“You have my word, Mr. Herron.”
Hayden leans back, satisfied. I stare at him, torn between appreciation and exasperation. He acted like I wasn’t even in the room.
Then, just as the lawyer reaches for a folder, Hayden speaks again. “And if we were married?”
The lawyer pauses mid-motion. His gaze flickers to me, then back to Hayden, calculating. “Legally?”
Hayden doesn’t blink. “Yes.”
The lawyer exhales, considering. “It would strengthen her position. A spouse’s claim like yours carries weight. Her uncle’s case would be even weaker, especially if you moved swiftly.”
I straighten, my pulse kicking up. “Hayden…”
He doesn’t look at me. “Fine. Draw up the paperwork. We’ll sign it this evening.”
The lawyer nods, already reaching for a legal pad. Hayden continues, voice cool, measured. “It will state that in the event of my death, she inherits the entirety of my estate. Effective immediately, she has full access to all of it: bank accounts, properties, and holdings. No restrictions.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, absolutely not.”
Hayden finally turns to me, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t ask your opinion.”
“You’re insane,” I snap. “We are not getting married just to—”
“Don’t question me,” he cuts in smoothly. “I have no desire to claim any of your assets. I’m only sharing mine.”
I shake my head, stepping back like I can put distance between myself and the sheer weight of what he’s proposing. “You don’t get to decide this for me.”
Hayden’s gaze darkens like he’s testing me. “Then decide.”
It’s a challenge, and I know only one answer would be accepted, but still, I fight.
Silence stretches between us, thick with tension. The lawyer watches quietly, waiting.
I swallow hard. “I don’t need this.”
Hayden exhales, but there’s no frustration in it, only certainty. “You don’t have to need it. You just have to take it.”
I turn away, pressing my fingers to my temples. Hands shaking. “This is insane.”
“It’s done,” he says simply.
I whirl on him. “No, it’s not.”
But the lawyer is already writing. And Hayden doesn’t argue. Because in his mind, it already is.
“It’s done, Martine, and I don’t care if you like it or not. You belong tome.” He emphasizes arrogantly.
But as much as I want to be angry, I can’t ignore the fact that, for all his ego, Hayden isn’t just controlling me, he’s protecting me.
Even if he refuses to admit it.
Hayden grabs me by the arm, his grip firm but not painful, and drags me back through the office, down the elevator, and toward the car. I twist my arm free as soon as we reach the parking lot.
“What the hell was that?” I demand, spinning to face him. “You didn’t even let me speak.”
“You don’t need to speak,” he says curtly, unlocking the car.
I scoff. “Oh, so that’s what this is? You hijacked my meeting, threatened my lawyer, and now I’m supposed to thank you for it?”
