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He turned toward me.
Something desperate filled his eyes.
“I need to speak to you somewhere private.”
“This is not the time.”
“It has to be now.”
He led me into a narrow corridor near the stairwell.
The lights there were dim, and the sounds of the maternity ward became distant.
Ben leaned against the wall.
“I made Rosie a promise before they took her into surgery.”
“What promise?”
“She said that if she did not wake up, I had to tell you everything.”
My stomach tightened.
“Tell me what?”
He reached inside his jacket.
“It’s time you understood why I really married her.”
Every ugly suspicion I had buried came rushing back.
Money.
Pity.
Pressure.
A substitute for the sister he could not have.
“Do not do this,” I whispered.
Ben looked confused.
“Do not ruin three years of watching Rosie love you.”
“Cathy—”
“If you tell me this marriage was a lie while she is fighting for her life, I swear I will—”
“It wasn’t a lie.”
He pulled out several folded pages and placed them in my hands.
“You need to sit down.”
The first thing I noticed was the letterhead.
It belonged to my father’s law firm.
Then I saw the title.
Marriage and Care Agreement.
My eyes moved down the page.
The document offered Ben a six-figure payment if he married Rosie and assumed responsibility for her daily care, legal matters, housing, and future medical needs.
There was a payment schedule.
Conditions.
Confidentiality clauses.
My parents’ signatures appeared at the bottom.
So did Ben’s.
A scream tore from my throat.
“You sold yourself to marry my sister?”
Ben flinched.
“No.”
“Your signature is right there!”
“Please listen.”
“She is fighting for her life while you stand here holding a contract that paid you to become her husband.”
“I never took the money.”
“You agreed to it!”
People at the far end of the corridor turned toward us.
I no longer cared.
“Was she a job to you?” I demanded. “Was that what the wedding was? A business arrangement?”
Ben sank against the wall.
Tears ran down his face.
“I never cashed a single check.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Every payment they sent went into a separate account in Rosie’s name.”
He pulled another document from his pocket.
“Every dollar. The original amount, the interest, everything.”
I stared at the account statement.
The balance was larger than the amount promised in the agreement.
“I invested some of it conservatively,” he continued. “It belongs entirely to her. Not me.”
“Then why sign?”
My voice cracked.
“Why put your name on something this disgusting?”
Ben looked toward the floor.
“Because your parents were planning to send her away.”
The words made no sense.
“Send her where?”
“A residential facility called Green Meadows.”
I had never heard the name.
He continued quietly.