“If you’re not married by thirty-one,” he said calmly over dinner, “you’re out of the will.”
There was no argument, no anger—just the same cold certainty he used in business.
Suddenly, my life had a deadline.
After weeks of uncomfortable dates with women who seemed more interested in my last name than me, I wandered into a small café downtown one evening. That’s where I met Claire.
She was a waitress who joked with customers, remembered orders without writing them down, and treated everyone with warmth. Something about her felt real—something I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
So I made her an offer.
I explained my parents’ ultimatum and proposed a deal: we would get married for one year. It would be a legal marriage only on paper—no strings attached. In return, I would pay her well. After a year, we’d quietly divorce.
Claire thought about it carefully, asked about contracts, and finally agreed.
The wedding happened quickly. My parents hosted it at their country club, barely
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