Chapter 8 - The Marriage Nobody Told Cormack AboutCormack read the document three times.
Then he placed it on the table.
Sloan stared at him.
“I didn't know.”
“You were married.”
“Legally.”
“To Leon.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Six months.”
“Why?”
She closed her eyes.
“My father died.”
“No.”
She opened them.
“That's when it started.”
Her mother had been gone.
Her father was dying.
Toby was five.
Sloan was nineteen.
Leon had offered protection.
He had said the marriage was temporary.
A legal shield.
A way to keep Sloan's inheritance from being seized.
She believed him.
Then Leon disappeared.
The marriage was never formally dissolved.
Sloan had assumed the paperwork had been invalidated.
It hadn't.
Cormack sat back.
“So when Leon saw you at the gala—”
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“He wasn't helping me.”
“No.”
“He wanted the trust.”
Cormack nodded.
Sloan looked down.
“Why are you angry?”
He answered immediately.
“Because I care.”
She looked up.
“And?”
He stood.
“I don't know what to do with that.”
The room went quiet.
Sloan stepped closer.
“You don't have to do anything.”
Cormack's eyes met hers.
“I do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He took her hand.
“I love you.”
She froze.
“I know this is terrible timing.”
She laughed through tears.
“You think?”
“I've never been good at this.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“I've noticed.”
She leaned toward him.
“I love you too.”
He kissed her.
Not dramatically.
Slowly.
Like both of them were asking permission.
The next morning, Leon returned.
Not physically.
Through a legal notice.
He claimed Sloan was still married to him.
He demanded control of the trust.
He demanded access to the Riverline shares.
And he threatened to expose her past.
Cormack read the documents.
“Let him.”
Sloan looked at him.
“What?”
“We expose everything.”
“That could destroy me.”
“No.”
He handed her a folder.
“Your mother left proof.”
They found the original marriage agreement.
It contained a clause.
Leon would receive no rights if he abandoned Sloan for more than thirty days.
He had.
For six years.
The marriage was void.
Sloan's inheritance remained hers.
Leon was cornered.
He ran.
But not before leaving one final message.
You still don't know who owns Riverline.
Sloan stared at the screen.
Cormack looked at the ledger.
Then he saw it.
A final page.
One name.
Sloan Whitaker — controlling beneficiary.
She read it.
“But why me?”
Cormack smiled.
“Because your mother trusted you.”
“More than money?”
“More than power.”
Sloan's eyes filled.
“Then what do I do?”
He answered:
“Choose.”
She thought.
Then signed the transfer.
Not to herself.
To a foundation.
Half the Riverline voting rights would remain with her.
The rest would fund hospitals.
Legal aid.
Missing-person programs.
Financial assistance for families like hers.
Toby.
Her mother.
All the lives lost because rich men believed control was more important than people.
Cormack watched.
“You just gave away billions.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I gave away fear.”
He smiled.
Then leaned down.
“That's my wife.”
She froze.
“Your wife?”
He smiled.
“Not yet.”
She laughed.
“Don't scare me like that.”
“I've learned.”
He kissed her.
Then Cormack's phone rang.
Fitz.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Daniel.”
Cormack's expression changed.
“Where?”
“Leaving the country.”
“Why?”
“He says he has one final secret.”
Cormack sighed.
“What now?”
May you like
Fitz answered:
“Your mother is alive.”
