Chapter 3

"Russell, what exactly will it take for you to sign?"

The door opened from outside. Sebastian walked in.

He'd changed out of his wedding suit and wore a black shirt.

He held a new document in his hand, twice as thick as the one the lawyer brought earlier.

"One million dollars." He tossed the document on the table in front of me.

"Plus a downtown apartment, the deed in your name. You sign, you leave, and after that the business between the Taylor and Dulles families has nothing to do with you."

From five hundred thousand to one million plus an apartment.

That breach penalty clause really did make him panic.

"Before you came, did your mother show you clause seven of the marriage certificate?"

The corner of his mouth twitched: "You think I'm here to negotiate?"

"What else?"

"I'm here to inform you." He bent down, hands on the table, eye level with me.

"Russell, don't overestimate your position."

"You're a Taylor daughter who's been eating cold leftovers for twenty years. No backing, no connections. You've got a marriage certificate you don't even know how you got, and you want to sue the entire Dulles family?"

"Can you afford it?"

I leaned back in my chair.

"You should ask your legal team that question. If the Dulles family really wasn't concerned, why would you be sitting here?"

His gaze turned cold.

"I'm sitting here to give you one last chance to leave with dignity."

He stood up straight and pulled up a photo on his phone, turning the screen toward me.

In the photo, he and Swift stood on a yacht deck. She leaned on his shoulder smiling, his arm around her waist.

"Two years." His voice deepened.

"Swift and I have been together for two years. She's been looked down on in the Taylor family since childhood, carrying the family business alone. She's had it much harder than you."

"She's the one I'm marrying. It can't be anyone else."

I didn't look at the pose in the photo. I looked at what Swift wore around her neck.

An emerald green teardrop-shaped pendant.

My back tensed immediately. That was my mother's relic.

The only piece of jewelry she had with photographic evidence.

I'd turned the house upside down looking for it, thinking it had been sold or lost long ago.

It had been hanging around Swift's neck all along.

"That necklace she's wearing—do you know where it came from?"

Sebastian frowned: "It's hers. Why?"

"It was my mother's."

"Your mother's?" His expression looked like he'd heard a joke. "Swift said it was passed down from her grandmother."

"Her grandmother? Harrison's family ran a clothing wholesale business. Since when did they have heirloom jade?"

He was silent for a second. "Russell, are you done?"

He put his phone back in his pocket, his patience completely gone.

"First you say there's a problem with the marriage certificate, then with the family register, and now even a necklace has to be traced back to your mother. Just how much are you going to claim as yours?"

I was about to speak when the door opened again. Swift pushed in.

The moment she saw Sebastian, her eyes turned red.

"Sebastian, don't be angry about this anymore. Russell probably just wanted to marry you so badly, she panicked."

She turned to look at me: "Russell, I don't blame you. You grew up alone away from home with no one to care for you. Anyone would feel resentful."

Sebastian's gaze softened noticeably.

He reached out and held Swift's hand: "Don't upset yourself."

Swift shook her head and walked over to crouch in front of me.

Her voice was only audible to the two of us.

"Russell, just sign. You can't win."

"What do you think?"

She smiled and stood up, returning to Sebastian's side.

"Sebastian, why don't you step out. Let me talk to Russell."

Sebastian glanced at me and said "ten minutes" before turning and leaving.

The door closed. Not a trace of vulnerability remained on Swift's face.

She walked to the window, opened her bag, and touched up her lipstick.

"Russell, I suggest you don't make this too ugly. Dad will be here soon."

"What's he coming for?"

"To clean up my mess. His eldest daughter made a scene at the Dulles family wedding—he has to come give an explanation."

"When did I make a scene?"

"Not signing is making a scene." She smiled. "In Dad's eyes, everything you've done since childhood has been making a scene."

She put away her bag and turned to leave.

When she reached the door, her phone slipped from her bag and fell on the carpet by the door. She didn't notice.

The door was pulled shut by security from outside.

The phone's screen was lit. A message popped up.

I looked down at it.

The sender's display name was a heart symbol followed by: Jackson.

The message was just one sentence: "Honey, don't worry about the baby, I'll handle it."