Chapter 4 The Accidental Marriage Contract

Gabriel's POV

I looked at her with an inquisitive gaze and said, "Ms. Ross, please name your terms."

I watched her carefully as she drafted our agreement, the only sound in the room the scratching of pen against paper. This gave me an unexpected opportunity to truly study the woman I'd mistakenly married.

She wore a blue plaid shirt, denim overalls, and combat boots—practical attire that somehow highlighted rather than diminished her natural beauty. Her thick black hair was woven into a messy braid, and her face was completely free of makeup. Despite this—or perhaps because of it—she radiated a fresh, vibrant energy that commanded attention.

My gaze traveled from her raven hair to her delicate eyebrows, those remarkable blue-green eyes, the perfect slope of her nose, and finally to her full, rose-colored lips. Her skin was a flawless honey tone that seemed to glow from within.

When she suddenly looked up, catching me mid-inspection, I awkwardly averted my eyes. She maintained her composure, sliding the completed documents across the table without comment.

I examined the documents carefully, my interest piqued more by the woman across from me than the papers in my hand. One outlined basic compensations; the other was a divorce agreement mentioning marital assets to be divided according to law. The phrase "marital assets" immediately caught my attention, and I couldn't help but smile. There was far more to this small-town girl than I'd initially assumed.

Her eyes met mine with an unsettling directness. "Although our marriage wasn't consensual, it was legally registered at City Hall and is protected by law. Isn't that right, Mr. Rothschild?"

The corners of my mouth twitched upward. "That's correct."

"So," she continued, a hint of something playful dancing in her expression, "from our marriage registration until our divorce, both parties' income counts as marital property, correct?"

"Legally speaking, yes," I agreed, curious to see where she was taking this.

I could feel Adam tensing beside me, shifting uncomfortably as if watching a train wreck in slow motion. His anxiety only heightened my fascination with her approach.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on a confidential tone. "Mr. Rothschild, since you abducted me from my pharmacy, I've earned exactly zero dollars." A subtle smile played at her lips. "But I'm guessing your income during our brief marriage has been... somewhat more substantial?"

Adam's face flushed red with indignation, but I found myself suppressing a laugh. Rather than feeling cornered, I was strangely delighted by her audacity. I unlocked my phone, pulled up my financial dashboard, and slid it across the table.

"See for yourself," I offered.

She took the phone without hesitation, not even blinking at the billion-dollar figure displayed on the screen. Most people would have gasped or shown some reaction to numbers of that magnitude, but her composure never wavered.

"Half a billion dollars," she stated matter-of-factly, sliding the phone back to me. "Plus reasonable compensation for reviving your grandmother, who I assume is worth considerably more than any dollar amount."

Her confidence was mesmerizing. Where others would stammer or negotiate timidly, she stated her terms as if they were already agreed upon. I'd built my reputation on dominating such conversations, yet found myself willingly ceding ground to this enigmatic woman.

"You know," I said, studying her face, "most people would be intimidated sitting across from me, demanding hundreds of millions."

A flash of mischief brightened her eyes. "And most people would be intimidated being kidnapped by you and forced into marriage. I guess neither of us is 'most people.'"

A genuine laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Adam stared at me as if I'd grown a second head.

"No objections to my terms, then?" she asked, pen poised over the agreement.

"None," I replied, finding myself inexplicably drawn to her directness. "Your request is both reasonable and legal."

Adam's expression contorted into one of utter disbelief. I ignored him, my attention fixed solely on the fascinating woman across from me.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face—she'd clearly expected more resistance. She recovered quickly, pushing the agreement toward me with a subtle, victorious curve to her lips. "Then please sign the divorce agreement, Mr. Rothschild."

Instead of signing immediately, I posed a question: "Miss Ross, would you like to earn even more money?"

I explained my proposal: "As you've seen, my fiancée Victoria has disappeared, and my grandmother is deeply concerned about her. If she wakes up and doesn't see her, I fear she might fall ill again, endangering her life. Would you consider delaying our divorce and pretending to be my wife for my grandmother until I find another solution? In return, all my income during our marriage will be split as marital property."

Adam looked horrified at my offer, but Scarlett apologetically declined.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rothschild, but I can't help you with this. My fiancé and I had already arranged to return to Maple Creek tomorrow to get our marriage license. I must obtain our divorce certificate before noon tomorrow to catch the train back home."

An awkward silence fell. My smile froze as a complex mix of emotions stirred within me.

"Could you possibly negotiate with him?" I pressed, unwilling to give up.

"No," she stated firmly. "Nothing can change my plan, not even if the sky falls."

"Do you love your fiancé very much?" I asked, surprising myself with the question.

"We grew up together in Maple Creek," she answered simply, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

I forced a self-deprecating smile. "I truly apologize for causing such trouble right before your wedding. If you're having difficulty explaining this to your fiancé, I can personally clarify the situation."

"That won't be necessary," she declined. "I can resolve my own issues."

Her rejection felt like a slap, and I found myself inexplicably irritated. I made one final request: "Miss Ross, I'll accompany you to the court tomorrow for the divorce. But would you please stay here tonight, and meet with my grandmother as her daughter-in-law when she wakes up? I promise to find a good explanation and convince her to let you go without affecting your wedding plans."

Scarlett seemed ready to refuse but glanced toward my grandmother's room with a flicker of compassion. "Alright," she finally agreed.

After she left, Adam approached with urgent news: "Sir, the estate just reported that Mr. Derek's son who went missing twenty years ago has been found. Apparently, he was trafficked to Maple Creek as a child and now goes by the name Jack Parker."

The name struck me as familiar—I'd heard Scarlett mention it in the pharmacy—her fiancé. I instinctively glanced toward where she had disappeared, wondering if this could possibly be a coincidence.