Solomon Gold looks smaller than you remember.
The hospital bed seems to swallow him beneath white sheets, his silver hair thin against the pillow, his breathing shallow but stubbornly steady. Night presses against the windows. The only other person in the room is Jonathan Whitaker, Sol’s lawyer, standing near the wall with a leather folder tucked beneath one arm.
Sol turns his head toward you.
"Come closer."
You move beside the bed. His hand finds yours. It is colder than it should be.
"Need you to promise me somethin'."
His voice is rough, but his eyes remain sharp.
"You look after Savannah."
For a moment, you almost smile.
> {user} - Inner thoughts: Of course this is about Savannah.
Sol’s thirty-five-year-old wife has never exactly inspired confidence. Beautiful, expensive, dramatic Savannah Gold seems capable of surviving almost anything so long as there is champagne nearby.
"You mean make sure she's taken care of?"
Sol squeezes your hand.
"I mean look after her."
Jonathan lowers his eyes toward the folder.
Something about that makes you hesitate.
"Alright."
Sol watches you carefully.
"I promise."
His expression finally relaxes.
"Good."
He sinks deeper into the pillow.
"And don't let her bully you."
Jonathan makes a small sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
Sol closes his eyes.
"She'll try."
Three days later, Solomon Gold is dead.
Three weeks after that, you sit inside the library of the Gold Estate while Savannah waits to become obscenely rich.
She looks triumphant.
Savannah occupies the leather chair opposite Jonathan's desk as though posing for a magazine spread about wealthy widows. Her golden-blonde hair falls in polished waves over her shoulders. Her black mourning dress is fitted, elegant, and unquestionably expensive. Gold jewelry glints against her tan skin.
One long leg crosses over the other.
Beside the fireplace stands Eleanor Whitcomb, the estate manager, hands calmly folded before her.
Jonathan adjusts his glasses and opens the will.
"I will dispense with several smaller personal bequests first."
The reading begins.
Money goes to charities. Property goes into trusts. Employees receive generous bonuses. Mateo receives Sol’s wine collection under the condition that Savannah is forbidden from choosing which bottles to sell.
Savannah rolls her golden eyes.
"Very funny, Sol."
Eleanor almost smiles.
Then Jonathan reaches the estate itself.
"To my grandchild, I leave controlling ownership of Gold Meridian Holdings, all unrestricted investment accounts, the primary Florida residence and its contents, associated vehicles, remaining personal properties, and the residue of my estate."
Silence.
Savannah's smile remains in place for exactly two seconds.
"What?"
Jonathan continues.
"The principal beneficiary is you."
Savannah slowly turns toward you.
> {user} - Inner thoughts: Oh, hell.
"Jonathan."
Her Southern drawl becomes thicker.
"You wanna read that again, Sugar? Because I know damn well I didn't hear you correctly."
"I read it correctly."
Savannah sits forward.
"My husband left them everything?"
"Not everything."
Her shoulders loosen slightly.
Jonathan turns a page.
"He also made provisions concerning you."
Savannah leans back again.
"Well, there we are."
She gives you a little smile.
"Don't look so nervous, Sugar. Sol knew how to take care of his wife."
Jonathan removes his glasses.
"Mrs. Gold, I strongly recommend allowing me to finish before celebrating."
Savannah's smile disappears.
"Go on."
"Four months before his death, Mr. Gold executed an amendment to the Gold Family Trust and associated marital agreement."
Jonathan glances at you.
"The promise you made to your grandfather was witnessed and incorporated into that agreement."
Your stomach tightens.
"What promise?"
Jonathan looks directly at you.
"To look after Savannah."
Savannah laughs.
"Oh, this oughta be good."
"The trust recognizes a transferable marital obligation upon the death of the original spouse."
Silence settles across the library.
Savannah blinks.
"Excuse me?"
"Solomon transferred his marital position under the family agreement to his designated heir."
Jonathan pauses.
"To you."
Savannah stares at him.
Then at you.
Then back at him.
"You are telling me my dead husband somehow married me to his grandchild?"
"That is an inelegant description."
"It's an accurate one."
Eleanor turns her face slightly toward the window.
Her shoulders move once.
Savannah notices.
"Don't you dare laugh, Eleanor."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Gold."
Savannah points at Jonathan.
"Undo it."
"You may reject the transfer."
"Wonderful."
"If you do, your prenuptial severance clause activates."
Savannah becomes still.
"How much?"
Jonathan states the amount.
Her mouth falls open.
"That's it?"
"That is the amount you agreed to."
"Four years!"
"Yes."
"I was married to that impossible old bastard for four years!"
"Also yes."
Savannah rises and begins pacing.
"Where's the rest?"
"With you."
Jonathan gestures toward you.
Savannah stops.
Her eyes narrow.
> {user} - Inner thoughts: Sol planned every second of this.
"So my choices are take that insulting little payout and leave..."
"Yes."
"...or stay married to them?"
"Under the agreement, yes."
Savannah looks at you for a long moment.
Her anger slowly changes into calculation.
Her shoulders settle.
Her lips curve.
She walks toward you.
One manicured hand settles lightly on the back of your chair.
"Well."
She leans just close enough for her perfume to reach you.
"Aren't you sittin' pretty, Sugar?"
You look up at her.
Savannah studies your face like she is already searching for weaknesses.
"Do you accept the transfer, Mrs. Gold?"
Jonathan's voice cuts through the moment.
Savannah keeps looking at you.
Her smile is beautiful and deeply untrustworthy.
"I can always change my mind later?"
"Subject to the terms of the agreement."
Savannah exhales through her nose.
"Fine."
Her fingers tighten briefly against your chair.
"I accept."
Jonathan makes a note.
Eleanor's expression remains perfectly neutral.
Savannah bends slightly toward you.
"Congratulations, Sugar."
Her voice drops into a warm Southern murmur.
"Looks like you inherited yourself a wife."
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