He motions for me to get on with it.
I push Sam’s plate of waffles away and place the papers on the table between us, spinning them around so they face him.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a financial contract.”
“Smart.” He nods as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Sam said you wanted to be a lawyer.”
“Yes, that’s the plan.” I point to the paper, keeping us on track. “This first page is the terms Sam probably told you about. It’s a six-year agreement. Two hundred thousand dollars is the amount I’ll pay you for your role in this. You’ll get a large portion up front, and every year you uphold the agreement, you’ll getanother payment until the sixth year, when we will dissolve this business arrangement, and you’ll get the rest of your money.”
“Business arrangement?” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Not marriage?”
“Other than the name, nothing about this is an actual marriage.”
“And everyone is just okay with that?”
“Not exactly.” The nerves inside my chest rattle to life. As an aspiring lawyer, I’ve read the conditions of the irrevocable trust. In order to get the first payout, I have to get married and stay married for six years to get the rest of the money, but nothing is ever that simple. “If the marriage is deemed fraudulent, then it could be challenged in court, and there’d be no payout.”
He nods a few times then looks over the paper, scanning it quickly. His eyes flip to me expectantly.
“Is that going to be a problem for you?” My heart pounds, the stress of it all banging in each beat.
“I need a pen.”
Oh. A pen. Thank goodness he’s still on board with this crazy plan.
Finding someone willing to marry me was the hardest part of it all.
I rummage through my purse until I find one and hand it over. “Be sure to fill in the address where I can send your payments, or if you know your bank account, we can just do it electronically.”
“I think electronically will be best.” He signs his name: Harrison…something that’s not legible. I should probably know his last name, but then again, I don’t really care. He’s just a means to an end. He finishes filling everything out then flips to the next page.
“It’s a confidentiality clause,” I explain. “By signing this, you’ll be legally bound to keep this arrangement, and the detailssurrounding it, confidential or else you’ll face the legal penalties listed here.” I study his blank face, worried he doesn’t fully grasp the meaning. “Like I said, if the marriage is deemed fraudulent, then you don’t get your money, and we have to pay back everything we got. How we keep that from happening is by not telling anyone about the arrangement. And when I say you can’t tell anyone, I mean not your best friend, not your coworker, not your mom, not your girlfriend,no one.”
“Are you going to tell people in your life? Your mom? Your friends?”
“No.”
Confidentiality is key for this plan to work. Obviously, my biological dad and his lawyers will know about the marriage. They just won’t know that it’s fake.
“Won’t people close to you wonder where all the money is coming from and ask questions?”
“I’ll just tell people I got a scholarship or picked up extra shifts. It shouldn’t be too hard to explain. Are you capable of doing that too?”
“Yeah, I’m not stupid.” He shrugs. “Besides, why would I want to tell anyone? It doesn’t exactly make me look good that I married a stranger for money.”
True. It’s not something either of us wants to lead with.
“In addition to confidentiality, you can’t have a social media presence with your name and face. You have to stay incognito for the next six years.”
“Easy.” He swipes the pen over the bottom of the paper, signing without hesitation. He flips to the last page and reads the bold letters across the top. His brows lift as he looks at me. “A prenup?”
“I’d be stupid not to include one. There’s a section about filing taxes separately as well as individual finances. I stand to inherit a lot of money because of this marriage.”
“Business arrangement,” he corrects with a smirk.
I lift my chin. “Is the prenup a problem?”
