She didn’t finish her sentence.
“Okay.” I pressed a Kleenex against her face, dabbing her tears. “Give me a few minutes to think, but before I do that… On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the highest, how close are you to not wanting to marry Jordan anymore?”
“Fifty.”
“Very well.” I walked over to the window and pulled out a chair. “Sit here and let me figure out a way to handle this.”
She obliged, and I stepped into the adjoining suite. I grabbed a pillow from a chaise and screamed into it.
WHYYYY? WHYYYY? WHYYYY?
I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t imagining this, and I didn’t feel any pain at all.
Maybe I am?
I looked out the window to see staff setting up the hot chocolate bar—another sign of “have to be dreaming,” but then I felt beads of sweat forming on my brow.
And the pain from my hard pinch slowly began to sting.
“Okay, fine,” I said to myself. “This is happening, and it’s fine.”
My options over the next couple of hours were limited.
A) Immediately alert my staff to code red and start preparing for damage control with the venue and every arriving guest.
B) Do nothing and let her fend for herself.
C) Make a call to the most loathsome person in my contacts and ask for help with this.
It took me five seconds to settle on option A.
I began typing a text to my team, but before I could finish, a new message crossed my screen.
Megan
While you’re thinking about this… Here are some pictures of the prenup pages. In case you think I was exaggerating. [image] [image] [image]
I clicked on the first one.
“The wife is entitled to no properties upon marriage nor in the event of a divorce. She will receive a generous monthly allowance that can be adjusted and/or withheld upon her completion of her monthly duties.”
I didn’t need to read anything else.
I swallowed my pride and opted for Option C.
I scrolled to Asher’s business number and took a deep breath before calling.
It rang once.
It rang twice.
“This is Asher speaking,” he answered on the third ring. “Who are you, and how did you get this number?”
“I’m someone who despises you, and you gave this number to me.”
“So, you deleted my other one?”
“No…”
