6 Chapter 6 Special Delivery for an Unknowing Husband
“Put it on the desk and I’ll sign,” he said without looking up.
“I met her at the Oceanion Plaza Hotel. She was lost, confused. I helped her find her way back to your family,”
Then I was face–to–face with Arthur Sterling.
Philip’s frown deepened. “What company are you with? I don’t recognize the uniform.”
I stood my ground, though he towered over me. “Threats won’t change the legal facts.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” His voice was dangerously soft.
Arthur stood, towering over me. “Listen carefully, Ms. Dubois. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not married. Never have been. Whatever documents claim
you
to have are obviously forgeries.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, instructions are clear. Recipient signature only.”
I stayed where I was, the door closing behind me.
“My granddaughter–in–law, you won’t leave me behind again!”
“I’m not actually here with a delivery, Mr. Sterling.”
That got his attention. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as they assessed me from
head to toe.
We stared at each other, neither willing to back down. The tension between us crackled like electricity.
I allowed myself to be led out, knowing I’d pushed as far as I could today. As the elevator doors closed, I caught one last glimpse of Arthur Sterling, phone pressed to his ear, his face a mask of worry and irritation.
“Don’t play innocent. Caleb Sterling–my nephew. This is clearly some pathetic attempt at revenge because he chose your sister over you.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “How do you know about her condition?”
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The look on his face would have been comical under different circumstances–pure shock quickly masked by cold calculation.
“There you are! I’ve been waiting for hours!”
“We’re not finished-”
My heart rate spiked, but I was prepared. I pulled out my old work permit–eight years. old but still legitimate. Philip examined it closely.
I smoothed down the courier uniform I’d borrowed from an old friend who owed me a
favor. The disguise was perfect–couriers were invisible in corporate settings, faces forgotten the moment they left. Plus, I actually had worked as a courier during my college years, so I knew the routine.
“I wish it were.” I stepped closer to his desk. “I discovered our marriage certificate when applying for my company’s IPO. It’s dated five years ago, but I’ve never met you before in my life.”
“Would I have gotten past your watchdog otherwise?”
Now I needed to confront him directly.
“Then you have exactly thirty seconds to explain yourself before security removes
you.”
“Package for the executive floor,” I said confidently, showing the guard my delivery slip.
Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, her pale blue lighting up with recognition and relief.
eyes
“They’re not forgeries. They’re registered with the Oceanion Civil Records Office.”
He barely glanced at it before waving me through to a special service elevator. So far,
so good.
“My angle is that I want out of a marriage I never agreed to!”
I forced a smile. “Last–minute rush order, sir. Needs his personal signature.”
I nodded, following him to a set of double doors. He opened them and announced, “The courier, sir.”
Philip hesitated, then picked up his phone. “Mr. Sterling, there’s a courier here
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insisting on your personal signature.” He paused, listening. “Yes, sir.”
I stared at the imposing Sterling Group headquarters, a gleaming tower of glass and steel reaching toward the clouds. The confidence I’d felt after slapping Fiona was fading fast, replaced by a flutter of nerves in my stomach.
I shrugged. “Company hasn’t updated the style. If you’d like to call my supervisor to verify, I can give you the number.”
He hung up and turned to me. “Get out of my office. Now.”
The lobby was sleek and minimalist, dominated by the Sterling Group logo–a silver triangle with a lightning bolt through it. Security was tight, with guards checking IDs at turnstiles, but delivery personnel had their own checkpoint.
“Delivery for Mr. Sterling,” I announced, approaching the desk.
“Swift Courier Services,” I replied smoothly. “We’re a boutique delivery company. Specialize in confidential documents.”
I took a deep breath. “My name is Elara Dubois. According to legal documents, I’m your
wife.”
“Impossible,” he snapped.
He hung up and gave me a cool look. “You have five minutes.”
He sat behind an enormous desk, his attention fixed on documents spread before him. Even seated, his presence filled the room. He was more imposing in person than in the photos I’d seen–broad–shouldered, with a sharp jawline and eyes that seemed to cut through pretense.
He raised an eyebrow. “Let me see your credentials.”
I looked up to find an elderly woman sitting on the floor beside my apartment door, her silver hair immaculately styled despite her disheveled clothes.
“Yet here we are.” I crossed my arms. “I need a divorce, Mr. Sterling. My company can’t move forward with an IPO while I’m mysteriously married to one of the most influential businessmen in the country.”
I took the bus home, too distracted to notice the scenery passing by. My apartment building came into view a modest complex in a decent neighborhood, nothing fancy
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but clean and secure. As I approached my door, fumbling for my keys, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.
“This conversation is over, he stated, grabbing his jacket. He pressed a button on his desk. “Philip, escort Ms. Dubois out of the building. And make sure security knows her
Tace”
A flicker of something–amusement?-crossed his face before disappearing. “You’re Caleb’s ex, aren’t you?”
“When? How long has she been gone?” He listened, his grip on the phone whitening his knuckles. “Lock down the estate. I’m on my way.”
“This is from eight years ago.”
My blood boiled. “This has nothing to do with Caleb.”
The journey down was silent, Philip’s grip on my arm just tight enough to be
uncomfortable. In the lobby, he handed me off to security.
“I’m Philip Mercer, Mr. Sterling’s executive assistant. I can sign for it.”
Philip appeared instantly, taking my arm firmly. “This way, miss.”
That caught me off guard. “What?”
Something flashed across his face–concern, confusion, suspicion.
“This woman is not authorized to enter the building again,” he instructed before turning on his heel and walking away.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, shouldering my delivery bag and walking through the revolving doors.
Victor’s information had been shocking but made perfect sense. According to his sources, Arthur Sterling had fabricated a marriage years ago to escape family pressure. Somehow, my name had ended up on those papers. Not a clerical error–a deliberate choice that had tied me legally to one of the most powerful men in Oceanion.
“My grandmother is missing” he cut in sharply. “Whatever con you’re running will have
to wait.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair, studying me with those penetrating eyes. “And you
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thought dressing as a delivery person was the appropriate way to discuss this?”
He looked up with narrowed eyes. “I don’t have any deliveries scheduled for today.”
He walked around the desk, his movements fluid and predatory. “Who put you up to this? What’s your angle?”
The mention of his grandmother struck a chord–the sweet elderly woman I’d helped at Fiona’s engagement party.
Outside, I pulled off the courier cap and let out a frustrated sigh. That hadn’t gone as planned. Arthur Sterling clearly believed I was part of some scheme involving his nephew Caleb. The fact that his grandmother had gone missing just complicated
matters.
Mrs. Sterling.
“There is no marriage.” His voice was ice. “And if you continue with these absurd claims, you’ll find yourself facing a lawsuit that will make your little IPO problems
seem trivial.”
Whatever the caller said drained the color from his face.
When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, I stepped into another world. The reception area was bathed in natural light, with panoramic views of the city below. A stern–faced man sat behind a sleek desk, typing rapidly on his computer.
“Mrs. Sterling? The one with Alzheimer’s?”
His phone rang, breaking the moment. With a glare, he answered it. “Sterling.”
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