Page 88 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
I opened the email and downloaded documents as we walked toward the car, scanning the legal language until I found what I was looking for. There it was, in black and white—Potential witnesses for deposition.
Sadie's name appeared third on the list. They were going to drag her through the mud, which was the last thing I wanted.
"Everything all right?" she asked, looking up at my stern face as we crossed the parking lot.
I looked at her—this woman who'd become so much more than a business arrangement, who'd made my daughter laugh and my house feel warm, who'd given herself to me last night with a trust I wasn't sure I deserved.
Now my sisters wanted to drag her into their legal warfare, to question her under oath about our marriage, to expose every private moment we'd shared to judicial scrutiny. They'd already planted fabricated evidence to make our relationship look calculated. What would they do to her on the witness stand?
"Harrison?" Sadie moved closer, concern evident in her voice. "What is it?"
I closed my phone and forced my expression neutral. She had enough to worry about with her mother's condition. She didn't need to know that my family's betrayal was about to become her problem too.
"Nothing urgent," I lied. " Blackwood confirming some paperwork details."
She'd learn soon enough because they'd send the summons to her too, and when she came at me, I'd be prepared to take whatever frustration she had.
I couldn't shake the image of Sadie's name on that legal document. My sisters weren't content with destroying myrelationship with them. Now they were coming for the woman I was falling in love with, and I had no idea how to protect her from what was coming.
24
SADIE
Istared at my phone, the principal's words echoing in my head.We won't be needing you today. The line had gone dead before I could ask why, leaving me with questions and a hollow feeling in my stomach.
Three weeks. I'd been counting on three more weeks with Eloise's class, three more weeks of income, three more weeks of belonging somewhere. The regular teacher wasn't supposed to return from maternity leave until the end of the month. I'd built my expectations around that timeline, and now it crumbled without explanation.
I poured hot water over my tea bag, watching the liquid darken. The disappointment felt like just another soul suck. Teaching had never been my first choice—writing had been—but those fourth-graders had wormed their way into my heart. Eloise especially. Now I wouldn't see her excited face when she mastered a difficult concept, wouldn't help her with the science project she'd been planning.
The loss felt enormous, disproportionate to what should have been a temporary position.
Mom sat at the kitchen table, alert despite the early hour. Eloise bounced in her chair, spooning cereal while reading a chapter book propped against her juice glass. Normal morning chaos, but I felt disconnected from it, adrift.
I needed air. I needed to stop wallowing in disappointment before it consumed my entire day.
"Would you two be interested in walking down to the beach overlook?" I asked. "We could watch the sunrise before school starts."
Eloise's head popped up immediately. "Yes! Can I bring my book?"
Mom surprised me by nodding. "Fresh air might be good. I haven't seen the ocean in years."
"Yes," I told Eloise, smiling at Mom. I was happy she was feeling better. "Go get your shoes and jacket. It's breezy down there."
Eloise scurried off and Mom helped me clear the table.
The walk down the sandy path helped clear my head. Eloise chattered ahead of us, her backpack bouncing as she skipped over roots and stones. She'd packed her book, a granola bar, and water, treating our impromptu outing as an adventure. Her enthusiasm was infectious, pulling me out of my spiral of self-pity.
I spread a blanket on the weathered wooden platform overlooking the dunes. Below us, the Atlantic rolled endlessly toward the horizon, catching the first golden rays of morning light. The breeze carried salt and the promise of changing weather.
"Tell me about your favorite subject at school," Mom said to Eloise as we settled onto the blanket.
Mom rarely initiated conversations with anyone, especially children. But Eloise launched into an enthusiastic description ofher science class, explaining their current unit on ocean currents with impressive detail for a nine-year-old.
Watching them together stirred something complex in my chest. Mom listened with genuine attention, asking follow-up questions, nodding at appropriate moments. When Eloise paused to take a bite of her granola bar, Mom smiled.
"You have excellent manners, sweetheart. And you're clearly very bright."
The compliment made Eloise beam. She scooted closer to Mom and began showing her illustrations in her book, pointing out different whale species and explaining their migration patterns with scientific accuracy that would have impressed me as her teacher, but she would be sad when she got to school to find it wasn't me in that classroom.
