Chapter 4 — Apply With Me
1119 Words
Rowan did not speak to me during the drive back.
He did not need to. Suspicion filled the van efficiently.
By four that afternoon, the state had sealed the annex, Helios had placed me on administrative leave, and Cole had changed the locks on the condo we shared.
My clothes were still inside. So were my passport, my mother’s drafting pencils, and every paper copy of the Cedar plans.
Cole sent one message.
COME HOME AND WE CAN CONTAIN THIS.
I deleted it.
Then I went to a lawyer.
Leah Chen’s office occupied the second floor above a bakery in Pioneer Square. She had represented county engineers in a procurement scandal three years before. In my first life, she died when a biometric lock trapped her in the underground transit concourse.
Today she wore a navy suit and told me my idea was appalling.
“Marriage is not a discovery tool,” she said.
“The trust is.”
“The trust is a dead billionaire’s attempt to control his adult son.”
“That makes two of us who dislike it.”
Rowan sat at the far end of the conference table, evidence case by his boots. I had asked him to come. He had brought his own attorney, Gabriel Shaw, which was the first sensible thing either of us had done all day.
Gabriel opened a thin file. “The Mercer Resilience Trust holds thirty-four percent of Helios voting stock. Rowan satisfied the age and separation conditions years ago. He has maintained an independent primary residence for eighteen months.”
“The final condition,” Leah said, “requires a lawful spouse who joins that household outside Mercer company property.”
I looked at Rowan. “Your father wrote a marriage trap.”
“My father wrote several,” he said. “This one had the best stationery.”
His dryness surprised a laugh out of me.
It vanished when he looked at my cut arm.
“You are proposing a real marriage,” Leah continued. “Not a staged photograph. Not a private promise. Washington license, statutory waiting period, qualified officiant, two witnesses, property consequences, dissolution consequences.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Rowan asked.
I slid a page across the table.
It showed the Helios board agenda scheduled for the following Thursday. In my first life, I had designed the map attached to Item Seven: TRANSFER OF MUNICIPAL CONTINUITY ASSETS.
“Cole will sell exclusive shelter operating rights to a Mercer subsidiary,” I said. “The motion requires two-thirds approval. Your released vote can block it.”
“Block,” Gabriel emphasized. “Not reverse. Thirty-four percent does not make Rowan a controlling shareholder. It may stop this transaction and support a records demand under the bylaws and shareholders’ agreement. It will not let him fire Cole on Friday.”
“I do not need him fired on Friday,” I said. “I need the shelter records preserved before Thursday.”
Leah tapped the agenda. “And if the independent trustee concludes this marriage was entered solely to manipulate the distribution?”
“Every marriage affects property,” Gabriel said. “The question is whether the stated residence and household are real. Rowan already lives outside company housing. Mara would need genuine occupancy, independent advice, and enforceable rights there. No hotel-room theater.”
Rowan looked at me. “You would move into Cedar.”
The depot had been the safest place in Seattle until my map opened it.
“Yes.”
“You answered too quickly.”
“I have had longer to think about Cedar than you know.”
The silence that followed was not romantic. It was the first honest measurement of what this arrangement would cost. He would give a suspected liar access to his home. I would sleep inside the building I had once helped destroy. If either of us mistook necessity for trust, people beyond this room would pay for it.
Gabriel read the page. “This agenda is not public.”
“It will be distributed tomorrow.”
Rowan’s gaze sharpened. “Another prediction.”
“Verify it tomorrow.”
“And if it is real?”
“We apply for the license. We use the waiting period for due diligence. We marry when the license becomes valid. The trustee certifies. You block the transfer and demand the Aegis books.”
“What do you get?”
“Inspection access through my Cedar engineering license. Independent housing. Shared counsel, preserved evidence, and records rights before Cole manufactures a theft charge. The marriage itself gives me no immunity.”
“Protection,” Rowan repeated.
“Procedural leverage. Not spousal immunity and not a bodyguard.”
Something in his shoulders eased.
Leah pushed a yellow pad toward me. “Before you romanticize this into a clever escape, write what happens if he becomes unsafe.”
I wrote separate accounts. Separate bedrooms. Independent counsel. No s****l obligation. Revocable medical authority. Guaranteed transport. Twelve months of market-rate housing placed in escrow. No control of my professional license. No access to my body, communications, or location without consent.
Rowan took the pen when I finished.
He added: No party may condition food, shelter, employment, physical safety, or legal assistance on romantic or s****l conduct.
Then: Either party may publish this agreement if the other misrepresents it.
I looked at him.
“You have experience with family press releases,” I said.
“I have experience being the family press release.”
Gabriel checked the county website. “If the application and payment are finalized tomorrow, the license cannot be used until Friday. No waiver.”
“Friday is enough,” I said.
Rowan leaned back. “You are asking me to marry my brother’s fiancée four days after she testifies against him.”
“Former fiancée.”
“The distinction will comfort the tabloids.”
“I am asking you to inspect records that will otherwise disappear.”
“By marrying you.”
“Unfortunately.”
His eyes moved over my face, searching for the trap.
“Apply with me tomorrow,” I said. “If the agenda is not real, you walk away before the license can be used.”
My phone rang.
The screen showed an unknown number. Leah answered on speaker after recording consent.
“Ms. Vale,” a man said, “this is Detective Aaron Bell, Seattle Police. Helios Continuity has filed a complaint alleging theft of protected resilience data and conspiracy to damage critical infrastructure. We need you and Rowan Mercer to surrender the evidence device immediately.”
Rowan’s gaze never left mine.
“It appears,” he said, “my brother received your proposal.”
- Writer
