Chapter 10 - Before Xavier Bought Another Ring, Paige Made Him Sign a Prenup That Protected Her Right to Leave.
They did not get engaged first.
They got lawyers.
There.
Romantic enough.
Paige used Naomi for referrals but hired a separate family-law attorney, Simone Brooks.
Good.
Xavier hired his own.
No shared lawyer.
No Moretti counsel drafting both sides.
There.
Full financial disclosure.
Paige’s assets:
condo equity,
retirement,
savings,
investment account,
salary.
There.
Xavier’s:
Moretti Maritime shares,
real estate,
investments,
trust interests,
cash,
other legitimate holdings.
There.
The number difference was absurd.
Good.
They did not pretend otherwise.
Prenup discussions lasted four months.
There.
Paige’s condo remained hers.
Xavier’s premarital business holdings remained his.
There.
Joint property required explicit joint title.
Good.
No Moretti entity could own the marital home unless Paige separately consented after independent legal review.
Good.
If Paige reduced work for jointly chosen caregiving, the agreement recognized economic cost.
There.
No morality clause.
No surveillance provision.
No automatic private security authority.
Good.
Then separation.
The clause Paige cared about most.
If either party wanted to leave shared residence, access to personal identification, bank accounts, devices, medication and personal property could not be restricted.
There.
No changing locks without lawful process except immediate safety emergency.
Good.
Security systems could not be used to track the other person after separation.
There.
Xavier read that clause twice.
Then signed.
No protest.
Good.
Simone asked Paige privately:
“Are you signing because you want this marriage?”
“Yes.”
There.
“Are you afraid he will retaliate if you do not?”
“No.”
Good.
“Has he offered financial incentives tied to signing?”
“No.”
There.
“Any pressure from family?”
“No.”
Good.
Then Xavier’s lawyer asked him similarly.
Good.
Process.
Then children.
They spent months talking.
Not because contract required.
Because marriage deserved questions fake wedding never had.
There.
Paige said:
“I think I might want one.”
Xavier went quiet.
There.
“Might?”
“Yes.”
Good.
“You?”
He took time.
“Yes.”
There.
“Required?”
“No.”
Good.
“Would you leave if I changed my mind?”
Xavier did not answer fast.
That mattered.
“Maybe.”
There.
Paige’s face tightened.
He continued.
“Not as punishment.”
There.
“If fatherhood became something I knew I needed, pretending otherwise would make resentment.”
Good.
Hard truth.
Paige nodded.
“Same.”
There.
Love did not erase incompatibility.
Good.
They left it open.
Then Esther.
She was eighty now.
More fragile.
Sharp as ever.
Paige told her:
“We’re considering marriage.”
Esther said:
“You already did that once.”
There.
Paige stared.
“Not funny.”
“It is a little funny.”
Good.
Then Esther looked serious.
“Do you trust him?”
Paige thought.
“Yes.”
There.
“Do you trust yourself to leave if trust changes?”
Paige’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Good.
Esther smiled.
“Then I have no useful advice.”
There.
Perfect.
Then ring.
Paige insisted on going with Xavier.
There.
They visited a small independent jeweler after hours for privacy, not status.
Good.
Paige tried rings.
Hated diamonds that looked like weapons.
There.
Chose a simple oval sapphire with narrow platinum band.
Good.
Not family heirloom.
Not Callahan.
Not Moretti crest.
Good.
Xavier asked:
“Do you want me to buy it today?”
Paige smiled.
“Yes.”
There.
He did.
Then he took box.
“Do I get to choose when?”
“Yes.”
Good.
“Can I ask questions?”
“No.”
Good.
He laughed.
Then waited three months.
Paige became irritated.
Good.
One Tuesday, she said:
“Did you lose the ring?”
Xavier looked offended.
“No.”
There.
“Did Mara confiscate it?”
“She considered.”
Good.
Then no more.
The proposal did not happen at Northline’s annual inventory conference.
Too public.
It did not happen in Esther’s garden either.
That moment did not need an audience.
Good.
It happened in their kitchen on a Sunday morning.
Paige in old T-shirt.
Xavier making coffee.
There.
He said:
“Do you remember the first ring?”
Paige stared.
“Terrible opening.”
Good.
“I know.”
He put mug down.
Then:
“The first thing I did was order you to remove something you had never chosen.”
There.
Paige’s chest tightened.
“I do not want this one to answer that night.”
Good.
“I want it to answer today.”
There.
He took box.
Did not kneel yet.
“Do you still want me to ask?”
There.
“Yes.”
Good.
Then he knelt.
“Paige Hollis, will you marry me?”
There.
She laughed and cried.
“Yes.”
Good.
He opened ring.
Then:
“May I?”
Paige held hand out.
“Yes.”
There.
He slid it on.
Correct size.
Good.
Paige looked at it.
Then at Xavier.
“No business agreement.”
“No.”
There.
“No warehouses.”
“No.”
“Voting proxies?”
“Absolutely not.”
Good.
“No fake name.”
“Paige.”
He smiled.
“Only Paige.”
Good.
She kissed him.
Then went to work two hours later.
There.
No day-long engagement production.
Good.
At office, colleague Mina? Different story. Could use coworkers. One coworker saw ring.
“Wait.”
There.
Paige looked down.
Then sighed.
“Yes.”
“Is that Xavier Moretti?”
“The ring?”
Good.
Coworker laughed.
“You know what I mean.”
Paige said:
“Yes.”
There.
Then:
“Is there going to be another three-hundred-person wedding?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Good.
They chose forty-eight guests.
A courthouse civil ceremony followed by dinner at a small restaurant.
There.
No church.
No political crowd.
Good.
Rebecca invited?
Paige debated.
Then yes.
As Rebecca.
Not family representative.
Good.
Amelia came.
Naomi.
Mara.
Esther.
Daniel Sato did not attend because he and Xavier had never pretended governance work made them friends.
Good.
Desmond did not.
Celeste obviously not.
Good.
Then press found engagement.
MAFIA BOSS TO MARRY WOMAN WHO ONCE IMPERSONATED HIS BRIDE.
Paige nearly threw phone.
Xavier said:
“They make us sound efficient.”
There.
She laughed despite herself.
Then statement.
One sentence:
Our prior encounter involved a criminal fraud for which multiple parties, including Ms. Hollis, have addressed their legal responsibilities. Our current engagement is private and unrelated to that case.
Good.
No fairy tale.
Then wedding day.
Paige dressed herself.
No dress too tight.
No false name.
Good.
She wore cream suit.
Not gown.
Xavier wore dark suit.
There.
At courthouse, clerk asked:
“Name?”
Paige said:
“Paige Hollis.”
There.
Clear.
Xavier looked at her.
No tears? He had some.
Good.
Then license.
She read every line.
There.
Slowly.
Xavier waited.
Good.
“Problem?”
clerk asked.
“No.”
Paige smiled.
“I just like knowing what I sign.”
Good.
Then she signed.
Her own name.
There.
Xavier signed.
No trap.
No escrow.
No property transfer triggered.
Good.
Just marriage.
At dinner, Esther lifted glass with shaky hand.
“I would like to say one thing.”
Everyone turned.
Paige panicked.
There.
Esther said:
“If either of you ever uses marriage as an excuse to stop asking questions, I will return from death and become extremely inconvenient.”
Good.
Everyone laughed.
Xavier raised glass.
“Understood.”
Good.
Then Paige looked at sapphire ring.
Different weight.
Different meaning.
Not because rings changed.
Because consent had.
Good.
The first ring had been put on her as part of someone else’s plan.
This one sat on her hand because she had chosen every step before it.
That was all a ring should ever be allowed to mean.
Before the wedding, Xavier also dealt with one final family tradition.
The Morettis had a habit of placing family jewelry on brides.
There.
His aunt offered a diamond bracelet that had belonged to Xavier’s grandmother.
Paige said no.
Good.
Xavier did not ask her to reconsider.
His aunt looked offended.
“Every Moretti bride wears something from us.”
Paige smiled.
“I’m not joining by uniform.”
There.
Silence.
Then Xavier said:
“She answered.”
Good.
No fight.
No threat.
His aunt left annoyed.
She still came to dinner after the ceremony.
Good.
That mattered too.
Boundaries did not require every person to approve them.
They required the boundary to survive disapproval.
They also met with an estate lawyer before the ceremony.
Not because either expected death.
Because Xavier’s holdings were complicated enough that avoiding the subject would recreate the exact kind of hidden machinery Paige had learned to distrust.
Good.
If Xavier died, Paige would receive defined personal assets and housing protections.
She would not automatically inherit operational control of Moretti Maritime.
There.
Business shares would follow a governance trust with independent trustees.
Good.
No widow-as-boss fantasy.
No obligation to lead a company she had never worked for.
Paige’s own estate plan protected Esther while she lived, then directed most remaining assets according to Paige’s choices.
Xavier was included.
Not centered.
Good.
They also signed medical directives.
Who could speak if one were unconscious.
What information doctors could share.
There.
Written consent.
Again.
Xavier looked at the stack.
“Our romance has excellent stationery.”
Paige laughed.
“Paperwork is sexy when nobody can trap you with it.”
There.
He stared.
“That sentence should never leave this room.”
Good.
It did not.
Then they chose the courthouse date.
Not based on port schedules.
Not family calendars.
Not an escrow deadline.
A Thursday because Paige had Friday off.
There.
Xavier said:
“That may be the least dynastic reason anyone in my family has married.”
“Good.”
There.
That was exactly the point.
The final week before the ceremony, Paige had one bad dream.
She was back in the Beacon Hill bedroom wearing Amelia’s dress, unable to remember her own name.
There.
She woke shaking.
Xavier woke too.
He did not ask her to reassure him.
Good.
He asked:
“Do you want me close?”
Paige nodded.
There.
He held her.
No interpretation.
No promise that the past was gone.
Just presence.
Good.
May you like
In the morning, Paige still wanted the wedding.
That mattered more than having slept peacefully.
