By the time I got home from the courthouse, my phone looked like it was trying to self destruct. Fortytwo missed calls. Dozens of texts. A string of frantic emails from my PR director marked URGENT.
I barely had time to put my bag down before I hit the first voicemail.
"Mia, it's David from the board. We all just saw the news. Tell me this is a joke."
The second was worse.
"This is Fiona. Our investors are asking if you've merged with Wolfe Enterprises. They think the marriage announcement is a signal. You need to clarify today."
By the third, my mother's voice filled the room, warm and furious all at once.
"Mia Constanza Cross, you got married without telling me? Without us? No church? No family? No white dress? What is wrong with you?"
I hung up before she could start listing the
