Trees border the entire property, tall and dense, creating a natural wall. No neighbors in sight. No noise. No cameras. No reporters.
Just space.
Just quiet.
I bought it two years ago—a reward for my contract extension.
I bought it because I needed somewhere that felt like mine.
It’s beautiful. It’s expensive. It’s comfortable in a way that sinks into your bones.
It’s where I reset.
It’s home.
I walk inside, the scent of lemon polish and expensive air hitting me immediately. I drop my bag in the hallway and head straight for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
Then I pull out my phone.
Time to get this over with.
I dial Daniel, my lawyer.
He’s been handling my contracts and my "incidents" since I was a rookie.
He’s seen it all—bar fights, speeding tickets, endorsement disputes. But he hasn't seen this.
"Jake?" Daniel’s voice is crisp, professional. "I thought you were in Vegas for the weekend. Everything okay? Did Hayes get arrested again?"
"No," I say, leaning against the marble countertop. I take a deep breath. "Daniel... I need your help. Something happened."
"Define 'something,'" Daniel says, his tone shifting to cautious.
“I need an annulment.”
Silence.
Then, carefully, “Okay.”
“I got married,” I add.
“Yeah, I figured,” he replies dryly. “When did this happen?”
"Last night. Or early this morning. It’s a blur."
“Was alcohol involved?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he says immediately. “That makes this easier.”
Easier.
I lean against the kitchen counter.
“How fast can you make it disappear?”
“A few days,” he says. “A week at most.”
