Page 58 of Perfect Satisfaction
“We represent your father-in-law.”
“West Moore has been dead for months.”
“Indeed. His estate allowed for this contingency.” Number Two moves to my smallish conference table. Lifting a briefcase, he waves a hand. “May I?”
“By all means.” I want to see where this is going.
I want to know what Ursula’s up to now.
Three through Five scuttle over and arrange stacks of papers. One drones, “Ms. Moore’s father was...”
“A son of a bitch by all accounts I’ve read about him.”
He clears his throat. “Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there. To summarize, I’m certain you are not aware—although you are her husband—her father willingly chose to not bequeath her anything.”
My mind reels.Ursula works drawing a paycheck just like millions of other people because her father cut her off?I want to laugh at the same time I feel indignation on her behalf. Instead I find a middle ground and exclaim, “He was worth billions of dollars!”
“He was unorthodox.”
“I’d choose the word asshole, but, hey, I’m not really anybody in the grand scheme of things.”
“West Moore studied people. In the end, when he found out about your relationship with his daughter, he modified his estate.”
“He knew about me?” My mind spins with the fact a man of his power could have squashed me like a bug. But he didn’t. Why?
The lawyer scoffs. “There wasn’t a single movement you made since the day you married his daughter until his death that he wasn’t aware of.” A file as thick asWar and Peaceemerges. “You were, in his words, ‘exactly what Ursula deserved in a husband.’”
My insides crawl as I flip through my life as an investigator likely portrayed it—careless and carefree. This was the kind of man West Moore wanted for his only daughter? Calling the man an ass is an injustice to assholes everywhere.
This man might be Satan.
The photos flipping past me never captured the emptiness, longing, and the desire to be standing anywhere if I could be with that one person who made me feel more.
My Moore.
Slamming the folder closed, I declare hotly, “Your point?”
That’s when he drops the bomb. “West Moore was a ruthless man and a cunning one.”
A pit forms in my stomach. “Obviously. Explain.”
“For Ursula to receive her portion of the inheritance, you must reach an accord about your marriage.”
My mind drips the sarcasm I don’t dare say out loud.Great. We can finally end this farce and she’ll skip off into the sunset to go be with someone else. If it’s not Joshua Bassett, it will be with some other billionaire.
“This includes remaining together, living under the same roof, sharing a bed, for a period of three hundred and sixty-five days. Maids will come in daily to ensure these parameters are met. If a day is missed, it has to be made up. The clock starts as soon as possible but no later than one month after you sign these papers.”
“Are you fucking kidding?”
“It’s the reason we’ve stonewalled your attempts at divorce—from both sides.”
“So, my wife could make a boatload of cash?”
“Ms. Moore was unaware of this codicil.”
“You expect me to believe that?” I bellow.
Number One leans over and lifts a piece of paper from the top of the pile. It’s dated the day of West Moore’s funeral. It’s a deliberate exclusion clause that references a letter of wishes, not attached, but Ursula’s signature is at the bottom. I’m astounded. “She agreed to this?”
