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“You’re not buying Dad’s company?”
His lips thin. “No. His attempt at pulling one over on me won’t work out too well for him in the long run. Didn’t Archer tell you he was investigating your father’s company for fraud? Turns out he was right.”
Hundreds of invisible pins and needles prick at my skin, racing up my legs, my torso, my arms, up over my neck and scalp, numbing me, my back hunching forward with the weight of them. “But we’re married.” I grasp at the last straw I have, hanging onto it like a lifeline. He can’t push me out of his life so easily. I have legal rights, don’t I? Archer never mentioned that post-nuptial for us to sign again.
Mr. Bishop shakes his head, the solemnity of his act almost mocking. “Turns out you’re not.”
“W-what?”
“It looks like there’s a record on file with the clerk for a marriage license for you and Gabriel, but nothing for you and Archer.”
“I- I thought they just changed the names or something.”
He purses his lips. “That’s not how it works. Did you and Archer ever go get a license and get remarried?”
It takes me a moment to get out the word, “No.”
“Then it’s not legal.”
I shake my head, desperation bleeding out. “I know Archer. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t evict me. He wouldn’t end things this way.”
He brings his hands up in anoh, wellgesture. “And yet, here we are. Now, I don’t have all day to listen to my son’s jilted paramour.”
I curl my arms across my stomach, holding the pain inside. “But I have nowhere to go. He turned off my phone, changed his number or something. I don’t have any money.”
He opens his desk drawer, pulling out a checkbook even as his lips twist in annoyance. “Here. I’ll be generous.” He writes out a check and slides it across the desk.
I pick it up, my hands trembling, five hundred dollars made out to me, Serena Montague. The name is more a slap in the face than the modest amount of money. I was never a Bishop, apparently.
“Give my best to Greg,” he says, dismissing me. I automatically stand, not sure what else to do, not sure at all what’s going on right now. Were my questions answered? Or were only more raised in their place?
Let’s take stock. I’m not married to Archer and never was. There’s no reason to continue the fake relationship now that the Bishops aren’t buying Dad’s company. And Archer cut off my phone and credit card, had me evicted from our apartment, and fled the country so he wouldn’t have to face me while doing it.
There’s just no way. It’s too unbelievable. Iknowhim, despite only being together a couple of weeks. He’s honorable. Noble. Kind. Even if he wanted to end things, he wouldn’t go about it like this. And besides that, he promised he wouldn’t leave me.
And I told him I loved him.
But I also can’t ignore the facts. And the facts are that I’m single, penniless, and homeless right now. Great combo.
I tuck the check in my purse and exit the office, not bothering to say goodbye. What’s the point?
I take the elevator down and wander out on the sidewalk, letting the crowd sweep me away, directionless as to where I’m going. My eyes burn hot, but I don’t let the tears fall, my face aching with the effort to hold them back. I’ll get through this. I will.
It just might take some time to get to that point.