Chapter 10

Beckett

I stood at the floor-length windows of my Cambridge penthouse, watching the city lights flicker across the skyline. The deep red wine swirled mysteriously in my glass as I drank in frustration.

What a mess. I'd married a woman who was already engaged to my own nephew—a fact she'd conveniently failed to mention.

Not that I really blamed her for the omission. I'd always preferred simple situations, straightforward people, because my methods of handling problems were equally straightforward. Direct. Decisive.

But this? Rosalind was my nephew's fiancée, Uncle Everett's beloved future granddaughter-in-law, woven into the very fabric of my family in ways I couldn't simply cut through.

"I still can't wrap my head around it," Atticus Hathaway, my best friend and Boston's top surgeon, said, sprawled across my leather sofa. He had not stopped laughing since I'd told him about my impromptu marriage. "The great Beckett Montgomery, brought down by marriage! And to Calloway's girl, no less!"

I glanced at him sharply. "Cut it out, Atticus."

"But it's too perfect!" he insisted. "You, the guy who swore never to get caught in any woman's trap, married to your own nephew's fiancée. Either this was a total coincidence, or she's one hell of an actress."

I narrowed my eyes, remembering her confused expression when I'd confronted her. There hadn't been a trace of deception in those eyes. "I'm divorcing her tomorrow."

Atticus sobered slightly. "You sure about that? Your father was over the moon when he heard you'd finally tied the knot. And the family's been pressuring you for years. You finally do it, and now you're gonna undo it in a week?"

"It was a mistake," I replied, downing the wine. I didn't need this added complication.

Atticus chuckled. "A mistake? Damn. I never thought I'd hear the CEO of KGH admit to screwing up, especially when it comes to a woman." His amusement faded, and he leaned forward slightly. "But seriously, Beckett. Let's be real here. There aren't many women who could get you to take a step like this. Are you absolutely sure she's not worth dealing with a little drama? You know exactly what kind of women your family's gonna parade in front of you next if this 'mistake' doesn't work out."

For a second, I almost didn't want to divorce her anymore. There was something about Rosalind—she wasn't like those other women from elite families, all practiced smiles and calculated moves, their every gesture a play for status or advantage. Rosalind was... real, and fiercely so. Her emotions were raw, right there on the surface.

But then reality crashed back in. For God's sake, this was Calloway's fiancée. My nephew's intended. The thought was like a bucket of ice water. I hate being played for a fool, and this whole situation reeked of complications I hadn't signed up for.

"I hate this kind of mess," I said coldly. "This ends tomorrow."

Atticus's phone rang, interrupting our conversation. He answered immediately, his demeanor shifting to professional focus. "What! A viable bone marrow donor's been confirmed?"

He hung up and stood. "Duty calls, old friend. Emergency at the hospital." He paused at the door. "Seriously, Beckett. Think twice about the divorce. She might be worth the headache."

I nodded dismissively, not really listening. Atticus had been my friend since college, but he'd always been a hopeless romantic, despite his scientific profession.

Rosalind

My eyes opened groggily to blinding light. Where was I? The sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. A hospital? My head pounded, and when I tried to move, I discovered my limbs were shackled to what felt like an operating table.

I looked around in panic. This was a surgical ward. White walls, bright lights, and medical equipment surrounded me. I pulled against the restraints, the metal handcuffs biting into my wrists.

"Let me go!" I shouted, my voice hoarse. "Help! Someone help me!"

The door swung open. My blood turned cold as Calloway entered, dressed in surgical scrubs and a mask pulled down to reveal his smirking face.

"There she is," his voice dripped with sadistic pleasure as he looked down at me. "How's it feel, Rosalind? All that attitude you showed at the party, all that beautiful defiance. I hope you enjoyed your little moment in the spotlight, because now it's my turn."

I struggled in vain against the restraints. "Calloway! You psycho! Let me go! Grandpa Everett will never forgive you for this!"

He chuckled, a dry, cruel sound. "Grandpa? By the time he 'finds out,' we'll be husband and wife. Tragic story, really. You, so desperate to marry me, offering your bone marrow as proof of your devotion. Me, moved by your sacrifice and Hannah's condition, finally agreeing. A real love story for the ages, don't you think?"

Horror washed over me as I understood his plan. "You're completely insane," I whispered. "You can't do this. People will figure it out—"

"Who's gonna figure it out?" he interrupted, his gaze sharper than a surgical knife. "Your little meltdown with Hannah in the garden was perfect timing. Everyone saw how unhinged you were. Your sudden turn toward generosity will look like guilt-driven guilt."

I shook the handcuffs, screaming in desperation. "My husband will know! He'll—"

Calloway laughed, a low, dismissive sound. "Your 'husband'? That pathetic nobody you dug up from God knows where, just to piss me off? He'll get crushed like a bug, Rosalind. A loser like him doesn't stand a chance against the Montgomery name."

"Don't you dare talk about him like that!" I spat.

He leaned in, his smile a cruel, predatory slash. "Oh, and by the way," he added, "don't think for a second I'm a guy who breaks his promises. Since you've so generously 'donated' your precious bone marrow for dear Hannah, I will, of course, do you the incredible honor of marrying you. And make no mistake, Rosalind, once that's done, your real nightmare begins."