A Billionaire Heiress Walked Into My Clinic and Gave Me 3 Days to Marry Her… Then I Discovered Why
Chapter 3
The wedding took place the next afternoon.
There was no church.
No flowers.
No guests.
Just a courthouse, two lawyers, a judge, and a woman wearing a simple cream-colored dress.
Ethan wore the only suit he owned.
Charlotte stood beside him.
When the judge asked if he accepted her as his wife, Ethan looked at her.
She looked frightened.
Not nervous.
Frightened.
“I do.”
Charlotte whispered:
“I do.”
The judge smiled.
“Congratulations.”
It was strangely anticlimactic.
They walked outside.
Rain fell over the courthouse steps.
Charlotte looked at Ethan.
“You’re my husband.”
“For six months.”
“Right.”
“Unless we decide otherwise.”
She smiled faintly.
“Right.”
A black sedan waited for them.
Ethan stopped.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
“I have an apartment.”
“You’re married now.”
“I know.”
“My father insisted that the trust required us to live together.”
Ethan sighed.
“Of course he did.”
Charlotte smiled.
For the first time since she had entered his clinic, she looked slightly amused.
The Whitmore estate was enormous.
Iron gates opened automatically.
The mansion sat behind a long driveway surrounded by trees.
Ethan stepped inside.
“You’re going to hate this.”
“Probably.”
She showed him the guest room.
“Your room.”
“Where’s yours?”
“Opposite hallway.”
“Good.”
She nodded.
Then she stopped.
“Ethan.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He looked at her.
“You haven’t told me everything.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m scared.”
He had expected almost any answer except that.
“Of what?”
“That you’ll discover the truth and leave.”
“I signed the papers.”
“People leave even after signing papers.”
She walked away.
That night, Ethan couldn’t sleep.
At around two in the morning, he heard footsteps.
He opened his door.
The hallway was empty.
Then he saw a shadow disappear around the corner.
Ethan followed.
He reached the library.
The door was slightly open.
Inside, Charlotte stood beside a bookshelf.
“What are you doing?”
She turned sharply.
“I heard something.”
“Someone was here.”
She nodded.
Ethan looked around.
The library contained hundreds of books.
A massive portrait of Alexander Whitmore hung above the fireplace.
Ethan approached it.
Something caught his eye.
The frame was slightly crooked.
He touched it.
It moved.
Behind the painting was a small safe.
Charlotte stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“Your father’s house?”
“Yes.”
Ethan examined the safe.
A combination lock.
Four digits.
Charlotte tried her birthday.
Nothing.
Her father’s birthday.
Nothing.
The year he founded the company.
Nothing.
Ethan stared at the photograph of his father.
Then he remembered something.
His father used to tell him a strange story when he was young.
“Sometimes the most important doors don’t open with keys.”
Ethan entered the year his father died.
The safe opened.
Charlotte stepped backward.
Inside was a small envelope.
Her hands shook.
She opened it.
There was a single flash drive.
And a handwritten note.
Michael was right.
Ethan stared.
“What does that mean?”
Charlotte turned the note over.
On the back were three words.
Trust the doctor.
Ethan frowned.
“I’m the doctor.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He looked at the handwriting.
“This isn’t your father’s handwriting.”
Charlotte stared.
“How do you know?”
“My father taught me to recognize it.”
“Why?”
“Because he used to write me notes.”
Ethan’s heart began pounding.
“This was written by my father.”
Charlotte looked at him.
“Then your father knew about the marriage.”
“Maybe.”
“Before he died.”
Ethan inserted the flash drive into a nearby computer.
A single folder appeared.
PROJECT MERIDIAN.
Inside were dozens of files.
The first document contained a list of names.
The second contained financial transfers.
The third contained photographs.
And the fourth contained a photograph of Charlotte.
Taken when she was twelve.
Ethan opened the next file.
It was about him.
His medical school.
His clinic.
His bank account.
His patients.
Someone had been watching him for years.
Charlotte whispered:
“They knew you’d come.”
