The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

The men, being bigger and larger than me, forced me out of my backyard and toward a black SUV on the street with tinted windows. It was midmorning. As most of the neighbors were working people, they had all gone to school and work, leaving the streets basically desolate.

Unless Logan looked out the window, there was no one left to help me.

Still, I struggled, kicking and squirming. The men cursed at me and tightened their grip on my upper arms. I didn’t have any means of escape.

They shoved me into the backseat of the SUV, then one of the men crawled in beside me. The other man hopped into the passenger side. A third man was already behind the wheel. When both doors closed, the SUV took off, careening down the street too fast to be legal.

Turning my head, I watched through the back window as my new home slowly disappeared.

I was taken downtown among the tall buildings. Here, there were people milling about, but with the tinted windows of the SUV, they couldn’t see me.

The SUV turned into an underground garage, where we spiraled down, down into the dark.

I wanted to ask where they were taking me, but I couldn’t with the tape on my mouth. I supposed they’d already told me, anyway. I knew they were taking me to see Mr. Hatfield Senior.

I just wished I knew where.

Once parked, the man beside me pushed me out the door where the other two were waiting, I didn’t see the point in struggling anymore. Where would I run to? We were underground. They’d catch me before ! even knew which direction to go to save myself.

As they shaved me forward toward an elevator, I kept my eyes open, scanning all around me. I didn’t have a means of escape just yet, but that didn’t mean I would never. If and when it an opportunity presented itself, I would take it.

I didn’t think Mr. Hatfield Senior would try to kill me, though the thought crossed my mind. He didn’t seem the type for that level of violence. That thought that hope–kept me from fully succumbing to fear.

Inside the elevator, one of the men pressed the button for the top floor. He had to show a keycard for the elevator to move. Then, slowly, it lifted.

At the top floor, the bell chimed and the elevator doors slid opened. Suddenly, I was being forced down a long hallway with desks on either side. People were working at those desks. A few of them glanced at me curiously, but then quickly away.

None looked at me long enough to convey a plea for help with my eyes.

A desk faced the hallway in front of a pair of massive and elaborate double doors. An assistant sat at that desk. If I were her, I’d be alarmed at the sight of a bound and gagged woman behind hauled to my desk. Instead, she just looked annoyed by the whole ordeal.

“He’s waiting.” she said to the men.

The men continued dragging me, forcing me around the desk and to the double doors. They pushed them open, revealing an extravagant office with floor to ceiling windows on three of the four sides of the room.

The view was spectacular, overlooking the city.

I

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time or the disposition to enjoy the scenery.

At the center back of the room was a wide desk. Behind it, sat Mr. Hatfield Senior. With his elbows on the desktop, he laced his fingers together and watched as his goons brought me forward and pushed me down into a chair.

The two of the men flanked my chair. The other moved back beside the door. With them out of my sight now, I focused on Senior, who looked at me with a mix of mild interest and annoyance. Like I was a puzzle he just couldn’t figure out.

With tape still over my mouth, I couldn’t say a word.

“When I was a boy,” Senior began, “I shared a single room apartment with my three brothers and parents. My parents were hard–working folk, but they hadn’t much opportunity for success. My father was a coal miner. My mother worked in the factories. Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

“While I valued their work ethic, I hated that they did not strive for more. They, as well as my brothers, seemed content with the hand we’d been dealt.

“As long as we can put food on the table, my mother used to say, ‘then we are blessed.” She died of a preventable disease if only she’d had the money to go to a doctor.”

While I listened, I tried to discern his motivation for telling me all this. Was he hoping to win me over with sympathy?

It wasn’t going to happen.

“I clawed my way to the top with my own two hands,” Senior said. “I worked two jobs to support myself ‘through college. I left that small town with its small minded people and never looked back. I begged my way through the door of company after company and crawled my way to the top, collecting every coin. Never wasting a dime.”

Frugality, for a billionaire, didn’t seem all that healthy. What could he possibly need with so much wealth? Why hoard it like a dragon? He couldn’t take it with him.

“Hearing this,” he continued, “You should understand now why I place so much sanctity on preserving my legacy.” He unlaced his fingers and held his hands in front of him. “These hands have clawed their way from the dirt. And I am not going back there.”

If I could speak, I would remind him that we all return to dirt sometime.

I could respect his hard work and diligence to rise himself out of the trenches of his parents‘ poverty. To build the empire that he had was no small feat. He deserved praise for his business acumen, certainly.

But that didn’t make him a good person,

A good person would have helped other people with their money. They would have treated those around them with respect. The children in their care, they would have raised with tenderness.

Instead, Logan had trauma, and his mother was in the hospital. His father was an alcoholic

The Christopher’s had to fight a legal hell battle for years, for the crime of loving Logan Hatfield.

And now, Senior was also trying to dictate who Logan could love..

This man might have been a business genius with unstoppable ambition, but he was also a grade–A asshole.

Any sympathy I might have developed for his meager beginnings entirely diminished looking at the man he became.

“I have done my best to set up a life worth living for my offspring.” Senior continued. “My own children have failed me horribly. But Logan… Yes. In Logan, I see much of the man I once was. If molded correctly, he could be just like me.”

I trembled in abject horror at the thought.

Fortunately, thanks to the Christopher’s, I doubted Logan would ever become the perfect copy his grandfather wanted.

Senior seemed absolutely determined however, transferring all of his ambition onto his grandson like it would somehow make him live forever.

“All I need from you, Hazel Whitaker, is for you to back off of my grandson. Then, I’m certain my legacy can still be saved.”