I married the She-devil

The unlikely Bargain

About a month has passed since I found out that Trent does not give a s**t about me, and I slept with my lawyer. Dave and I agreed it was a mistake, and since then, we have decided to keep it professional.

The case with my uncle has not gotten easier at all. Owen was getting on the good side of the other board of trustees of the estate.

The bell rings again for the third time. Actually, I had been waiting for Mary to answer it, but it looks like she is not around. I make my way to the door, and the last person on earth I’d expect to see at my house is, in fact, on the other side of the door—Trent.

Trent is standing in my house. I am so confused, but a lot has changed with me over the last month, especially after my night with Dave. I did not see Trent the way I did before. It was like a veil had fallen off my eyes. Trent had been the only man I had ever thought of in my entire life, but now it’s different.

“Hey, Sarah,” Trent said, his voice soft.

I do not reply but gently nod my head at him.

“Look, I know everything seems bad, but I can explain…”

“No, Trent. You cannot explain. I am not interested in whatever lie it is you have for me,” I cut him short.

I had used the past month to heal myself. I was definitely not interested in opening any fresh wounds again.

“Listen, Sarah, it is not what you think it is. I do not love Priscilla.”

Oh, her name is Priscilla. Damn, that is a good name.

“I do not want to hear it, Trent. Save it.”

“There could still be an us. There is still an us,” Trent continued.

In all my years with Trent, I had never seen him so soft before. It was almost like there were things he wanted to say but just could not bring himself to.

Trent wants to keep talking, but he sees this isn’t going anywhere, so he turns to leave. Before he leaves, he removes what seems to be his engagement ring from his finger and throws it in the garbage bin.

I never knew why things had to be so complicated for me. Why couldn’t life just be straightforward for once?

In the coming weeks, Trent did not give up on his quest to get my forgiveness. Randomly showing up at my house and sending me gifts. It was all getting quite annoying—until one day.

Our court case wasn’t going anywhere. The judge didn’t seem very convinced that I had legal rights to the estate. It did not help that my dad did not exclusively leave a will.

Dad was always a free-hearted man. He trusted the people around him a little too much. He was too blinded to see the animal he called a brother, even though the signs were staring him in the face.

So it looked like my fate was left with the board of trustees. I had to make them see me as extremely valuable.

Dave had set up a meeting with some investors who were willing to invest in the estate on my terms. This would be a huge game changer for me because one of the advantages my uncle had over me in this tussle was that it did not seem like I could bring anything to the table. Well, all that was about to change.

We got to the office of the investors, and after waiting for about 30 minutes, the secretary finally walked up to us and said, “Mr. Harrington will see you now.”

I froze immediately when I heard that surname. Could it be? Surely no.

There are a billion people on this planet; the one person who can help my cause could not possibly be my ex-boyfriend, who dumped me for another woman.

We made our way into the office, and sure enough, it was Trent Harrington who stared at us from the chair behind the desk.

Dave started off with, “Mr. Carrington, we are honored to be with you today…” Then I cut him off.

“I’m sorry, I cannot do this.”

I stood up, ready to leave, and Dave had the most distressed look on his face. He apologized to Trent and pulled me into a sidebar.

“What are you doing, Sarah? You are going to mess this up for us. Do you know how long it took me to set up this meeting?”

I felt sorry for Dave, but there was no way I was sitting through a meeting with Trent, much less asking for his help.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dave. Do you mind if I speak to Miss Richmond privately?” Trent spoke up.

Dave looked between Trent and me, his face as confused as possible, but then he leaves the office.

There is, first of all, a very awkward silence between us before I break it.

“I do not need your help, Mr. Harrington.” I try to sound as professional as possible. The only other time I called him “Mr. Harrington” was when we were being naughty in the other room.

I remembered that, and my face flushed red instantly. I think he knew because a small smile played across his lips for a very brief second.

I quickly pulled my composure back together and continued.

“I do not need you as an investor in our estate, and we will not be accepting your help.”

“That’s good,” Trent said casually, that small smile playing back on his face.

“I am not interested in coming into your estate as an investor.”

What kind of games was he playing? Did he think this was some sick joke?

“So why the hell am I in your office?” I responded, slowly losing my patience now.

“Because… Miss Richmond, I want you to marry me, and I know you want it too.”

At this point, the only thing stopping me from slapping that smile off his face was the fact that this was his office, and I would rather not have to be escorted out by security.

“Are you out of your mind? Why in God’s green earth would I want to marry you?”

Trent does not reply again. Instead, he hands me a newspaper that has been sitting on his desk this whole time. I take a look at the front page, and it reads, “Richmond estate holders to hold vote on new Chairman of the estate: Owen Richmond, the media’s favorite.”

It was just a stupid newspaper, but I knew it was right. That is exactly why David set up this meeting. This was our last straw. If my uncle became chairman, I would lose everything my father worked so hard to build.

“In the last few months, I had taken over from my father, and I’m now the CEO of the Harrington Conglomerate. It is a company worth over a billion dollars, Sarah.”

“If you were to be affiliated with me in any form, that would do your PR a world of good.”

“I would save you the horror. It is a contract marriage, and it would last for only a year. That should give you enough time to build your status and completely take over the estate,” Trent concluded.

He was right. I hated that he was right.

Without saying another word, he got down on one knee with a ring in his hand and said that four-worded sentence I had always dreamt of hearing from him all these years.



“Will you marry me, Sarah Richmond?”