PART 2 — My Husband’s First Words After We Closed the Door
Rick walked in behind me.
He closed the door.
Then he looked at me for several seconds without saying anything.
I suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to worry,” I said quietly. “I know this marriage isn’t romantic.”
He shook his head.
“That isn’t what I’m worried about.”
He walked toward the window and stared out at the dark estate.
“Do you know why I asked you to marry me?”
I swallowed.
“Because you needed someone young and healthy beside you?”
He actually laughed.
“No.”
Then he turned around.
“I asked because I knew exactly who you were.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Rick reached into his jacket and pulled out an old photograph.
He handed it to me.
My hands immediately began shaking.
It showed a young woman standing beside a little girl.
I recognized the little girl.
It was me.
I looked at Rick.
“Where did you get this?”
His expression softened.
“Your mother.”
My heart stopped.
“My mother?”
He nodded.
“She gave me this photograph twenty-two years ago.”
I couldn’t speak.
My mother had abandoned me when I was young.
For years, I had believed she simply didn’t want me.
Rick sat down.
“She came to me when she was sick.”
I stared at him.
“What did she want?”
“She wanted me to promise her something.”
“What?”
Rick looked directly into my eyes.
“That I would find you.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Why?”
“Because she knew she didn’t have much time.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“You knew my mother?”
“Very well.”
I shook my head.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
Rick sighed.
“Your mother wasn’t the person you thought she was.”
I looked at him.
“She left me.”
“She did.”
“You just said she cared about me.”
“She did.”
“Then why?”
Rick was silent for a long moment.
Finally, he said:
“Because she was trying to keep you alive.”
My entire body went cold.
“Alive from what?”
Rick opened a drawer beside him.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Newspaper clippings.
And letters.
He placed them on the bed one by one.
“There was a man your mother was terrified of.”
“Who?”
Rick pointed to an old newspaper photograph.
The man was standing outside a courthouse.
I recognized his face.
I’d seen him once before.
In an old family photograph.
My biological father.
I stared at the picture.
“My father?”
Rick nodded.
“Your father wasn’t poor.”
I looked at him.
“He was extremely wealthy.”
That made no sense.
My entire childhood had been spent struggling.
Rent.
Food.
School supplies.
Medical bills.
If my father had money, why had we lived like that?
Rick’s next words answered it.
“Because your father didn’t want you to inherit anything.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“He cut your mother off completely.”
“Why?”
Rick hesitated.
“Because she left him.”
I stared at the papers.
“She left a wealthy man?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rick looked away.
“Because she discovered what he was doing.”
My hands trembled.
“What was he doing?”
Rick didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he handed me one final document.
It was a copy of a trust agreement.
My name was written across the top.
My birth date was underneath.
And beside it was a number so large I couldn’t even process it.
I looked at Rick.
“What is this?”
“Your inheritance.”
I almost dropped the paper.
“My inheritance?”
He nodded.
“Your father had millions set aside for you.”
“Then why didn’t I receive it?”
“Because the trust had one condition.”
“What condition?”
Rick’s expression changed.
“You had to turn twenty-five.”
I stared at him.
“I’m twenty-four.”
“I know.”
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
I looked at the wedding ring on my finger.
Then at Rick.
“Why did you marry me?”
He took a deep breath.
“Because your twenty-fifth birthday is in six months.”
My heart pounded.
“You could have just told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there are people who have been waiting for you to turn twenty-five.”
I felt a chill run through me.
“Who?”
Rick looked toward the locked bedroom door.
“Your father’s family.”
I couldn’t speak.
Then he said the sentence that changed everything.
“They’ve been searching for you for years.”
I stood up.
“So this marriage isn’t about your money.”
Rick shook his head.
“No.”
“Then what is it about?”
He walked toward me.
“For the next six months, I am the only thing standing between you and the people who want control of your inheritance.”
I stared at him.
Then suddenly, someone knocked downstairs.
Rick’s face went pale.
He looked at his watch.
“Nobody was supposed to know you’re here tonight.”
Another knock.
Then the estate’s security alarm suddenly sounded.
Rick grabbed my hand.
“Stay behind me.”
“Who is it?”
He looked toward the door.
And whispered:
“The person who found you first.”
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