The Inheritance Clause

Partners

Elena's stomach turned. "Sarah left?!"

"She left", Margot sighed, "and Dominic has buried himself in work and hasn't dated anyone seriously since. That was seven years ago."

Seven years. He spent seven years constructing walls and demonstrating his independence.

"Does he know you're telling me this?"

"Probably. Dominic knows everything." Margot pulled up more photos on her tablet. "Now, about the flowers. I'm thinking white roses and—"

"Margot." Elena put a hand on the tablet, stopping her. "Was he in love with her?"

The wedding planner's expression softened. "Honey, he was going to marry her. What do you think?"

Elena found Dominic on the street outside, standing by the car, staring at his phone like it held answers.

"Sarah," she said.

He didn't look up. "Margot has a big mouth."

"She's trying to help."

"By telling you my history?"

"By helping me understand why you're so determined to control this."

Finally, he looked at her. "I don't need your understanding."

"Maybe not. But you have it anyway." Elena moved closer. "Victoria destroyed your relationship. Now she's forcing you into another one. You must hate this."

"I don't hate anything. This is business."

"Liar."

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop lying."

They stood on the sidewalk while people streamed past, oblivious to the battle happening between two strangers about to become spouses.

"She was weak," Dominic said finally. "Sarah. She chose money over me. That's not love."

"She chose survival. There's a difference."

"Is there?" His eyes were hard. "You're marrying me for money too."

"I'm marrying you because my father wanted me to have what's mine. Because I can save my town. Because I'm tired of being broke and powerless." Elena held his gaze. "But I'm not doing it for the money alone. I'm doing it because I'm strong enough to survive your family. Sarah wasn't. That's not weakness. That's wisdom."

Something flickered in his expression. "You think you're strong enough?"

"I guess we'll find out."

A car honked. Someone bumped into Elena and muttered an apology. The city moved around them, indifferent to their drama.

"I need to get back to the office," Dominic said.

"Running away again?"

"I'm not running. I'm working. Some of us have jobs."

"I have a job too. Or I did. I need to call the principal and tell him I'm not coming back."

"You're quitting?"

"I'm taking a leave of absence. There's a difference."

"To do what? Plan our fake wedding full-time?"

Elena stepped closer. She got close enough to see the gold flecks in his dark eyes once more and smell his cologne, which made him uncomfortable.

She said quietly, "I want to learn how to run a company." "To figure out how to save Millbrook. To turn my father's shares into something that matters. And to make sure you don't steamroll me."

"I'm not—"

"You are. You've been doing it since I walked into that conference room—making decisions for me, controlling the narrative, threatening my mother." She poked him in the chest. "That stops now. We're partners. Fifty-fifty. Equal. Or this doesn't work."

His hand came up, caught her wrist. Not hard. Just firm enough to stop her.

"Partners," he said, "don't have secrets. So if we're doing this, really doing this, then I need to know: what do you want, Elena? Really want?"

She could feel his pulse under her fingers. Fast. His pulse was faster than it should have been for someone with such control.

"I want to prove my mother was wrong," she said. "That your family won't destroy me. That I can take what's mine and not lose myself."

"And?"

"And I want to see who you are when you're not terrified of being weak."

He dropped her wrist like it burned.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Not yet." She stepped back. "But I've got a year to learn."

Elena turned and walked back toward the boutique, leaving him standing on the sidewalk.

She made it five steps before he called after her.

"Elena."

She stopped but didn't turn around.

"Sarah left me a note," he said. "The morning she disappeared. Want to know what it said?"

Elena turned slowly.

Dominic's face was carefully blank, but his hands were clenched. "'I'm sorry. You deserve someone stronger.'"

"She was right."

His eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"

"You deserve someone stronger. Someone who won't run. Someone who'll fight your grandmother's ghost and your father's contempt and whatever else this family throws at us." Elena walked back to him. "Lucky for you, you're getting exactly that."

"You think you can handle it?"

"I know I can."

They stood there, two damaged people about to legally bind themselves together, and something shifted. Some unspoken acknowledgment that this was real now. Not just a contract. Not just money. They would have to fight a war together.

"Three weeks," Dominic said.

"Three weeks," Elena agreed.

"And then we're stuck with each other for a year."

"Looks like it."

He held out his hand. "Partners?"

She took it. His grip was firm and warm, and this time neither of them let go right away.

"Partners," she said.

Margot appeared in the doorway of the boutique, tablet in hand. "Are you two done having a moment? We need to discuss the cake, and I have another appointment scheduled in twenty minutes."

Elena laughed. Actually laughed. "We're done."

"For now," Dominic added.

They went back inside to plan their wedding.

That night, back in her hotel suite, Elena called her mother.

"I'm doing it," she said without preamble. "I'm marrying him."

Rosa was quiet for a long moment. "You're sure?"

"No. But I'm doing it anyway."

"Elena—"

"He's not Dad. And I'm not you. We can survive this."

"What if you can't?"

Elena looked out at Central Park, at the city glittering below, at the life she was about to step into.

"Then I'll fail with my eyes open," she said. "That's better than running."

"Is it?"

"I guess I'll find out."

After she hung up, Elena pulled out her father's letter again. Read it one more time.

Fight like hell, Elena.

She was about to.

Three weeks later, she'd be married to a man who'd threatened her mother and lost his fiancée to his grandmother's cruelty. Three weeks later, she'd be one of the richest women in America.

Three weeks later, her real life would begin.

But tonight, she was still just Elena Castellano from Millbrook, Vermont. Tomorrow, she'd start becoming someone else.

She folded the letter carefully and put it away.

Then she went to bed and dreamed of weddings and funerals and contracts signed in blood.

When she woke up, Dominic had sent her a text: The car picks you up at 7am. It's time to start learning about the family business.

No good morning. No pleasantries. Just orders.

Elena smiled and typed back: Make it 8. I'm not your employee.

His response came immediately: No. You're my wife. That's worse.

Not for three more weeks

Start practicing.

Elena threw the phone on the bed and laughed.

This was going to be hell.

She couldn't wait.