Dean has paid off the balance of the business loan on my shop. In full. Two hundred and fifty-three thousand dollars, gone. Just like that. My stomach has fallen to my ankles, pulled there by a pallet of bricks. This is not good, and it gets worse as I continue reading. He's done more than clear the debt. He's also purchased the entire retail block where my shop sits. The building. The land. All of it. It's the most premium retail space in Bellevue and he bought it. The numbers on the paper are staggering. I look up at him in shock. My legs feel like jelly and my throat is tight. "I don't understand."
"It's simple." Dean's voice is calm. Pleasant, even. Like we're discussing something benign like how to properly fold a towel or which direction toilet paper should face on the roll.
"I know how important your little business is to you. And I wanted to make sure you and Jamie had security. Stability."
Little business. There it is again.
"This is..." I look back down at the documents. The numbers are staggering. Tens of millions of dollars in real estate. "This is too much."
"Nonsense." Dean moves behind his desk, but he doesn't sit. "Consider it an investment in my son's future."
I look at the first page again. The loan payoff. The real estate. The transfer language. Then I see something that pulls me upshort. Five years. I read it again. Then again. Then once more, because in none of the readings has it made sense. Because what I’m seeing can’t be right.
"Dean?"
He adjusts the folder already sitting on his desk until the corners line up perfectly. "Yes?"
"This says if I stay married to Asher for five years, this all transfers to me."
"Correct."
"And if I don't?"
Dean finally looks at me "If the marriage ends before the five-year mark, you'll need to repay the loan in full within ninety days of filing for divorce. You won't get the real estate, so you'd also have ninety days to relocate your shop."
I don't have two hundred and fifty-three thousand dollars. And even if I did, finding a new location, moving inventory, rebuilding our clientele... it would destroy us.
Jamie and I spent the last two years building this business. We used the money our grandmother left us to start it. Including the balance of the loan and the inheritance money we put into it, she and I have more than a half a million into the business. It was a big leap of faith to go all in like that.
Until now, I've been confident we made the right choice. The store is doing well, but it's only been two years. We're not in a position to pay off a quarter of a million dollars fast.
And Dean knows it. If the business went under, the inheritance we used wouldn't suddenly reappear. That was a one-time thing. Which means we'd have wasted that money by starting a business that failed—which only adds to how wrong this is.
The worst part, the thing that's sitting on my soul, is that this wouldn't just hurt me. It would hurt my sister. My best friend. The one person on this earth who understands me at everymoment and never judges. She is my constant, and I am hers. I would never, ever have gone out with Asher or accepted his marriage proposal if I knew this would happen. Never.
"I..." I flounder, unable to form a complete sentence.
"I know it sounds complicated," Dean says. His voice is so kind it makes me want to scream. "But it's really quite straightforward. Stay married to my son, and you'll never have to worry about money again. You'll have security. Stability. A future."
I already have a fucking future. The one where I’m marrying his son and building a life. But he doesn’t mean that. He meanshisfuture. The one he's designing.
"This is too generous," I hear myself say, like I'm outside my own body. "I don't need millions of dollars in real estate or for you to pay off my loans. I'm not marrying Asher for his money."
He barks out a harsh sounding laugh. "For my money," he corrects. "Asher doesn't have anything that isn't mine," Dean says. "And it'll be decades before he does."
The words land hard, no padding. Even after everything I've seen and heard from this man before now, they're chilling.
"That said," he continues, "I know you're not marrying him for money. You signed a prenup that favored my son and actually fought for it to be less friendly to you. You bought the cheapest house Asher could talk you into. You've taken nothing you weren't pushed to accept."
I go still. The house Asher and I chose together is beautiful. Updated. In a gorgeous, exclusive neighborhood on Lake Sammamish. But to Dean, it's modest. Reasonable. Almost embarrassing.
"I almost intervened on the house," Dean says. "But a reasonably priced, tasteful home has its uses. It makes the family appear grounded."
The family. My God. Like it's the mob. Dean watches me for a moment, like he's waiting for me to catch up.
"You're an oddity in my world, Julie. A genuinely..." He pauses, as if searching for a word he doesn't often use. "Decent person."
I'm not sure if that's a compliment.
