Clause nine: the shares pass to my daughter only if she is married on her thirtieth birthday, and only if the marriage is approved in writing by the surviving co-trustee.Her father is dead. She has eleven weeks. And the co-trustee will approve exactly one name.His.Julian Vale took over her family's company when her father's health failed. Eleven years ago he produced the finding that destroyed her brother, and eight weeks later her brother was dead in a hotel in Denver. Marlowe Adair has hated him with precision ever since.She says yes.Not because she has no choice, though she doesn't. Because for eleven years she has been a forensic accountant with no access, no standing and no way past the lobby of a building with her own name on it. And a man she despises has just offered to move her into his house, put her on his board, and hand her his passwords.Three years. She is going to take him apart from the inside.He knows.He marries her anyway.What Marlowe doesn't expect is arguing at the kitchen table until two in the morning. Or a ring bought a size too large, because asking would have meant touching her hand. Or a husband who will refuse to answer a question but will not lie to her. Not once. Not ever.And she is not prepared at all for what turns up in the ledger, because the money leads somewhere she never thought to look, and the file she has spent eleven years building is about to be pointed at the wrong person.Somebody in this family has been lying since 2014.Everybody in this family has been protecting her.Some doors are cheaper to open than to walk away from.Tropes: marriage of convenience - enemies to lovers - forced proximity - morally grey hero - dual POV - slow burn, then notAn ending that is earned rather than tidy. Hopeful, not neat.
