swear my heart skips a beat. Married? I can’t even manage a coffee date.
“I don’t remember him being particularly sentimental about matrimony.” Don’t get me wrong, he never cheated on my mom. He was just rarely home to make the marriage work.
“Sentiment had little to do with it,” Minji remarks, her dark eyes scrutinizing me. “It’s about stability, lineage… perhaps control.” She pauses, letting her words sink in. That sounds like my old man for sure.
“Control doesn’t die with the man, huh?” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was my father thinking?
“Apparently not,” she replies. “You have two months to meet this condition.”
“Two months?!” My pulse hammers in my throat. “Why so damn soon?”
“Your fortieth birthday is the cut-off,” Minji explains. “That’s why I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. I even reached out to your mother, who told me she would pass on my message, but I can see that didn’t happen either.”
Damn it. I’ve been dodging the sticky notes around my office. I swore I would call her back, but the station needed me. If it was something serious Val would have reached out.
“So, if I don’t find someone willing to tie the knot by October, what then?”
“The inheritance reverts to a trust fund for firefighters’ widows and orphans,” she states, and my eyes widen. “A noble cause, undoubtedly, but one that would leave you without the benefits your father intended specifically for you.”
“Benefits?” I ask, my mind racing. What could be so important that Dad set up a marital obstacle course? “What are we talking about here? His collection of antique helmets?”
“Far from it,” Minji says, tapping a file on the desk. “The inheritance is substantial enough to change lives, fund projects, secure futures. I don’t know how Thomas Montgomery was able to keep this a secret, but it’s over fifty million dollars.”
“It’s what?” Sure, we were well off growing up, but this? I’m stunned. The number ricochets around in my skull, and I feel like I’ve been thrown into one of those cheesy game shows, only this is dead serious. I can’t fathom how this slipped under my radar. “Are you sure?”
I remember Dad’s tendency to play things close to the chest, always the strategist, but fifty million dollars?
My mind races as I try to connect the pieces, the magnitude of it all threatening to flatten me.
We certainly never struggled, not after he became chief, and Mom used to make offhanded comments about how he’d come from old money, but as far as we knew, he didn’t have a relationship with his family.
Not after he married our mother and they cut him off, but that’s a different, messier story than I have space for right now.
It crossed my mind once more when he transferred over the deed to my penthouse after I became a firefighter, two years after graduating from college.
And any penthouse in this city is fucking expensive.
Thankfully, I own it, but the upkeep is costly too.
If it weren’t for the trust my mom set up when I was younger, I wouldn’t be able to afford the utilities, even with my salary.
But this kind of money? Holy shit.
“Yes,” she continues. “I was even surprised by the amount. I mean, it was less significant back then, but over time and with interest, well… it’s substantial.”
I stare at her for a long moment, my brain refusing to process this bombshell. Substantial doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s universe-altering. Identity-shattering.
“Did he obtain this money through shady business dealings? I don’t want to inherit money if—”
“It’s all above-board. He had a lot of investments, Vulcan.
” Minji’s voice softens just a fraction.
“Your father may have been… complicated. Maybe even a tiny bit of an asshole to have set up this whole thing. And while I can’t make assumptions about his reasoning, his intentions were clear.
He believed in you, in your capacity to lead and to love. ”
“Lead, I can do,” I concede, my chest tight. “Love? That’s a battlefield I’m not sure I’m equipped to navigate, especially not under a deadline.”
“Nevertheless, the choice is yours,” she says. “I will assist you in any way I can, should you decide to accept this… challenge.”
I rub the bridge of my nose, tension knotting between my brows.
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin. To find a woman while still trying to get everything under control here?” I gesture around my office. “I don’t think—”
“Which is why I’m here.” Minji leans forward. “To offer guidance, resources… perhaps even candidates, if you’re open to such suggestions.”
“Are we talking about matchmaking now?” The corner of my mouth twitches, humor a feeble shield against the rising tide of desperation. She wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t already have something in place.
“Consider it part of the comprehensive legal services I provide. I’ve spent the past few months collating potential candidates in the event you might need it, and while I’ve been waiting for you to return my calls”—she pauses, long enough to drive home her point—“I managed to narrow it down some. Time is of the essence. Are you dating someone? That would help expedite this process. After all, millions are on the line.”
“Two months…” My voice trails off. The reality hits me like a four-alarm blaze—hot, fast, and unyielding. “I honestly don’t think I can do this. At least not by October.” I don’t think any woman in her right mind would want to do this. Shit.
“Your father knew you’d be shaken,” she says softly. “But he also knew the strength of your character, Vulcan. You’ve dedicated your life to bearing others’ burdens. This is one you shouldn’t carry alone.”
“Strength of character doesn’t put a ring on my finger, Minji.
” I pause, thinking over my next words. “And it doesn’t change the fact that I’m being strong-armed into matrimony by a man who couldn’t make his own marriage work.
” My parents divorced when I was eighteen.
My mom went on to remarry, moved to England, and took my baby sister with her.
Valkyrie eventually returned to New York, but my mother stayed in the UK and Father never remarried.
He dedicated his life to the fire department.
So, the question once again is, why the fuck is he doing this to me?
“True,” she concedes, “but it does give you the opportunity to redefine what marriage means to you. And as for support…” She rises.
“You have mine, unequivocally. Whether you choose to pursue this inheritance or not, I’ll be there to assist you and advise you of the next steps if it reverts to a trust.”
“Thanks, Minji. I guess I need to figure out my next move.”
“Take your time,” she advises, then tilts her head in consideration. “But not too much. Remember, two months can pass in the blink of an eye.”
“Right.” A wry chuckle slips out. Two months.
Sixty days to find a bride and claim an inheritance I didn’t even know existed.
Minji strides confidently toward the door.
Right then and there, something within me shifts from dread to determination.
My father may have set the board, but it’s my game to play.
“Minji,” I call out before she can leave. “One more thing, make sure those candidates you mentioned are thoroughly vetted, will you?”
“Of course,” she confirms, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You’ll have them by morning.”
As the door shuts behind her, I lean against the sofa.
My hands find their way to my temples, fingers massaging in a vain attempt to stave off the headache building.
Two fucking months. A marriage of convenience?
The very idea seems ludicrous. Yet there it sits, an uninvited guest at the table of my future, demanding attention.
Find a bride.
Then there’s Karina.
This marriage stipulation changes everything. As much as it annoys me, I know I need to keep my distance from her now. The last thing I want to do is string someone along.
My phone lights up with a text. It’s from Karina, asking if I’m free to have coffee tomorrow before her shift at the hospital.
I sigh heavily, the weight of this decision dragging me down.
She is far too good, too pure, to get tangled up in this mess.
I can’t ask her to stick beside me through it.
That’ll make me the biggest asshole of the century.
And an asshole is something I’m not—well, I try not to be.
As I type out the message I know I need to send, a feeling of loss settles over me. Even the fleeting moments we’ve shared have filled me with more joy and comfort than I’ve felt in years.
I hit send before I can change my mind. The decision has been made, and there’s no going back.