The Mortician's Contract Marriage

The screech of tires from the bright blue Porsche tore through the tranquil silence of the Hayes family's gated community. Geneva slammed the car to a halt in front of the ridiculously grand entrance of their mansion.

He had spent the entire drive alternating between pathetic apologies and slurred threats. She ignored all of it.

She got out, walked around to the passenger side, and hauled Preston out of the car. He was a dead weight, mumbling incoherently. With a grunt of effort, she dragged him up the stone steps and dumped him unceremoniously on the welcome mat like a sack of garbage.

She pressed the doorbell, her finger holding it down until a frantic light appeared in the foyer. She stared directly into the security camera, her expression a cold, unblinking challenge.

The door was opened by Mrs. Gable, the family's longtime housekeeper. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of the heir of the house crumpled on the doorstep and the stone-faced woman standing over him.

"Miss Geneva? Master Preston, he's..."

Geneva brushed past her without a word, her boots echoing on the marble floor as she strode into the center of the cavernous two-story foyer. The noise had roused them. Catherine and Robert Hayes appeared at the top of the grand staircase, wrapped in silk dressing gowns.

Catherine saw her son first. A horrified gasp escaped her lips. "Preston! Oh my god!" She rushed down the stairs, her face a mask of maternal panic. "Geneva! What did you do to my son?"

Geneva stood her ground under the glittering chandelier, her shadow long and imposing behind her. "I did nothing but deliver him," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "Your precious son was making a public spectacle of himself. I was merely cleaning up the mess."

Robert Hayes descended the stairs more slowly, his face grim. "Insolence! Is this how you speak to the family that took you in?"

A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped Geneva's lips. "Family? Mr. Hayes, I think we have very different definitions of that word."

Catherine, now cradling Preston's lolling head, shifted tactics to emotional blackmail. Her voice rose in a tearful wail. "After all we've done for you! This is how you repay us? Preston made a mistake, a mistake any young man can make! Can't you find it in your heart to forgive him?"

"Save the performance, Catherine," Geneva cut her off, her voice sharp as a razor. "I am not your daughter. I was a business asset. A tool you intended to use to secure your future."

She reached into the pocket of her leather pants. Her fingers closed around the diamond engagement ring. She pulled it out and, with a flick of her wrist, tossed it onto the floor. It skittered across the polished marble, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

"This transaction," she declared, "is cancelled."

Robert's face turned a mottled shade of purple. He finally understood the gravity of the situation. "You'll regret this. Don't forget, without the Hayes family, you are nothing! Your trust fund..."

Geneva met his furious gaze without flinching. "You should call your lawyer right now, Mr. Hayes. I have. My grandfather's will states that the trust is activated upon my 'legal marriage.' It does not, however, specify to whom I must be married."

She saw the panic flash behind their eyes—something darker than fear of a scandal. They knew something she didn't. But that was a mystery for another night.

The words hit them like a physical blow. Catherine and Robert stared at her, their faces a picture of disbelief. The one piece of leverage they thought they had, the chain they had kept around her neck for years, had just dissolved into thin air.

A surge of pure, unadulterated triumph washed over Geneva. For the first time in her life, she held all the power in this house.

"And by the way," she added, twisting the knife, "I have a full recording of Preston's little chat at the bar this morning." She paused, letting the weight of it settle. "The file is already backed up in three places. If you want Hayes Industries stock to plummet the moment the market opens, I would be more than happy to send a copy to every major news outlet in the country."

For a moment, something flickered behind Robert's eyes. Fear. Then his face contorted with impotent rage, his hands shaking at his sides, speechless.

Catherine completely lost her composure, her elegant facade cracking to reveal the ugly greed beneath. Her mind was already calculating—the stock price, the boardroom fallout, the money. "You ungrateful little viper!" she shrieked.

Geneva was unmoved. She took one last look around the opulent foyer, this gilded cage she had called home for more than a decade. She felt no nostalgia. No regret. Nothing.

"Whatever I owed you," she said quietly, "has been paid in full."

She turned and walked toward the massive front doors.

As she reached the entrance, Robert Hayes's voice, hoarse with fury, called out after her. "You will regret this, Geneva."

She paused, her back still to them. "No," she said, without turning around. "You will."

Then she stepped out into the night, pulling the door shut behind her, finally closing a chapter of her life. The cool air on her face felt like freedom. But freedom wouldn't unlock her grandfather's money. She still needed a ring on her finger.

Her fingers flew across the screen. She opened a web browser.

In the search bar, she typed: "Fastest way to get married in Nevada."

She needed a husband. A partner for a new transaction. And she needed one now.