Chapter 1
Just twenty-four hours after finalizing my divorce, someone else took hold of my wrist and dragged me straight into the marriage registry.
He showed me my ID, which I didn't even realize I had lost.
The clerk asked if I was willing, and he answered for me, "Yes."
My ex-husband burst in, his eyes red with rage. "Dad! Are you out of your mind? This is my ex-wife!"
My new husband, thirty-year-old Bernie Jackson, replied calmly, "Now she's your stepmother."
The entire reason for this unusual marriage was our five-year-old son.
Martin Walkley was about to elope with his old flame, and his dad insisted, "No way am I letting my grandson grow up without a mom."
So just like that, I went from ex-wife to stepmom, and from mom to, well, "grandma."
*****
The day after my divorce, I was practically kidnapped and hauled off to the marriage office.
His grip on my wrist hurt, and the man dragging me forward had a tall, imposing figure.
"Let go of me!" I shouted.
"You..." My voice came out hoarse. "Why did you bring me here?"
Bernie didn't say a word. He just kept pulling me toward the registration desk.
His grip was so strong I was nearly dragged off my feet.
The clerk glanced up at us and pointed, "Marriage registration is over here."
She barely looked at us before returning to her paperwork. "IDs and family register books."
Bernie released my wrist and pulled out two brand new family register books from the inside pocket of his suit.
He handed over both our IDs.
"How did you get my ID?" I snapped, my voice turning sharp.
He didn't answer. He just slid the documents over, his movements so smooth it was like he'd rehearsed this countless times.
"Bernie!" I reached for my ID, but he clamped down on my wrist. His palm was scorching, making me shiver from the heat.
The clerk finally sensed something was wrong and looked up at us. "Is the lady here willingly?"
"Yes," Bernie cut me off, fixing his gaze on me. "She's here of her own free will."
"I'm not!" I practically screamed, my voice echoing through the hall. "He stole my ID!
"I just got divorced yesterday from his adopted son!"
The clerk's polite smile froze, then melted into pure shock.
Several couples in the hall turned to stare at us.
Just then, a furious shout echoed from the doorway.
"Dad! What the hell are you doing?"
Martin stormed in, his hair a mess and his eyes bloodshot.
Just yesterday, he was celebrating his newfound freedom, but today he looked like a lion ready to pounce.
He charged straight up to the counter and grabbed Bernie by the collar.
"Are you freaking crazy? This is my ex-wife! She was your daughter-in-law just yesterday!"
Bernie let him grab his collar, but his voice stayed eerily calm. "Now she's your stepmother."
"You..." Martin raised his fist, ready to swing.
"Go on, hit me," Bernie said, steady as ever.
Bernie looked up at his adopted son, Martin, thirty staring down at twenty-five, his eyes impossible to read. "Once you're done, we're still getting married today."
Martin's fist froze in midair.
The clerk had already stood up, her hand gripping the phone, ready to call for help.
"Do you need me to call the police?" she asked, her voice tense.
"No, that's not necessary," I cut in suddenly.
Both men whipped their heads around to stare at me.
I took a deep breath and looked straight at Bernie. "Give me a reason.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the cops right now."
Bernie finally let go of my wrist.
It was already ringed with red. Bernie turned his gaze away, his voice suddenly soft and almost pleading. "Dawn."
My heart clenched.
Dawn Walkley was my five-year-old son.
When we divorced yesterday, the judge gave custody to Martin, since the Jacksons were rich and influential. The judge said, "The father can provide a more stable environment for the child."
I asked, my voice shaking, "What's wrong with Dawn?"
"He cried until three in the morning last night," Bernie said, his words heavy as stones.
"He was hugging that dinosaur toy you bought him, asking if his mom didn't want him anymore.
"He kept asking grandpa why his mom and dad had to split up."
I couldn't get a word out, my throat tight with emotion.
"Martin booked a flight to Velmoor this morning," Bernie continued, not even glancing at Martin.
"He's going with his old flame.
"It's a week-long trip. He's planning to dump Dawn on me."
"It's for work!" Martin shot back, his voice tight. "Selena's got an exhibition in Velmoor, and I'm going to discuss a collaboration."
"Dawn has a fever," Bernie cut him off, his tone cold as ice. "102.6°F.
"Your assistant called me this morning about Dawn's fever.
"And you," he finally turned to Martin, "were too busy picking out a gift for Selena to even answer your own son's call."