After My Fiancé Was Late Thrice, I Claimed the Trillion Inheritance Alone

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4

Called out on where his family's money really came from, Abner flushed dark red and snapped back, humiliation cracking through his voice.

"Glenda Maxwell, don't you dare use my father to scare me. The Delgados got where we are because my dad is smart and has a head for business. Your family did nothing but throw us a few contracts."

Then something seemed to occur to him, and his expression hardened.

"If anything, it's your family that owes mine. If my dad hadn't pulled old Joshua Maxwell out of that sewer, the Maxwells would've been finished long ago."

"Everything the Maxwells have today, you owe to my father. What exactly do you have to be so proud of, Glenda Maxwell?"

He shoved me to the floor and spat out,

"Glenda Maxwell, you sit here and think hard about what you've done. I'm taking Kitty to the vet."

"And if you keep this stubborn, domineering act up, forget about me ever marrying you. You can forget about the trust shares too."

With that he slammed the door, and a moment later I heard the lock click from the outside.

I pounded on the door, then threw myself at the window, hammering at it.

Through the glass I watched Abner gently wipe Irma's tears.

I watched him bend down, tenderly help her into the driver's side, lean across to buckle her seatbelt for her.

As the car tore off, I wiped the wet from the corner of my eye, turned, grabbed a chair, and drove it hard into the windowpane.

Thank God we'd bought a place on the third floor, with an osmanthus tree right beside it.

I pushed the window open, climbed onto the sill, caught hold of a branch outside, shut my eyes, and jumped.

I landed on the trunk, and I ignored the pain and slid down it as fast as I could.

The instant my feet hit the ground, I didn't stop to check the scrapes on my body. I took off running for the courthouse.

The moment I burst into the courthouse lobby, a mess, the clock read four forty-five.

Stewart hurried over at once, tense.

"Glenn, I thought you'd changed your mind and weren't coming. What happened to you—"

"Never mind that. Where's your ID? We're getting the license right now."

"Okay. I've already pulled a number three times. We're next in line."

Four forty-eight, and Stewart and I were sitting at the courthouse window, signing, stamping. Four fifty, and the marriage certificate, red and fresh, was in my hand.

I didn't even glance at Stewart grinning ear to ear in the certificate photo. I grabbed him and rushed us out of the lobby.

"Stewart, I'm giving you nine minutes. Can you get us to Harmony Group headquarters?"

Stewart dropped the easygoing look, hit the ignition, and worked the clutch.

"Glenn, if you need it, I'll have you there in eight."

He floored it, the car threw up a cloud of dust, and we shot off toward Harmony headquarters.

The whole way there, watching the hard set of Stewart's face, watching the streets fly backward past the window, my heart went quiet all at once.

Having someone who'd drive himself to the edge just to get you there. It felt good.

When Stewart slammed to a stop in the Maxwell parking lot, he grabbed my hand and we ran for the elevator. Inside, the clock read four fifty-eight.

Stewart held my hand tight, watching the floor numbers flash by, and said in a low voice,

"Glenn, don't worry. Whatever you want to do, I'll break my neck getting you there. Not one minute late."

My eyes went hot for a second, and I gave him a firm nod.

When the elevator stopped on the thirty-second-floor headquarters, I drew a breath and smoothed my clothes, then slipped my arm neatly through Stewart's.

"Let's go, husband. They still need your signature."

Arm in arm with Stewart, I strode into the meeting room, and the moment the door swung open, every face turned to me in shock.

The witness committee was packing the documents away, sliding them into a filing box.

I let a small smile show, looked up at the clock, and said slowly,

"Four fifty-nine and ten seconds. Fifty seconds left. I think there's still time for us to sign."

The committee members stopped and looked up at me.

"Ms. Maxwell, even if there's time left, your fiancé Abner Delgado isn't here. Without his signature, you still can't claim the trust shares."

He shook his head with a look of regret.

Stewart walked forward, smiling, and slapped the marriage certificate down on the table.

"Everyone, Ms. Maxwell has a lawful, legitimate husband. I don't think we need some worthless fiancé's signature, do we?"

Every eye went wide and swung to the fresh red certificate.

Stewart, showing it off, picked it up, flipped it open, and held it high for the whole room to see.

The shareholders came alive.

"Good, good. Sign, sign."

The lawyers quickly handed over the agreement for Stewart to review.

Stewart dropped it straight back onto the table, walked up to the witness committee, and said in a clear voice,

"I don't need to read any agreement. Whatever Glenn wants, I agree to it. Can I just sign now?"

The committee members exchanged a glance, took out the file, and laid it in front of Stewart. With one hand holding mine and the other holding the pen, he signed his name in quick, sweeping strokes.

The moment the pen passed into my hand, I smiled.

Stewart held me, wrapped his hand over mine, and together we signed the three characters of my name once more.

The instant we stood and looked at each other and smiled, the clock struck five o'clock exactly. Not a second over.

I turned the certificate on the table toward me, snapped a photo, and posted it to my feed with the caption,

"I didn't fail Grandpa's charge. I finally have a home to belong to."

The second it went up, a message came in from Abner.

"Glenn, Irma's crying so hard, I can't leave her home alone. I won't make it over to sign this year."

"Don't worry. Next year I definitely won't be late. I'll marry you in real style."