Page 114 of Perfect Satisfaction

She’s devastated by what she perceives as my infidelity.

Our exchange the other night whispers through my mind.

“Do you think so little of me?”

“No, myself.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Why? What do I have to offer the world? I’m merely a conduit to money, financial security.”

Resolute, I realize it’s past time to put our marriage in order—whatever it takes. Even if that means losing Sula for good.

Standing, I move over to the hidden safe covered by a picture of the jetty behind my grandfather’s cabin in Maine. Quickly keying in the code, I drag out the contract, bring it over to my desk, and read every word from cover to cover.

Then I make a phone call.

Once I’m put through, I explain what I need before pleading, “Can you come here?”

“Absolutely.”

“When?”

“Give me ten minutes to arrange for David to pick up Ben.”

“I’ll clear you to come up.” I hang up on Carys and immediately call our receptionist to grant her a pass to enter our office.

Then I wait.

We end up ordering a pizza as Carys reviews the contract line by line. “Fortunately for you, I’ve seen other parts of this estate.”

My hopes lift. “You have?”

“Hmm. To say West Moore was a bastard is putting it mildly.” Carys takes a sip of her ginger ale. “How was it phrased to me? Ah, yes. Sula said the day of the reading, ‘If he was unconvinced of his case, he would have at least left me a dollar for every year I was cursed with being his fucking daughter.’”

“You were there?” I hope against hope this strong woman was present to support Sula, but she quickly dashes that idea.

“Someone I know and trust implicitly was. It wasn’t long after, I had a copy of the paperwork—such as it was—in hand.”

A lightbulb goes off in my head. “You know one of the other beneficiaries.”

She shoots me a look filled with wary admiration. “If I actually trusted you, I’d admire your sleuthing skills. I’ll confirm that yes, I do know one of the other beneficiaries.”

I lean forward eagerly. “Can you say that if I were to give up my portion, whether it would go to them or would it revert to Sula?”

“You seem so eager to give the money away, Mr. Ronan,” Carys drawls.

I shove to my feet and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “There’s exactly one thing I want that her bastard father gave to me.”

“What might that be?” The sarcasm is heavy in her voice.

“Time. I just want more time with his daughter.” I inspect my shoes while I wait for her to judge my words.

Her chair scrapes back and she approaches. “Are you trying to tell me you want me to draft a legal document for you that returns the one-hundred and fifty million dollars but requires you to stay with Ursula?”

“Exactly that.”

“For Christ’s sake, why?”