Page 8 of Single Dad’s Fake Bride (Billionaire Baby Daddies #7)
The ominous shadow of the unknown hovered overhead, making my chest twist uncomfortably after being so relaxed with him.
"My father died last month," he began. "I'm not sure if you heard."
"I did. I'm sorry for your loss."
The mental pieces clicked together and I found myself feeling disoriented by the shift of conversation.
He nodded briefly.
"The funeral was small. Family only."
Another pause.
"But his death has created a complicated situation. One that involves the academy."
I frowned, not understanding where this was leading.
"He left me everything in his will. The school, the estate, the family assets."
Harrison's voice remained steady, but I could see tension in the set of his shoulders.
"But there are conditions."
"What kind of conditions?"
I asked, but I felt leery of his answer.
How did this even concern me?
"I have to be married before my fortieth birthday. Which is in seventy-four days."
I stared at him, certain I had misheard.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"If I don't marry within that time frame, I lose everything. The school goes to a board-appointed successor. Eloise loses her place at Hawthorne."
He met my eyes directly.
"I need a wife, Miss Quinn. And I'm hoping you'll consider the position."
The coffee shop seemed to fade around us as his words sank in.
I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again, unable to form a coherent response.
If I hadn't set my mug down previously, I was sure the hot black liquid would be staining my slacks right now.
I must've looked stupefied because he continued without letting me speak.
"I know how this sounds," he continued, "but I can offer you stable housing, health insurance that would cover you completely—your mother too.
You live with her, right? You'd have financial security and in return, I need a real marriage.
Legal and binding. Five years, no divorce, no separate lives.
The will requires proof that the marriage is genuine. "
"My mother?" I asked, my head spinning.
How did he know about her?
"This is a joke," I managed, now certain this was a huge mistake.
I looked around, staring blankly at people whose lives seemed to march onward without the same shock I felt coiling through my chest.
"I wish it were." His expression remained completely serious. "I don't want the money or the estate. But I need to protect Eloise's future and prevent the board from turning Hawthorne into something unrecognizable."
I felt as though the floor had shifted beneath my chair.
"You want me to marry you?"
"I'm asking you to consider a mutually beneficial business exchange."
Harrison's eyes were wide open, dead serious, and I was feeling sick to my stomach.
The rational part of my mind screamed that this was insane, that I should stand up and walk away immediately.
But another part, the part that had been worried about my mother's latest drinking episode and the stack of overdue bills on my kitchen table, was listening.
"Uh, wow. This is insane. I need time to think," I said.
"Of course."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card.
"My personal number is on the back. Take whatever time you need, but?—"
"Seventy-four days," I finished.
How did my brain pick that number out and latch on to it with the shock of such enormous proportions?
"Yes."
I took the card and slipped it into my purse, my hands surprisingly steady.
"I should go."
"Sadie."
The use of my first name stopped me as I began to rise from my chair.
"I know this is overwhelming. But I wouldn't have asked if I didn't trust you completely."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and left him sitting at the table with our half-empty mugs.
The drive home passed in a blur of familiar streets and racing thoughts.
By the time I pulled up to the house, I had nearly convinced myself that the entire conversation had been some sort of elaborate misunderstanding.
I found my mother unconscious on the bathroom floor, blood pooled beneath her head where it had struck the tile.
More blood stained her shirt and the toilet bowl, bright red against the white porcelain.
"Mom!" I dropped to my knees beside her, searching for a pulse.
Her skin felt cold and clammy, but she was breathing.
"Mom, can you hear me?"
She stirred at the sound of my voice, her eyes fluttering open. "Sadie?"
"I'm calling an ambulance." I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands. "Don't try to move."
"No." She tried to sit up, then immediately slumped back down. "No hospitals."
"You're vomiting blood, Mom. This isn't negotiable anymore."
As I dialed 9-1-1, Harrison's business card fell from my purse onto the blood-stained floor.
I stared at it for a moment, then kicked it aside and focused on giving the dispatcher our address.
This time, I was done enabling her.
This time, we were going to face the truth about what her drinking had cost us both.
And maybe, if I were brave enough, I would finally have to face some truths about what I was willing to do to survive.