Chapter 8
"Then we lose the property transfer," Vanessa continued.
"The Hartwell account moves with the marriage.
Without the marriage, Dad doesn't get the signature he needs." Another pause.
"No, listen to me.
He doesn't know about any of that.
He thinks this is a normal prenup.
He signed it without reading past the third page." Her voice sharpened.
"Because he trusted me.
That's the point."
The corridor was very quiet except for her voice and the distant sound of three hundred people shifting in their seats in the ballroom behind him.
"I just need twenty minutes," Vanessa said.
"I'll go back in.
I'll handle the mother.
We get through the ceremony and everything proceeds as planned." A short pause.
"Yes.
I promise you.
Twenty minutes."
She ended the call.
She stood with her forehead resting against the white-paneled wall.
Then she straightened, smoothed the front of her dress, and turned around.
Derrick was standing eight feet away.
Vanessa's face did not collapse.
She was too controlled for that.
But her eyes — something left them very quickly.
"How much did you hear?" she said.
"Enough."
She looked at him.
Her mind was moving behind her eyes.
He could see it happening — the calculation, the assessment, the pivot.
"Derrick—"
"The prenup," he said.
"Tell me about the prenup."
"It's standard—"
"The Hartwell account.
Tell me what that is."
She said nothing.
"Vanessa.
Tell me what the Hartwell account is."
She lifted her chin slightly.
"It's a business arrangement between my father and your firm.
One that benefits you significantly, I might add."
"A business arrangement that transfers with our marriage."
"That's how it's structured, yes."
"And I signed something agreeing to it."
"You signed a prenuptial agreement.
Everything in it was legal."
"On page four," he said.
May you like
"After I stopped reading."
She didn't answer.
