CEO Handed a Single Dad a Wedding Invitation—Then Whispered, “You’re the Groom”
Chapter 9
We spent the next week rebuilding the past.
The trust had been created thirty years earlier.
The land was intended for community development.
But a clause allowed the land to transfer to a private corporation if no family representative remained.
That was why the marriage mattered.
If Victoria remained unmarried, Richard could take control.
If she married someone outside the family, the trust remained protected.
But there was a problem.
The trust needed proof of good-faith marriage.
If our marriage were exposed as fake, Richard could challenge it.
I looked at Victoria.
“So we have to convince the court we’re actually married.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“We are married.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know.”
We laughed.
It was strange.
The fake marriage had become real.
We ate together.
Worked together.
Argued about stupid things.
I discovered Victoria hated cooking.
She discovered I snored.
Lily discovered both of us were terrible at keeping secrets.
One night, she asked,
“Are you two in love?”
We both froze.
Victoria looked at me.
I looked at her.
Lily waited.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Victoria’s eyes widened slightly.
I squeezed her hand under the table.
“Yes.”
Lily nodded.
“Good.”
She went back to her drawing.
Later, Victoria came to my room.
“You answered for both of us.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because it was true.”
She stared at me.
“Was it?”
I stepped closer.
“Yes.”
She looked almost frightened.
“I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did I.”
She smiled.
“Me neither.”
Then she kissed me.
This time, there was no doubt.
We were falling in love.
But the next morning, Victoria collapsed during a board meeting.
She recovered quickly.
The doctors said it was exhaustion.
Yet Michael found something strange.
Her private medical records had been accessed.
Someone had changed one of her prescriptions.
A medication she had never taken.
A medication that could cause dizziness.
I stared at the records.
“They’re trying to make her look unstable.”
Victoria’s face hardened.
“If they can prove I’m medically unfit, they can challenge my position.”
“And transfer control to the spouse.”
She looked at me.
“Which means you.”
I understood.
They didn’t want me gone.
They wanted me blamed.
If Victoria became incapacitated, I would become the voting holder.
Then they could manipulate me.
Or frame me.
Then remove me too.
The plan was sophisticated.
But there was one flaw.
They had underestimated how much evidence our fathers had left.
We found another recording.
This one was from Victoria’s mother.
She said:
“Never trust Robert Hale.”
I looked at Victoria.
“Your mother’s attorney.”
“Yes.”
“She knew.”
The recording continued.
“Richard is not the architect of this. He is only the face.”
Victoria stopped breathing.
“Then who?”
Her mother’s voice answered.
“The person behind everything is the man who has been protecting the family for twenty years.”
The recording ended.
We stared at each other.
Robert Hale.
Our attorney.
Our families’ trusted adviser.
The man who had arranged our parents’ estates.
The man who knew every secret.
He was the real architect.
