Chapter 2 - The Clause Hidden Behind the Wedding
At 1:17 in the morning, I sat in a conference room on the forty-third floor of Moretti Meridian Group wearing the same black dress I had planned to wear to my rehearsal dinner.
My wedding gown was still hanging in a climate-controlled suite at the Plaza.
Two hundred and eighty guests were asleep across Manhattan expecting to watch me get married in eleven hours.
My parents were at a hotel in Midtown.
My mother had spent three months hand-addressing thank-you cards.
My father had practiced walking me down the aisle in our Queens living room because his left knee had started giving him trouble.
And I was staring at a loan agreement that might destroy my company before breakfast.
Chloe paced behind me.
Christian stood at the far end of the glass table while three attorneys from his legal department reviewed documents on secured tablets.
I had objected to coming here.
He had said, “Then go somewhere else with lawyers who can be awake in ten minutes.”
I came here.
Pride was a luxury I could not afford while thirty-two people’s paychecks were at risk.
One of the attorneys, Priya Shah, rotated her screen toward me.
“There.”
May you like
I leaned closer.
Page 186.
