The Daughter at the Door

Before my mother died, she arranged a marriage for me. My bride-to-be was Rosalind Young, Kingsford's most formidable financial tycoon. Before I married her, I added three clauses to the prenuptial agreement. First, no feelings. Our marriage was purely business. Second, she could live her life however she pleased, while I'd live mine. Third, I would step aside immediately if her true love ever came along. Nevertheless, I would be getting double the alimony. Rosalind was quite pleased that I knew my place. Our marriage was a peaceful one until the day a teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her knocked on the door of our mansion and calmly said, "Sir, I'm Rosalind's daughter. She raised me elsewhere. I'm 17." Chapter 1 Double Alimony I froze for all of two seconds. My first thought was, 'Wow, Rosalind had really kept this under wraps.' My second was to run through our prenuptial agreement in my head. What was the third clause again? Oh, right. I'd step aside immediately and get double the alimony if her true love ever came along. I immediately stepped aside to let the girl in, my tone all business. "Come on in. She's still at work. Have a seat. What would you like to drink?" The girl clearly hadn't expected my reaction. She stared at me for a long moment before hesitantly asking, "You're… not angry?" Angry? Why would I be angry? If anything, I was hoping that Rosalind really was having an affair. Then, she'd have no choice but to hand me tens of millions in alimony. Once the money was in, I'd be able to live the life of a wealthy man with no strings attached to me. I looked down as the girl slipped off her shoes. She was tall and graceful for a girl at 17. She might have Rosalind's eyes and features, but she had a much more innocent air to her. "What's your name?" I asked. "Yvonne." I took a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to her. "Yvonne, your mom and I have a marriage of convenience. We each get what we need from it. Her private life is none of my business. Naturally, I have no reason to be angry." Her grip on the water bottle tightened slightly as her throat bobbed at my explanation, but she didn't say anything. I sat down in the armchair across from her, keeping the coffee table between us. She really did resemble Rosalind. She reminded me of what happened three years ago. My mother had been on her deathbed as she gripped Rosalind's hand, entrusting me to her. The Young family owed my mother a life debt. So, Rosalind was repaying it by marrying me. Still, she handed me a prenuptial agreement the night before we signed the marriage certificate. I skimmed through it before holding up three fingers and saying, "Then, I'll add three clauses of my own. "First, no feelings. We only talk about profit sharing. Second, you can live your life, and I'll live mine. Third, I'll step aside immediately if your true love ever comes along. However, I'll also get double the alimony." She lowered her head and signed without the slightest pause. "Fine." Neither of us whispered words of love and devotion from start to finish. After we got married, we slept in separate rooms and even ate separately. She spent 20 days a month traveling abroad. Regardless, we crossed paths less often than she did with her secretary for the remaining ten. Three years ago, she was the first one to walk inside the City Hall, sign the paperwork, and make it official. She never looked back at me, not even once. It was as if we weren't getting married. Instead, she acted as if she were simply closing a business deal. … When Rosalind came home, I was curled up on the couch watching a TV show. Her footsteps passed the couch before stopping for about two seconds. I turned the volume up a couple of notches and kept watching. She didn't go upstairs. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and found her standing there, her gaze fixed on me. "Who did you meet today?" she finally asked. I paused the show and sat up straight, looking perfectly serious. "Ms. Young, you've got quite the information network. A pretty young girl showed up and said she was your daughter. You've done a great job keeping her under wraps." The room fell silent for several seconds. Her face remained expressionless, but she didn't deny it. "I'll handle this," she answered curtly. I nodded. I got up from the couch. When I passed her by, I stopped briefly to say, "Sure. By the way, just let me know if you need me to cooperate with the divorce proceedings." I hesitated, but couldn't resist adding, "You do remember the double-alimony clause in the agreement, right?" Chapter 2 Doing the Math Rosalind fixed her gaze at me, her eyes dark and unreadable. I waited a few seconds. The atmosphere was getting stranger by the second, so I turned and left for my room upstairs. I closed the bedroom door behind me with a soft click. I tipped my head back as I leaned against it and stared at the ceiling light. After we got married, she was always traveling for the sake of work. The woman spent 20 days out of every month away from home. I'd thought our marriage was as clean as a blank sheet of paper. Alas, I just had to find out that she'd had a true love all along and even had a daughter with him. I looked down at my phone and opened my banking app. The transfer she'd made before our marriage was sitting right there in my transaction history. 10 million dollars. Double that, and I'd get 20 million dollars. She'd kept her 17-year-old daughter hidden until now. That had to count as fraud, right? So… it wouldn't be all that unreasonable to ask for another 5 million dollars, would it? … I was still tossing and turning even though it was already 1:30 a.m. I hesitated for a long while before clicking on my contacts and scrolling down to Daniel Reed, a lawyer. I'd added him three years ago when we signed the prenup. His profile picture was a golden retriever, and he barely posted anything on social media. I opened our chat, my fingers typing and deleting the message I'm drafting over and over again. In the end, I sent him a text, saying, "Mr. Reed, can I ask you about something? If you're busy, feel free to pretend you didn't see this." His reply was instantaneous. "Go ahead." Wow, he was a pretty professional guy. I carefully considered how to phrase my words. I began, "Hypothetically speaking… purely hypothetically, I have a friend whose wife had a child before they got married, but she never told him." "Hmm." "That counts as concealing a major fact, right? Their agreement says that if her true love ever comes along, she'd have to pay double the alimony. Could that clause be applied here?" I finished. "What exactly does the agreement with your friend's wife say?" I stared at the screen. I couldn't say it was me. I couldn't give away too many details. I'd be utterly humiliated if my name made its rounds through the lawyers' circle in Kingsford. I answered, "My friend never signed a prenup. His wife just promised verbally that she'd walk away with nothing if she ever cheated." I sent it even though I found it wholly ridiculous. The typing indicator appeared, staying there for a long time. Finally, Daniel replied, "Your friend is awfully trusting." I choked. "Mr. Reed, that's not the point. The point is, what can he get now?" My finger hovered over the screen. 'Please say 20 million dollars… 25 million dollars would work just as well.' Rosalind's face couldn't put food on the table, but money could. "Alimony. Preferably double." "Is there any evidence that the wife has acknowledged the child?" I thought of Yvonne's face. Then, I remembered Rosalind saying, "Her name is Yvonne. I'll handle this." She hadn't denied it. So, that counted as an admission, right? I typed, "He says his wife didn't deny it. Does that count?" "A verbal admission can count, but it's best to have a recording, text messages, or even a witness." "A witness… Would I count?" I dropped the phone face down on the bed. The screen lit up again five seconds later. Daniel replied, "Mr. Shaw, I can't take on anything involving the Young family, but I can recommend a colleague who specializes in family law." I froze before laughing at my own stupidity. … Yvonne made another appearance while I was busy spending the next couple of days contacting lawyers and inquiring about getting a divorce. I was at the dining table pouring red wine when I heard the sound of something rustling in the foyer. Rosalind walked in first, with Yvonne following closely behind her. Rosalind pulled out a chair. "Yvonne has transferred to a school here. She'll be staying with us until the paperwork is finished." 'Well, look at that,' I thought with glee. She'd brought the daughter she'd kept hidden right into the house. How long before her true love came knocking and asking for his place? I was absolutely getting a divorce. I was already calculating how much alimony I could get, but that didn't stop me from giving the kitchen instructions. "Linda, add two more dishes for dinner tonight." Dinner was soon on the table. I couldn't help thinking about the 25 million dollars I could potentially get as I placed a barbecue rib on Yvonne's plate and spoke warmly. Chapter 3 The Note Under the Door "Are you all set for school?" Yvonne lowered her head and mumbled, "Yeah." "What grade will you be in?" I asked. "11th." I inquired politely, "Can you keep up with the classes?" Her hands paused mid-movement. "I'm doing okay." I added some more vegetables to her plate. "It's getting cold. There's a thick blanket in the guest room closet." She didn't answer or look up, spending the entire meal focused on the plate in front of her. Rosalind didn't say a word either. This mother-daughter duo was painfully quiet. Linda cleared the dishes after dinner, while I opened the refrigerator for some fruit. I cut the orange into eight even wedges and arranged them symmetrically on a white porcelain plate. I heard the sound of footsteps coming to a stop behind me. "You're not going to ask how I'm doing? You don't care that she's out there fooling around?" Yvonne's voice was slightly hoarse as she questioned me sharply. "As far as I'm concerned, that's between the two of you. My only responsibility is to go along with whatever Ms. Young decides," I replied blithely. "You really don't care? Not even a bit?" she pressed. I turned off the faucet. Then, I turned around, dried my hands with a towel, and gave her a perfectly pleasant smile. "Kid, this is a marriage of convenience." I hung the towel back on the rack, my smile taking on a knowing edge. "Caring too much would be a breach of contract." She didn't say anything else. Instead, her eyes stayed on my face, as if she were trying to figure something out. I'd just picked up the fruit plate and turned to leave when I saw Rosalind standing in the kitchen doorway. … After that day, Rosalind's appearances at home became noticeably less frequent. When Linda asked how many place settings to put out, I didn't even hesitate to tell her two. Even though the lady of the house was gone, no one seemed to find it strange that the husband and the illegitimate daughter were living together in peace. Andrew Collins, the lawyer I'd contacted, sent me a document that Friday afternoon. "Mr. Shaw, here's the preliminary list of evidence for the divorce proceedings. Please review it." I opened it. Item Seven read, "The wife concealed the existence of a child born outside the marriage, constituting a major marital fraud." "Mr. Shaw." I discreetly closed the document at the sound of Yvonne calling for me. She stood by the patio door, staring at me intently. "What were you looking at just now?" I turned my phone face down. "Work." She didn't move. "You're lying. Rosalind's been supporting your lifestyle ever since you married her. So, what job are you even talking about? Mr. Shaw, are you going to divorce Rosalind because of me? You can't divorce her!" she said hotly. I looked at her. "And whyever not?" She turned her back to me, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Because…" That girl. She was killing me with the suspense. Even worse, she just turned around and walked away without saying a word. She got up early the next day. I sat on the couch going through some documents, while she watched me like a hawk. When I went to get some water, she would follow me to the kitchen like a lost duckling. When I walked back to the couch, she would follow me back there. Finally, I had enough. So, I closed my notebook and asked the question that's been burning the tip of my tongue, "Yvonne, what's wrong?" She didn't tell me anything. She just repeated what she'd said the day before with an additional, "You can't divorce her." I stared at her, somewhat bewildered. "Wasn't the whole reason you came here to tell me she was cheating was to wreck our marriage?" She pressed her lips together. "Yes, but…" "Then, why are you trying to stop me?" She lowered her eyes and fell silent. I got up, went to the study, and shut the door, leaving her outside. A piece of paper was pushed through the gap beneath the door five minutes later. It had been folded in half, but I could tell that it'd been torn out from a notebook. Yvonne's handwriting was so heavy that I noticed that she could've easily torn through the paper in two places.