Chapter 4 No.4

The family lawyer, Mr. Harrison, entered the room with the air of a man who was used to cleaning up rich people's messes. He didn't blink at the shattered glass or the sobbing woman in the corner. He simply opened his briefcase.

Annette watched as he drafted the NDA. It was brutal. It stripped Elena of her voice, her location, and her dignity.

Bernadine tried one last time, her voice taking on a wheedling tone. "Annette, darling, let's just... delay the engagement announcement. Say you're sick. We can work this out privately without... drastic measures."

"Delay means cancellation in the eyes of the market," Lucas argued, standing beside Annette like a sentinel. "Stock prices hate uncertainty. We announce tonight, or we announce the split."

Hank, perhaps feeling the sting of his manhood being crushed, suddenly straightened up. "I won't let you ruin Elena's life completely," he said, puffing out his chest. "She signs the NDA, fine. But she stays in D.C. I can't send her away."

He stood between Annette and the door, trying to look imposing.

Annette looked at him, bored. She checked her nails. "So you choose her over the Senate? Over the Bolton legacy?"

Hank hesitated. His eyes darted around the room. "I... I can have both. We can work something out."

"Greedy," Annette muttered.

Lucas slammed his hand on the desk, the sound like a gunshot. "That's it. Deal's off. I'm calling the press." He pulled his phone out again.

"Lucas, wait!" Edward panicked, reaching out. "We can fix this!"

"Your son is a liability," Lucas stated, his finger hovering over the call button. "He's reckless, he's stupid, and he's greedy. Adams Corp doesn't invest in bad assets."

Bernadine glared at Hank, willing him to submit, to just agree to anything to save the money. But Hank remained stubborn, fueled by a misplaced sense of heroism and too much scotch.

Annette checked her watch. "We're wasting time," she said. "The music is stopping soon."

She looked at Edward. "The Adams-Bolton merger is dead."

She turned to leave, placing her hand on the cold brass doorknob.

"Unless..." she said again, louder this time.

The room froze. It was the same word, but the weight was different now. It wasn't a threat; it was an offer.

"Unless what?" Edward asked, desperation leaking into his voice. He looked like a man drowning.

Annette turned back, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the library. Her red lipstick looked almost black in the shadows.

"The merger is between the Adams and Bolton families, right?" she asked innocently. "It's about the alliance. The defense contracts. The political influence."

"Yes," Edward nodded vigorously.

"It's not necessarily between Annette Adams and Hank Bolton," she continued.

Bernadine's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? There are no other heirs. Hank is the only son."

"Isn't there?" Annette asked.

"The eldest son," Annette said clearly.

Silence.

Hank scoffed, a wet, ugly sound. "Dereck? You mean Dereck? The cripple?"

"He's a Bolton," Annette said. "He has the bloodline. And he's single."

"He's a recluse! He's dying!" Bernadine shouted, her composure cracking. "He hasn't left the West Wing in three years! He's on so many painkillers he probably doesn't know his own name!"

"Perfect," Annette thought.

"I'll take him," she said aloud.

Hank looked at her like she had grown a second head. "You'd rather have a vegetable than me? You'd rather push a wheelchair than be a Senator's wife?"

Annette looked him up and down. "Yes."

Edward stared at her. The gears in his head were turning. Dereck. His discarded son. The one he had written off years ago after the accident. But... he was still a Bolton. If she married Dereck, the Adams money stayed. The merger happened.

"If I marry Dereck," Annette said, "The merger proceeds."

"But," she added, her eyes hardening. "I have conditions."