Page 22 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
Would she understand that marrying me meant accepting a level of visibility she'd probably never experienced?
"Seventy-seven days," I said, more to myself than to Blackwood.
"Yes. And every day you delay makes the board more convinced you're not serious about meeting the terms."
He closed the files and stacked them neatly on his desk.
"They're already discussing contingency plans for when you fail to comply."
"What kind of contingency plans?"
"Administrative restructuring. New leadership priorities. The kind of changes that would fundamentally alter Hawthorne's character and mission."
Blackwood's expression was grave.
"Your sisters have been very vocal about their vision for the school's future."
The threat was clear.
Caroline and Margot weren't waiting patiently for me to fail—they were actively preparing to reshape everything my father had built the moment they gained control.
Blackwood reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a thick manila envelope.
"I took the liberty of having the relevant contracts prepared. Marriage license application, prenuptial agreement template, documentation requirements for the board's review."
He slid the package across his desk.
"Everything you'll need, assuming you can convince someone to sign."
I picked up the envelope, feeling the weight of legal documents that would bind two lives together for the next five years.
Inside were forms that would transform a professional relationship into something far more complex and demanding.
"You'd better ask her soon," Blackwood said, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner of his office.
I followed his gaze to the clock face, watching the minute hand move with inexorable precision.
Seventy-seven days.
One thousand eight hundred and forty-eight hours.
Every minute I spent hesitating was another minute the board could use to consolidate their opposition.
And every day I delayed was another day Eloise moved closer to losing the only place that had ever felt like home to her—the place where she'd found her favorite teacher, her love of learning, her sense of belonging in the world.
I stood and tucked the envelope under my arm.
"Thank you, Theodore. I'll be in touch."
As I left his office and walked toward the elevator, I could feel time compressing around me with the weight of impossible choices and diminishing options.
Seventy-seven days to convince a woman I barely knew to marry me.
Seventy-seven days to prove to a hostile board that I deserved my father's legacy.
Seventy-seven days to save everything that mattered.
6
