Chapter 2 - The Pre-Nuptial WallThe ironclad pre-nuptial agreement sat between them on the glass conference table of Callaway Capital’s top-floor suite. Margot’s legal team had drafted thirty-four pages of aggressive clauses designed to ensure Flynn Delaney would leave the marriage with exactly zero dollars, zero equity, and zero rights to any asset bearing the Callaway name.
Flynn sat across from Margot, flipping through the pages with surprising speed. He didn't have a lawyer with him. He sat alone in his plain flannel shirt while three top-tier corporate attorneys glared at him from Margot’s side of the table.
“Clause 14 states that you will reside in the guest house of the Oak Ridge estate,” Margot’s lead attorney announced coldly. “You will receive a monthly stipend of five thousand dollars for living expenses, provided you make no public statements regarding Ms. Callaway’s private life.”
Flynn didn't look up from the document. “Make it zero.”
Margot frowned. “What?”
Flynn grabbed a pen, crossed out the five-thousand-dollar stipend clause, and initialed the margin. “I don't want your money, Margot. I pay for my own food, my daughter’s clothes, and my own truck.”
“Mr. Delaney,” the attorney sneered, “this is a standard compensation agreement for—”
“I don't care what it is,” Flynn interrupted smoothly. His voice carried an unexpected weight that made the high-priced lawyer instantly shut his mouth. “I signed up for this arrangement to fulfill an obligation to Leonard. I am not for sale.”
Margot studied him intensely. Every man she had ever met in business was driven by leverage and profit. Yet here was a man turning down sixty thousand dollars a year without a second thought.
“Why are you really doing this, Flynn?” Margot asked, leaning forward over the polished glass. “My grandfather is eighty-one. What hold does he have over a contractor?”
Flynn signed the final page with a bold, steady stroke, slid the document across the table, and looked directly into her eyes.
“Your grandfather saved my life once,” Flynn said flatly. “When Leonard Callaway asks for a favor, I deliver. Even if it means enduring a year with a woman who looks at me like I’m dirt on her designer shoes.”
He stood up, adjusted his coat, and looked at her lawyers. “We’re done here. The civil judge is waiting downstairs.”
An hour later, in a quiet, sterile magistrate’s office, Margot Callaway and Flynn Delaney were officially pronounced husband and wife. There were no flowers, no music, and no romantic vows. Just the sharp stamp of a government seal on a marriage certificate.
As they stepped out onto the courthouse steps into the cool afternoon air, a black SUV with tinted windows idled near the curb. Margot didn't notice it, but Flynn’s eyes swept over the vehicle instantly. His posture subtly shifted—his shoulders squared, his gaze turning razor-sharp.
“Get in your car, Margot,” Flynn said low and fast.
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“Excuse me?” Margot bristled at his tone. “I have a 3:00 PM meeting with Mercer executives—”
Before she could finish, the rear door of the black SUV swung open, and two men in heavy coats stepped out, moving directly toward her.
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