CHAPTER FOUR: PRACTISING FOR FOREVER STELLAN POV

I released Maren’s hand before Martin could notice that I had held it longer than necessary. He had probably noticed anyway; lawyers were paid to notice the things other people preferred to ignore.

Martin closed the folder containing our signed preliminary agreement. “The trustees want to meet tonight.”

Maren looked up from her copy. “Tonight?”

“They were already concerned about the shortened timetable,” he explained. “Now that there is a proposed marriage, they want clarification before they begin processing anything.”

“Clarification about whether the marriage will legally satisfy the trust,” I said, cutting straight to the point.

Martin gave me the patient expression he normally reserved for directors who interrupted him during board meetings. “A valid marriage is only the first requirement. The trustees must also be satisfied that no separate arrangement makes the marriage fraudulent under the trust’s terms.”

“They want to know whether we are lying,” Maren said cleanly.

“They want to know whether you intend to enter a legal marriage,” Martin clarified. “They are not entitled to examine your private feelings, but Alistair will challenge the transfer the moment he learns about it. The trustees need a record showing that they conducted proper checks.”

“They already know about the deadline?” I asked.

“They know the vote moved. They also know Alistair’s lawyers requested copies of the trust’s activation procedures this morning.”

Of course they had. Alistair did not need proof that I was planning something; he only needed to suspect that I had found a way to stop him.

“Seven thirty,” Martin continued, gathering his papers. “Private dining room at the Commonwealth Club. Vivienne’s trust will be represented by Margaret Winslow and Daniel Price.”

“And Elodie?” I asked.

“She requested to attend. She is named as the secondary beneficiary, and the trustees believed she should be notified before any transfer begins.”

Maren picked up her copy of the agreement, looking at me across the mahogany surface. “Does your sister know why we’re getting married?”

“She knows the trust exists, but she doesn’t know about the agreement,” I replied.

“Will she be asked to pretend she doesn’t see the obvious?”

“Elodie has never pretended not to see anything,” I said.

It was not an encouraging thought. My sister had spent most of her life watching members of our family disguise self-interest as concern. She had developed an instinct for detecting dishonesty and a habit of announcing her conclusions before anyone asked for them. She would question Maren. She would question me more.

“Do not lie to her,” I added.

Maren’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “I thought convincing everyone was the point.”

“Convincing them does not require inventing an entirely different relationship. We are entering a real marriage for reasons we do not intend to discuss.”

“That is a very polished way to describe deception,” she said, placing the agreement into her leather bag. “You’re the executive, and I’m the crisis consultant. I’ll be at your house at six so we can coordinate before dinner.”

By seven thirty, the sterile glass of my office had been replaced by the low lighting and dark paneling of the Commonwealth Club’s private dining room. Maren and I sat side by side across from Margaret Winslow and Daniel Price. Margaret had been my grandmother’s personal attorney for twenty-three years and treated every sentence as though it might eventually be read under oath.

Elodie arrived three minutes late, kissed my cheek, and looked directly at Maren. “So it’s true. I heard you were engaged and assumed someone had made a mistake.”

“No mistake,” Maren replied smoothly.

“How long has this been happening?”

“Long enough for your brother to decide he cannot function without professional supervision.”

Daniel looked down at his glass to hide a subtle reaction, though Margaret remained stoic. “This dinner is not intended to judge your personal choices,” Margaret opened, resting her hands on the table. “Our responsibility is limited to the administration of Vivienne Thayer’s trust.”

“Then administer it,” I said.

Margaret looked at me over the top of her glasses. “Your grandmother anticipated impatience from her eldest grandchild. She believed marriage required commitment.”

“She connected that belief to voting shares,” I countered.

Maren's hand rested near mine on the white tablecloth. She did not touch me, but her proximity steadied something I had not realized was tightening inside my chest.

Margaret turned her focus to Maren. “Ms. Bellamy, do you understand that this marriage must be legally valid and entered without an undisclosed agreement that would make it a sham? Do you intend to marry Stellan freely?”

“I do,” Maren said without hesitation. “And I made sure his lawyers understood the financial and public consequences as well.”

Elodie leaned forward, her eyes locked on Maren. “Why? You built your own company. You don’t like being controlled, you dislike powerful families, and you have spent most of this dinner challenging everything Stellan says. Why would a woman like you suddenly agree to marry him?”

I moved to intervene, but Maren answered before I could stop her.

“Because he listens,” Maren said, her voice calm and remarkably deliberate. “He argues, he assumes he is right until someone proves otherwise, and he has an unhealthy belief that every problem can be solved by making a schedule. But when the evidence changes, so does he. He reads every report before a meeting. He remembers the names of employees most executives would never notice. When the data breach happened, he stayed in the office for thirty-one hours because he refused to leave junior staff handling the consequences alone.”

The room grew quiet. I turned toward her, but she kept her eyes fixed on my sister.

“He drinks coffee until it goes cold because he forgets it exists,” Maren continued softly. “He rubs the side of his thumb when he is trying not to lose his temper. And when he is worried, he becomes more polite, which is how everyone should know something is seriously wrong.”

Daniel shifted in his chair. I resisted the automatic urge to check my own hand. Maren had noticed every single one of those habits without ever mentioning them to me.

Elodie studied us, her defensive posture slowly slipping. “And that made you fall in love with him?”

Maren’s pause lasted no more than a single beat. “It made it impossible to keep believing I understood him simply from his surname.”

When Elodie opened her mouth to push further, I cut in, my voice dropping an octave. “That is enough. I agreed to a legal review, Elodie. I did not agree to let Maren be treated like a suspect because I chose her.”

I reached out and placed my hand over Maren’s on the table, feeling the subtle warmth of her skin beneath my palm.

Margaret watched the exchange for a long moment before returning to her notes. “Mr. Thayer, why Maren?”

“Because she has seen me fail,” I said, keeping my hand over Maren's. “She has seen me under pressure, angry, and wrong. She has challenged me in rooms where everyone else was too afraid to speak, and she has had access to information she could have used against me and never once exploited it.”

A flicker of guilt crossed Maren's face so briefly I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching her closely.

“I trust her judgment,” I finished. “And I know that whatever happens inside this family, she will not become someone Alistair can control.”

Daniel closed the summary folder in front of him. “The marriage appears capable of satisfying the legal requirements, but we still need the final marriage certificate and signed declarations before the transfer process can begin.”

“How long will settlement take?” I asked.

“Ordinarily, five business days,” Margaret said. “However, if Alistair files his formal challenge before the marriage is recorded and submitted, he can delay your voting authority until after the board meeting.”

“When will he file?”

“Based on his lawyers' inquiries today, I expect action within three days.” Daniel looked between us seriously. “To protect the transfer, the marriage must take place within forty-eight hours.”

Maren turned toward me, her usual impenetrable composure breaking for the first time all night. “Forty-eight hours?”

Margaret closed her folder with a quiet, decisive thud. “By this time the day after tomorrow, you must already be husband and wife.”